Birth Poems - Poems For Birth
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Devovt Rhapsodies - Poem by John Abbot
To the Right Honourable, Philip Herbert, Earle of Pembroke and Montgomerie; And to the Lord Philip Herbert his Son.
As branches doe the Roote, Rivers obey
The Ocean, smaller lines their tribute pay,
And homage to the Centre, as the Sreames
Shot from the Sun confesse themselves his Beames;
So must all Authors, all prescriptions fall
Vnto the scripture as Originall.
Wrangling Philosophers may boast,
The Scriptures only speake the Holy Ghost.
Their Schooles decay, what's grounded on our Texts
Shall flourish, maugre Gentilisme, and Sects.
Our sacred Volumes are the sealed springs,
Where choicest Nymphs, as they of heavenly things
Sing ditties, bath themselves: from the white Mount
Of Liban issues this perennall Fount,
Which prooves an Ocean where the silly sheepe
May wade securely, yet the same's so deepe,
The Elephant may swim, and if he range
Too far be swallowed in the Gulfe: so strange
And perilous are these streames. Was not a Wave,
Nest orius venturde on Nestorius grave?
And did not Arrius perish in these seas,
Whilst he durst saile midst the profundities.
And wanted a sure Pilot: What Saint Paul
Hath preach'd and writ to instruct and save us all.
Turnes to the ruine of illiterate men,
As they pervert the meaning of his pen.
Who prie too neerely into Majesty,
Strucke purblinde by the raies of glory die.
'Tis true: Pharphar and Abana are streames
Of Syria; but if leprous Naaman dreames,
Theile clense his spots he erres, and must obey
The Prophet, and to Jordan take his way:
There glide the waters which he washing in,
Shall cure his leprousie, and clense his skin.
Poems must from this Chrystall Torrent spring,
Else theyle, as did those bitter waters bring
Diseases to the Drinker. Wanton bookes,
Hurt soules, as did the bodie Maras brookes,
Like dangerous Basiliskes a passage finde
To dart their poyson at the inveigled minde.
What? Are our Rils drunke up? Our fountains dry?
That wee must to such durty puddles fly,
First shall no Tapers grace the spangled heaven,
The rough Alps lye as the smooth Vallies even:
Ere who are conversant in sacred writ,
Shall faile of Themes to exercise their wit.
Are not the Fire, the Aire, the Earth, the Seas,
The Spheres, the Saints, th' Angels above all these,
A still supplying Subject? then to wade
In the Divine Idæas whence God made
Of nothing every thing, and with one word,
Could existence to all he made afford.
The Birth, the Infancy of this Vast Frame,
Increase, decrease, restoring of the same.
All Sciences of things above, below,
(More then Philosophy did ever know)
Are objects of Gods Booke, and easily yield
To all invention a most spacious field.
Wee grant prophaner Authours have given Rules
Of living well, kept open natures scholes:
But this booke Gentilisme exceedes as far
As the bright Sun at Noone some lesser Star.
Why doe wee study? Wherefore are wee joyn'd
So fiercely in dispute? To adorne the minde
With Truthes, and as the flint and steele conspire
In issuing forth the Element of fire;
By joynt collision, so from much bickerings
In disputation Aletheia springs.
Volve and revolve your Sages Volumes, you
Shall not be certaine one opinion's true
Amongst one hundred. What their Histories?
Patcht up with idle fables and with lies.
What's noxious there our Scripture reprehends,
What's crooked rectifies, what's faulty mends;
What's good makes better, and you neede not feare
Any report or false position there.
Millions of Lines about this Circle are,
And though they mutually may seeme to square,
And contrary as East to West, the South
To North; yet all meete in the Centre Truth.
What can be thought or writ by any quill,
Is in our Bible specified, and still
New matter drawes the curious Reader on,
And makes the Learned to reflect upon
The sense of deeper Mysteries, as he sees
Heere wondrous actions done: and out of these
Drawes morall applications, and can fly
To Allegorie, and Anagogie.
From the same words and deeds quadripartite,
Senses are fetcht, and every one is right.
Who but the Mother of us all Gods minde
Could in few words such stronge allusions finde?
And then what hee hath in Ænigma's put,
Make curious wits enucleat the Nut?
GOD is a copious Magazin; men are
The dispensatours of his precious ware,
And heeres such plenty that from every clause,
New mysteries the ingenious Reader drawes.
Goe jugling Mountebanks, cry up your toyes
Amongst the Rustiks, Idiots, Girles, and Boyes.
Yee winding Sophisters expose your trash,
Wrangling Philosophers together clash.
Frame Sophismes, Syllogismes, describe, devide,
Bring in essentials to define, decide
By Demonstrations Problemes. What's all this
To what we are made for, everlasting blisse?
Study foure yeeres the ten Predicaments,
Meane while forget the ten Commandements;
What profits Stoicisme? What Plato's wit
To your salvation? What the Stagyrit?
That Cynik Sage expresses, though heele hide
In's Tub, and currish manners far more pride
Then Plato in his Pompe. He who gave rules
To Courtiers, had a Cæsar in his Schooles
For a Disciple, found another way
How Princes Gnomically should write and say,
With some Atheistik Documents spoiles all,
Commending such who on their owne swords fall,
And with a violent Fate themselves deliver,
From paine or shame, for such shall live for ever
In paine, and shame. These wisemen are commended
Wher they are not: but their pains shal nere be ended
Where they are. Lets aske where are their followers now?
Who to defend their marcid Axioms vow?
Who now adore strict Zeno's Apathie?
Who for smooth Epicure will Champions be?
Where are Diogenes scholers that can scrub,
Sleepe, wake, eate, drinke, live, die; All in one Tub?
Contented with a scrip, a dish, a staffe,
More mad themselves at others madnesse laugh?
Surely such men have been; and made a shew
Of Learning, had Disciples, and did know
Something indeed, although not much; but what?
Is it Times fault? All almost are forgot.
No: time is blamelesse, for a Bastard sproute,
Though watred much seld fixes a deepe roote.
Our Scripture is a more Celestiall seed,
Not Philosophik Darnell, or that weed
That growes in one day, in the following fades;
But planted by Gods hand, shootes forth, the blades
Increases so, that in the branches rest
Your towring Eagles, and make them their Nest.
(Our glorious Doctours o're whose head a Dove
Hovers, and dictates Lines of Wit and love)
Wit in expounding Mysteries of our Faith,
Love, urging to performe what Scripture saith.)
From bough to bough these soaring Eagles spring,
Chanting the Trophees of their slaughtred King
Who (by his passion worthy made) reveal'd
This Sacramentall Volume seven times seal'd.
For our Lambe butcher'd, streight the Vale was rent,
Which 'twixt the Temple, and the HOLIEST went.
The Tables, Aarons Rod, and Manna there
Reserv'd, by immolated JESUS were
To be brought forth, the Law more plainely taught,
Grace freelier give, deeds more prodigious wrought.
These Tables, and what appertains to them
Were preach'd, were taught, receiv'd in every Realme.
These are the silly graines of Mustard-seed,
That tasted once such operations breed.
Converted Nations, builded Churches, and
Planted soule-saving faith in every Land.
How is it possible poore Fishermen
Should convert Nations, erect Temples, then
Leave their Disciples, who when they were dead,
This saving Doctrine every where should spread?
Be Trumpets and the Pipes of heavenly grace,
And in all Regions JESUS Banners place:
Be dayly Actors of stupendious things,
Maugre all Sects, and persecuting KINGS?
First do's the Synagogue recalcitrate
Against this Progresse with intestine hate.
But Truth prevailing, the Apostles shall
Interre her in a glorious Funerall,
And joyntly every Ceremonious Rite
Takes sweetrepose in darkenesse, but delight.
Then Pagan Kesars dreading th' overthrow
Of their false Gods, against the true GOD shew
Their indignation, and with fire and sword
Pursue, destroy Professours of his Word
Reveal'd, and writ: But as did Aarons Rod
Turn'd to a Serpent by the hand of God,
Devoure the Sorcerers Wands by Magick spells,
Also made Serpents, yet not tumid swells,
So this divinelie-vigorous Mustard-seed
Shall eate up, and hath swallowed every weed,
That through the world by Gentilisme was sowne,
(Their Doctrines, Phanes, and Idols overthrowne.)
No honours now to Moloch, Camos given,
None to Astarthe, and the Hoasts of Heaven.
Their maimed Dagon falls before the Arke,
Do's Hamon bleate now? Do's Anubis barke?
Paphus and Cyprus no more Venus follow,
No doubtfull answers uttred by Apollo.
These have, all Sects successively must perish,
Our heavenly seede eternally shall flourish.
To the Right Honorable, William, Lord Powis, and Sir Percie Herbert his Son.
Wee meane to treate of GOD; what shall wee take
For Essence, and a Definition make?
Can he who no waies will be circumscrib'de,
By any termes of Learning be describ'de?
Can he be specifide by words of Art?
When thought cannot imagine the least part
Of his perfections. Yet weele something write
From Gods owne Lucid Lanthorne borrowing light,
For since prophaner Authors Buzzards were,
By this directed, wee our course must steere.
So sacred are our Records, no prophane
Hand must attempt to touch 'em under paine
Of severe chastisement. So Sinais Mount,
Nor man nor beast approach when Moses on't
Receives the Law; and the same Prophet must
Pull off his shooes in reverence of that Dust,
Where God shall show himselfe. He answers well,
Who being commanded by his King to tell
What God was, and desiring still more dayes
The Question to resolve, yet still delayes:
Truely confessing that the Thesis grew
Harder, and harder, and the lesse he knew,
The more he studied. Who writ Tragedies,
For his presumption forfeited his eyes.
And Theopompus lost his health, because
One in his Stories, the other Moses Lawes
Durst bring upon the Stage, both are restor'd
To sight, and health; their fault by both deplor'd.
Yet who are humble with a prosperous gaile
In Cephas ship shall through the Ocean saile,
And in the depths behold Gods Attributes,
How this perfection, that negation sutes,
To expresse some thing of a Diety,
(More then created understandings high)
And character as followes. GOD'S a Being,
That ever was, and shall be; a minde seeing,
All in the Mirrour of himselfe, where all
Future things, and possible (though these shall
Nev'r have existence) boast Eternitie,
And in the Godhead all whole sharers be,
GOD every where is present, no where seen,
He filleth the whole world, and had there been
Myriads of worlds, he would them all have rounded,
Himselfe not compast, bounded all not bounded.
Fancy some vast imaginary space,
The Centre, and circumference of that place
Is GOD. Imagine thousand vaster, there
GOD must be'e involved the surrounding Sphere:
All intimate to all things, yet all without
All things; though nothing can be, if God be out.
GOD is an Entitie most simple, yet
Millions of discrepant perfections meete,
As Lines Concentrike in this SIMPLE ONE,
And without all these weele acknowledge none:
For GOD: where all are with a bended knee
Offer our Vowes to that sole Majestie.
Admire his immutability, the same
Still in himselfe, yet changing still the frame
O'th world with various Motions: Can love, hate,
Be pleas'd, displeas'd, yet still keepes the same state.
(Exteriors only altred.) Stand amaz'd
When mans and Angels thoughts to'th height are rais'd
By'th light of Glory, yet inferiour far
To penetrate what Mines of Treasures are
Hid in that supreme Nature, Power, and Skill
To make ten thousand worlds, when ere he will,
More beautifull then this, increase the store
Of Angels numberlesse, and make 'em more
Glorious beyond esteeme. Can any Law
Limit his Arme? When this world's but a straw
Compar'd to what he can: turne when he please
To their first Chaos, the Aire, the Land, the Seas.
Dissolve the Heavens, reduce to'th old Abysse,
Of nothing, whence they came, those Bands of his
Owne Court, the Angels, and when this is done,
Be full as happy in himselfe alone.
For GOD did not those glorious spirits create
With purpose to encrease his blessed State:
Who was so copious, as he was before,
Nor doe their Legions multiply his store.
Repute Earth, Angels, Heavens, but a meere story
To speake a Deities more extensive glory:
And when he made this ample fabrike, He
For our good would declare a Majestie
Ineffable; in all expresse a will
Of doing good, a power to doe't, a skill
To doe't in the best manner, as much Art
In the production of each severall part,
As of the whole, (an Artists skill being waigh'd,
Not after what, but how the worke is made.)
A Childe may be begot, brought forth, and cry,
But without more sollicitude must dye.
Gods Providence his Creatures must attend
Els were they made to little, or no end.
Soone would this world to the first nothing fall,
If wisdome should not nurse, and governe all.
The Machine a disordred Ataxie,
Generall confusions, and combustions be.
What's Provideence? A faire exteriour Robe
Encompassing, and covering the whole Globe,
And all things comprehended in't: Beside
It is the lining of the worlds inside;
Ordaines, rules, acts, for ends peculiar; yet
This Queene do's not her Majesty forget;
But makes the secondarie causes know
They are her Agents, and obedience owe
To what she lists. Could the intensive heate
O'th flaming Furnace make the children sweate,
This Providence a while suspending fire
From action maugre the fierce Tyrants ire?
Did not she make at Josuahs vowes the teeme
O'th posting Sun a while shoote every beame
From the same Zenith, and in lieu of night,
Mortalls stand gazing at a Noonedayes light?
This prescribes Rules, ordaineth Ends, gives Lawes
Constant to th' universe, makes every cause.
Helpe it's associate: Nothing do's in vaine,
But first disposing sweetly without paine
Brings forth what nature would: Yet most appeares
Where liberty of action domineeres.
And with so deepe a wisdome enterweaves
Humane affaires, that though she freedome leaves
To severall purposes and different ends,
Yet happily effects what she pretends,
Attends to all; yet so to every one,
As if save that, she notice tooke of none.
To dictate, write, reade, heare, all in one houre,
Made Cæsar wondred at, Origen much more.
This world of creatures Gods eye lookes upon,
Governes, provides for; yet for all as one.
Observes as well what's in the Cottage acted.
As what votes are i'th Senate House transacted.
Searches intentions, searcheth hearts and reines,
What's done for publique, what for private gaines.
Has admirable fetches. Did not Gods
Providence make Benadad and Jehu Rods
Of Achab, though that an Idolater
Jehu a Jew, yet a false worshipper:
These scourges were of Gods revenging ire,
And vengeance acted, cast, into the fire.
This lets bad men beare swaie some Moneths, or Yeares,
And then excited by the cryes and teares
Of the oppressed, with a potent hand
Frees a distress'd and captivated Land.
So Tribes returne to Palestine againe,
And Portugall shakes off the yoke of Spaine.
How this was done the following lines shall speake,
And how mans Arts to Providence are weake.
No end of Taxes, of Excises none,
How to get money still is thought upon;
Water excis'd, and Spanish Lordans are
So greedy, they would taxe even the free Aire.
True Patriots are supprest, and only they
Advanc'd for Officers, who have the way
To grinde the Land, and out the poore mans throat
Get for Corbona an extorted groat,
Harpies oth' the Commonwealth, who procure hate
To an easie King, and cosen King, and State.
All tattred th' other day, Bancrupts, poore Johns,
Now prance it on their foote-clothes, are great Dons:
These are disperst through the whole Kingdome, and
Their Arbitrary power for Law must stand.
They are seconded at Court, if any take
Exceptions, are so potent, they can make
Him a dangerous Malignant, have him sent
For up, plagu'd in purse or imprisonment.
Thus grones poore Portugall, knowes not to whom
She should addresse her selfe, no helpe from home.
St. Julians Fort is in the Spaniards hands,
All Castles kept by Military Bands.
No Lovers of their Countrey weapon beare,
But sent to Italy, or Flanders, there
A Gods name let 'em fight, the more are slaine,
The more firme is the Monarchy of Spaine.
Now steps in Providence, no more quoth she
Of bondage; I will set this Nation free,
And make D' Almeida with the Mello's plot,
And never cease till they have freedome got.
And take that crowne from the third Philips Son,
Which D' ALVAS Armes for Prudent Philip won.
Could humane wit or strength: But sole GODS hand,
And PROVIDENCE (that can events command)
So soone, so easily with no losse of blood
Redeeme a Kingdome from long servitude?
But wee must know the Kings, and Peoples sin
Translates the Natives, and brings strangers in.
So Roderigo'es fault brought Moores to Spaine,
Our Britaine by the Saxon, Norman, Dane,
Subdu'd; the French-mens sins for us have fought,
And what but our owne sins fetch't in the Scot?
So when the Conquerours crimes weigh downe the scale,
They make their Vassailes over them prevaile.
When wise, and just men fall, Fooles, Tyrants rise
On the heavenly disposition with squint eyes
Wee looke, and cry an ERROUR of the Prince,
When rightly 'tis a supreme Providence.
Lets higher goe. Abimelech combin'd
With Sichem, and with Mello, all are joyn'd
To ruine Gedeons house. The Olive Tree,
The Vine, the Fig-tree put off Majesty:
“Tell the Trees plainely; wee'le not lose our ease,
“And for your sakes so much our selves displease.
“Wee shoote, wee spring, wee flourish, bring forth fruite
“Which with the Spring, the Summer, Autumne suite
“Please God, and man: what are great Monarks shares?
“But as their Realmes, so multiply their cares.
Only a Whin, a Bramble will be great,
Takes complacence enthron'd in Royall Seate;
But what's the sequell? Sichemites shall rue
That with their Tyrant Gedeons Race they slewe,
And by such murders chose Abimelek Prince,
Gloried in him: Now steps in Providence.
Which Joathan fortold 'em. God shall send
From the darke shades of hell some subtile Fiend,
That shall the Subjects, and the King divide,
Make them hate his Tyranny, him their pride:
They upbraid him with his Brethrens murther, though
They were associates in the murther: (So
Eager on mischeife, wee first rashly doe,
At leasure see how foule the fact's, then rue)
He who was raised by them, rases their Walls,
Destroyes their Towne, and by a woman falls.
(Heavens not permitting such League should last long,
Which for Foundation murther had and wrong.)
Marke Kingdomes, Common-wealths, and private States.
And you'le observe not Fortune nor the Fates,
But GODS transcendent Providence beare sway,
And alwayes sin with shame, or sorrow pay.
As Providence and Power, so his science is
His Bounty, Mercy, Justice, an Abysse
Of infinite Perfections. Weele conceive,
Millions of worlds i'th Divine Essence, leave
Nothing which may adde beauty, give delight
To the understanding, hearing, and the sight,
Angels surmounting sands oth' Ocean shore,
Of populous Nations a far ampler store,
Then should of Atomes be, had this vast Frame
Nothing but distinct Atomes in the same.
Now, what a pleasant Vision wert? If you
Saw all these objects in one simple view.
Millions of Angels, Men, Beasts, Plants, rich Stones
All Minerals, heard all Symphonies at once.
Beheld all Colours, Fields, Woods, Trees, Flowres, Fountaines,
Oceans, Springs, Rivers, Vallies, Plaines, Rocks, Mountaines,
Numberlesse Cityes, Hamlets, Castles, Courts,
All recreations, all delightfull sports.
Is there delight in War? the Seige of Troy,
And sacking oft'? How barbarous Kings destroy
Rome, and Jerusalem: The Punik slights
Of Hannibal, Grecian, and Romane fights:
The battailes by our third stout Edward fought
Against the French, and Flower-de Luces got
To adorne our Scutcheons, the renowned story
O'th Field of Agincourt fift Harries glory,
And what with BLOUD not inke should be set downe
Our CIVILL fights, since that at Keinton Towne,
Which so much bloud, and many lives have cost,
That whosoever was gainer, England lost:
Had they been well imploy'd, those Legions might
Have subdu'd France, regain'd the Electorall Right.
The Romane Triumphs, and Olympian Games,
And what soe're Magnificent in Fames
Booke stands registred, is, shall be, hath been,
Are in Gods Essence as a Mirrour seen:
And all these knowne a thousand Myriads more
Of objects may be seen, and yet the store
Never exhausted: GOD alone must be
The Comprehender, of his Infinitie.
Eternally there was duration, though
Nor Yeares, nor Monthes, six thousand yeares agoe,
Nor Dayes, nor Houres, nor minutes did divide
Ages, and Times, and all these specifi'd
By the perpetuall motions of the SUN,
As he shall through his annuall mansions run,
And by the carrying his eternall Light
Make Winter, Summer, Autumne, spring, day, night.
So when the world shall fade, and all these cease,
The tired Earth injoy a constant peace.
No Plough rip up her Bowels: The Glebe-land
Still unmannured, and untilled stand.
No aurigations of the heavenly carres,
No' in certaine motions of the wandring Stars.
Shall not there be DURATION? Sure there shall,
But such an one as comprehendeth all
Ages, and Times, the present, future, past,
And all these vanish'd evermore shall last,
And is the same with God. This never had
Beginning, never shall have end. This made
When it pleas'd him the universe: Wee know
How long 'tis since he made it: If wee goe
FURTHER that FURTHER is Eternity,
And will not measur'd, but admired be.
For who conceives some thousand Centuries
Of ages past, and againe multiplies
The same millions, and millions more of time,
Yet cannot this grand Calculator climbe,
Although perpetually he multiply
Unto the Top of GODS eternity.
Who only can his owne DURATION tell,
Above created thoughts ineffable.
These glorious Attributes, and Idioms shew
A mighty GOD, come wee to things below.
As he converses with the sons of men,
Bestowes his gifts, beares with their manners, then
Greater amazement will arise to see
His Bounty, Mercy, Longanimity;
But weele defer to insist upon this Text,
And with Devotion prosecute the next.
To the Honorable, my most honored Friends, the Lady Francis Nevil: And Mistrisse Margaret Brooke her Daughter.
Wee sing the Notions of the Father, Son,
And Holy Ghost, issuing from both; yet ONE
With BOTH: One individed Essence: Three
Persons by relative Pluralitie:
Man is Gods Image, and do's represent
This Ternall One, and the unconfinde extent
Of the whole Macrocosme; yet never shall
Be happy till he gaine this ONE, this ALL.
Shall he from whose redundant Plenitude
Wee all receive, Being, Grace, Beatitude.
Who fills the Ocean with innumerous spawnes,
Replenishes the Desarts, and the Lawnes
With stocke of Cattell, dayly do's repaire
With yong ones the inhabitants of the Aire.
Can such a God be barren? No, a sire
Issuing a Son shall with that Son conspire
To breath the Holy Ghost, and all these three
Equall in glory and in Majesty.
Ethinks acknowledg'd, though with much adoe
One God, but knew not what belonged to
A TRIAD what is Divine GENERATION,
What is PROCESSION, what active SPIRATION.
The FATHER needs must get a SON, and then,
That FATHER and that SON give Origen
To the Holy Ghost; the first Two cannot be,
Vnlesse they make their Number Ternary:
For Love which gives all Creatures birth and growth,
Before all Creatures had his birth from Both:
(Father on Son the Son on Him reflecting,
And with a mutuall Complacence affecting)
The Synagogue of this had shaddows; but
Their Lanthorne was under a Bushell put:
And the Hebrew Rites, and Books Enigma's are,
They' explaine not Truths, but poynt at from a far;
The Law in measure, above measure Grace,
When that once past, this other comes in place.
That Lambe, that Lampe of the Cælestiall Towne,
Shall leave his royall Throne, and comming downe,
Enucleat Mysteries, preach a Godhead, three
In Notions, yet a pure Identitie.
Who comprehends himselfe, could onely tell,
GODS immanent Acts, that are ineffable.
O thou Eternall Son, and Word, who far,
(Ith' raies of Saints) before the morning Star
Wert got, and spoke; let's through all Ages break,
And search, when GOD did thee beget, and speake;
For both are One, GOD did no more afford,
To give thee birth, then uttering of a Word.
Lets search a hundreth thousand Ages moe,
Yet shall we not thy Birth, and utterance know.
If we thy Father question, heele reply,
My Son is both so old, and young as I.
When he was got, as no time can designe,
So when he was not got, no time define.
Yet of his Origen, you truly may,
Affirme he is begetting every day:
And through Eternity all Ages past,
Shall this continued Generation last.
A SON of's FATHER independant, Heat
As th'e ORIGEN, whence tis deriv'd so great.
True GENERATIONS yet devoid of Motions,
Reall relations, yet no more then Notions.
As the Vast Ocean that surrounds the Earth,
Though it give RIVERS springs and Brookes their Birth,
Euphrates, Volga, Quahu, Nile, our Thame,
Yet never wanteth but runs stil the same.
A thankfullie all these Returne againe
And disembogue themselves into the Maine.
The FATHER never wants, although the SON
Has all he hath: nor are these TWO undone,
Nor the least jot of all their Treasure lost
Though al's be stowde upon the holy Gost.
For though they mutuallie give all their store
Yet give they so, that they can stil give more.
Imagine some Eternall Spring, or Mine
Whence Purest Gold is digd, flowes richest wine,
And yo'ule conceive some glimsies that come nigh
To shadowe this stil Bounteous Trintie.
Not Trimegistus or the Stagyrit,
Not any Stoik, or Platonik wit,
Though Monas Monadem begat, can tell
How this Fecunditie, yet no wombes swell,
Arises, how one can give all his store
Yet never be exhausted, never poore.
Such science is a more peculiar grace,
Granted to none o'th Philosophike race,
And who will have this TRIAD for his booke
Must with FAITHS candle on the volume looke,
Though none can understand each page aright
Who has not for his Flame-bew Glories light.
Merchants, who travell to the rising SVN,
And view his setting when the day is done
In neither of the Worlds can fulnes finde,
For though they fill their purses, yet their minde
Is emptie still, and still they covet more,
And are amidst their heapes of Riches pore.
The Macedonian youth contented not
Himselfe with the whole World his sword had got.
The Reason: all things here confined are
Within their Modell, insufficient far
To satisfie mans APPETITE ordain'd,
Not to be satisfi'd till GOD be gaind.
The Spherik Figure no waye can suffice,
To equall what is made TRIANGLE wise.
Lay one upon another, you shall see
All waies some cornets will unfurnish'd be.
When the Worlds maker made mans Soule, the same
Triangular did the best Worke-man frame
To represent his matchles self and be
The Image of one GOD in Persons three;
Ordaining him to love, to honour, serve
His GOD, who for such service do's reserve
A Crowne, and place in Heaven; where he shall see
The TRIADS order, and how all things be
Deriv'd from thence. Nor can there ought be found
In this low O be, that's Sphericall, and round,
May satisfie our Soules; nor can wee rest
In Creatures, who are ordred to be blest
By his fruition, who to Creatures gave
That existence, and essence which they have.
Sol'e GODS proportion'd to our Soules, and till
GOD be injoid, wee nere shall have our fill,
Unles wee feed on this Celestiall meate,
Wee still shall hunger, still desire to eate.
Creatures observe that order, keepe that state,
Which GOD appoints: Sole MAN'S retrogradate.
Behold the wandring Planets, and fix't stars
Are Constant in the motion of their Cars,
And as they approch, or goe from severall seates
Cause winters nipping frosts, and Summer heates.
Make buds and blossomes sprout foorth in the Spring,
And in the Autumne to perfection bring.
See how the Simple Elements Combine
And in the making of mixt Bodies ioyne.
The Fire, the Ayre, the Water, that surrounds
The Earth: how all observe their proper bounds,
And very bounteously themselves bestow,
On all things that have sense, or move, or grow.
Suppose (what will not be) some glorious light,
(The Sun or Moone) should fall from Heaven, or quite
Extinguished be: suppose Gods arme should take
This World, and of't the Pristine Chaos make;
Involving in the same calamity,
The old, the middle aged, and the Frie.
Here death gives rest to Beasts, to Fish, to Foule,
All paine expiring with the fleeting Soule:
And though here's some inversion of that end,
Which Nature in Creation did pretend:
Yet tis no more then if some Clowne should grub,
Or cut a plant up, but as yet a shrub;
Or a young Partridge caught ith' Fowlets net,
Or by the Hawke devour'd Pin-fether'd yet.
But different far is Mans accursed state,
If by transgression he prevaricate:
For if in prosecution he shall erre,
Sulphurean Flames that first prepared were
For the Infernall Fiends, must be his hire,
And with condemned Ghosts, eternall fire.
Better he had nere been borne, then be borne so,
As dying, he must live in endlesse woe:
For not as soules of Birds and Beasts, Mans minde,
Shall with the body dissolution finde;
But when chance, age, or sicknesse break the tye,
Twixt Body and the Soule, this last shall flye
(Supported by the wings of heavenly love)
To those magnifique Pallaces above,
Where Saints and Angels with much blithenesse sing,
The Trophees of the slaughtered Lambe, and bring
Their Anadems of Glory (as tis meet)
Offering them, and themselves at IESVS feet.
6Who with the treasure of his precious blood,
Purchast his Courtiers such Beatitude.
Or else the Soule poysde with transacted faults,
Shall streight descend to subterranean Vaults;
Where horrour with pale desperation dwell,
And damned Ghosts eternally shall yell.
'Twould be some ease it thousand myriads past,
Of yeares, Hels torments should have end at last,
But they'le endure so long as GOD shall be,
And one way equalize eternity.
O thou all-potent Trinity, whose hand,
First made, then polisht Fire, Aire, Water, Land:
Prescribdst to all their duty, and their end,
Which they without reluctancie attend,
And gaine; Illuminate our souls to know,
Wherefore thou mad'st us, whether we should goe;
To heaven our journey is, direct our wayes,
To that blest Land; there crowne us with thy rayes
Of glory; who made by, and after thee,
Without thy selfe shall nev'r contented be.
To the Honorable, William Savile, Baronet, my Godson. Edward Atsloe, Iohn Church, Esquires.
Wee sing what power bad Angels have, and how
All causes, and their consequents they knowe,
Are incorporeall, and with winged speed
Act what they will, but not their bounds exceed.
Wee sing unhappie mans corrupted state,
How more then Beasts he do's degenerate.
The World being finish't God amazed stood,
And with much complacence pronounc'd al's good:
If all be good, how come ill Angels then
(So noxious, yet so conversant with men?)
If they are ill, why are they lef't to roame
Abroad, why are they not confin'd to home
In Hell? why did they not when they lost grace,
Forfeite as well their Energye as place?
In Heaven? they can doe wonders, have a power
As great as Sions courtier's, some have more.
What from the rising of the Radiant sune,
Till in the Occident his race be run
Is acted, they see clearely, can without
Passing through Medium's scu'd the World about
It'h twinckling of an eye; at distance can
Mountaines oreturne, destroye, or tempt a man.
Locall Dimensions limit not their Sphere
Of action, where they operate they are there.
And though these Devils can the Sun as soone
Shut in a lanthorne, as deduce the Moone
Downe from it's Mansion; yet they are petty Kings
In the airie Region, and ore earthly things
Can dominere, although not reach so farre
As is the Mansion of the lowest Starre,
All Theorie, and Practike arts they knowe,
Natures abstruser secrets, no plants growe,
But they their Virtues ken, and can apply
Actives on Passives to bring miserie
And witchcrafts upon man, and as if wee
Framde of Ambition, envie, enmitie,
Were not sufficient Devills to our selves,
Wee must have ayde from these Infernall Elves
In our malitious plots, and for the hire
Damne our owne soules to their eternall fire,
And as wee share in their Iniquitie,
So in their punishment associates be.
And such must of necessity be ill,
Who once deprav'd can never change their will,
Never retract an Error, nor repent
What once (apprehended good) they durst attempt.
Speake more Celestiall Muses, what's the cause
Of so much pervicacie against the Lawes
Of humane sence, how fell the Angels downe
Why did they forfeit that Perennall Crowne
Due to integrity and (Virgins) knowe
The knowledge of such Cronicles you owe
To Sacred Historyes? how Balthasar,
And Nemroths Babylon surprized are,
And the Assyrian Monarchie cast downe
The Medes and Persians share the Imperiall Crowne,
How Tomyris the warlicke Scythian Queene
Amidst her thickest Troopes in Armour seene,
Acts dire Revenge, and having first made drunke
The Persian Brigades, drenches the cold trunck
Of slaughtered Cyrus in a tub of gore,
Bidding him quaffe his fill, who evermore
Had thirsted blood; how like the flashing fire,
Of angry Heaven, when Heaven and Earth conspire
To raise a tempest, Alexander flies,
And shewes the World his glorious Victories;
How by death conquered, he who conquer'd all,
Must in the midst of all his Trophies fall;
Many great Homers (Alexanders Vow)
Inrich you with such Histories, and how,
Cæsar amidst and by persidious friends,
I'th Capitall his life, not glory ends.
The sad disasters of these Monarchies,
With the addition of ten thousand lyes,
Of the Assyrian, Greek, Odrysian Lords,
Innumerous Stories, numberlesse Records
Speak amply: many Birds first reassume,
Onely their proper Feathers, then unplume,
The Roman Eagle, till great Mahomet,
As he did Constantines Bizantium get,
Wrung off one neck, and in that Empire plac'd
The beauty of our Towring Bird defac'd.
But of the reall grounds, why these States fall,
Why th' other rise, no mention's made at all;
Nor once remembred what condition they
Be of, who are chiefe Actors in this Play
Of blood, and death, where a Muse buskind sings
With teares the Fates of Common-wealths, and Kings.
The Gentile Sages by experience see,
But know not whence proceeds our Miserie:
They never know with what industrious Arts,
The Devils in our Drames act chiefest parts.
Why Man doth with the Spiders Cobwebs spin,
And one net wrought, unsatisfied begin
A fresher web, why with the Ante take paines,
With such sollicitude for sordid gaines.
Why thrust the Badger with the Foxes slight
Out his owne Hole, why with the Lyons might
Invade the weaker; why made Lord of all
The Universe, does he degenerate fall
So low beneath himselfe, and far inferiour
In sence to many Beasts, to all superiour
In brutish qualities, exceeds the Hog
In drunkennesse, more fawning then the Dog,
When profit shall accrue, in rage outgoes
The Hircanian Tygres, when assayl'd by foes,
Shee saves her young ones, and with teeth and nayles
Against a world of combatants prevailes;
Prouder then the Horse, when in his bravery,
He shall attract every beholders eye,
To marke him onely, as with stately grace,
Through the streets richly hanged he shall pace.
As here the Gentiles all are silent, wee
Should sit amaz'd, and with them silent be;
Wholy transformed, knowing our God all good,
Dispute, how with such bounty it hath stood,
To suffer his chiefe creature, Man to fall,
In such disorders, and permit in all
So generall a confusion, when behold,
Onely our writs the Origen unfold
Of all these mischeifes, taught by them weele speake
The causes: and through many ages breake
Boldly our passage ope, beginning long
Before the Universe began a Song.
To the right Honorable, John Paulet, Marquesse of Winchester, the Lady Honoria, The best Example of her Sex, His Marchiones; and the Honorable, Walter Mountague.
What ruind Angels? a transcendent pride?
Or envy? Because Man was Deifide.
Proud Lucifer turn'd Traytor animates
His fellow Angels to be associates
In the Rebellion: Michael with the bands,
Of Loyall Subjects for GODS title stands:
The Traytors lose the day; Grace, glories Crowne,
(They might have gai'nd) to th' depths of Hell cast downe.
The Devill nere was glutton; never soild,
With amorous embraces: never foild
with drink: no purser by the high way side,
Never for Murder at the Sessions tride.
(Nor could he faile so, such concupiscence
Following corporeall faculties and sense.)
(Yet has he perpetrated all these crimes,
By proxie, above a hundred thousand times)
How fell the Devill then? how lost his place,
And share 'oth Deity, Cœlestiall grace.
How did the searcher of all intrailes finde,
Iniquity in so sublime a minde?
What horrid act hath his eversion wrought?
Ruine on him? on Us destruction brought,
(For he having limpt himselfe, made Adam halt,
Whence issued our hereditary fault.)
Was Lucifer a Peacock? when he spide
His specious plumes, with a selfe-pleasing pride,
Tooke he fond complacence in gifts bestowde,
And with those gifts rebeld against his God,
Who gave 'em? did he glorying in his state,
Aspire to be with God coequall Mate?
With soaring wings why would he northward flye,
And independant be as the most high?
Or did not envy raigne? that God should sleight,
The Angelike Essence, and himselfe unite
To our weak substance, by a wondrous tye,
Including in one Man the Deity,
And humane Nature: this makes Traytors rise
In armes 'gainst their Creator; envies eyes
Are so malignant, that anothers good,
Like daggers strikes to th' heart, and fetches blood.
‘What quoth th' aspiring Angell, shall this slime
‘Oth earth, this worme in plenitude of tyme,
‘Grac'd with the union Hypostaticall,
‘Be Deified? have Empire over all.
‘Must Angels so accomplished with grace,
‘In Entity so perfect give him place?
‘Be slaves, and as obsequious Vassals stand,
‘To know, then execute what heele command?
‘If God cannot his bounties better share,
‘Weele learne him Order, teach him who we are:
‘If needs he will his gifts, and selfe diffuse
‘In Donatives, let him election use:
‘Wherefore you (Legions) ayde me, and weele make,
‘This partiall God recall his purpose, take
‘Our Nature, where you all shall sharers be,
‘And fellowes with me in the Deity.
As in a Leguer, where distracted mindes,
Revolt against their Generall, Treason findes,
New complices to act a dririe plot;
So now seditious Lucifer ha's got
Whole multitudes to second what he saith,
As Impious Angels violate their faith,
Turne to a Creature their chiefe leader, and
Amazed at his eminencies stand:
For Lucifer had such similitude
With God, that he, next him was the first good.
No Cedar in Mount Libanus so tall,
No Beech as hee: he far surmounted all;
Great his indowments, specious were his raies,
And he stild justly, First of all Gods wayes,
Allured with such parts, the inferiour stars
Forsake their stations, denounce open Wars
Against their Maker. Now the signal's given,
Of a great battaile to be fought in Heaven.
For Michael and his friends oppose themselves,
In Squadrons rangde against the haughty Elves:
The loyalty of Subjects now is tryde,
As they take part on Michaels and Gods side:
Who stands impartiall a spectator by,
To see these Combatants for maistery try.
No party brought to th' field, or swords or bils,
But serious altercations of their Wils:
Neither did they with a Stentorean voice,
On any part plead rights; but without noice
Ioyn'd the Batalia's: No loud clamors there,
Let the left Wing advance, bring up the Rere:
But what they would have either friend or foe,
Should understand, their Wils did make 'em know:
Yet Drums and Trumpets were the harmonious Spheres,
Still ecchoing terror in the Rebels eares:
When they reflect how those, though senslesse stand,
In order, when these spurne at Gods command.
That fight was famous in Pharsalia field,
Where the Patrisians, and their Pompey yeild
To Cæsars conquering Legions, and one day,
Makes Rome, and the whole world the Victors pray:
So was that Naumachie by the Actian shore,
Where Anthony pursues his flying Whore;
And great Octavian all the Empire gets,
Where the Sun first appeares, and where he sets.
The whole Worlds Soveraignty, being set at stake,
Did these encounters so conspicuous make.
But in this Battaile fought on Sions plaine,
Where the false Angels lose, the loyall gaine
The day: what ever is above the skies,
Even Gods command must be the Victors prize.
The Armies ordered, and in mutuall view,
The grand Commander of the Traytruos crue
Himselfe advances, and at every straine,
Presents Goliah, or fierce Tamerlaine.
Blasphemes and curses Gods selected band,
But as (if such comparisons may stand)
A thick neck'd Bull made Captaine of the Herd,
And for his strength, of all the Forrest fear'd;
Meeting some stately Lyon at a spring,
Disdaines to pay due homage to his King:
But ventilating oft his hornes ith' ayre,
He and his Flock themselves to fight prepare;
When the stout Lyon backed by his friends,
The conflict presently begins and ends:
As furiously upon the Bull he goes:
And, maugre his great strength, casts in the close.
Then on the prostrate neck, setting his foot,
With a disdainfull paw puls out his throat:
The rest, as they behold their Leader dye,
With the disaster all appalled flye.
In the same manner Michael putting on
His trusty Armour: Vindication
Of Gods supremacy, a two edg'd Sword,
Strongly compos'd of Gods revealed Word:
Iustice his brest-plate, and of Faith the shield:
A belt of Verity: his helmet steel'd
With safety. Armed thus against his foe,
He marches, and as David with one blow
Defeats the Else: then trampling on his head,
This ovant speech in following manner said:
‘Who like to God? who from the abysse of nought,
‘First made thee, then to this perfection brought?
‘Ingratefull wretch to thy Creators grace,
‘Unworthy such endowments, and cheife place.
‘Was thy eye evill because God was good?
‘Or didst thou surfeit with much plenitude?
‘What is, is his; and must he come so low
‘Beneath himselfe, that when he will bestow
‘His favours, he must aske his creatures what
‘He shall bestow? whether on this or that
‘Person, or nature? he can best dispence,
‘Who knowes what's given is but benevolence:
‘Great were thy eminencies: did we repine
‘At dignities conferd on thee, and thine?
‘We knew, and so shouldst thou, that he who gave
‘Such gifts, knew well what every one should have,
‘And in what measure, neither thou, nor I,
‘Can limit or inlarge his liberality.
‘False Impe, who wouldst have Empire over all,
‘To the lowest pit thou shalt dejected fall:
‘Can nothing please thee but thy Makers Crowne?
‘To Hell with thy associates tumble downe.
As when the heavens, the ayre, the winds conspire
With horrid thunder, and with flashing fire,
To terrifie the world, and make us thinke,
Our sins had fild Gods cup even to the brinke,
And the Universe must end: Midst all these tones
Of angry Heaven, innumerable stones,
Of haile fall downe, and with their fragour make,
The Machin of the frighted World to shake.
Such was the Angels precipice from Heaven,
When glorious Michael had his sentence given.
For Lucifer, who made the Angels faile,
As he fell headng, dragd downe with his tayle,
The stars third part (when men of high estate
Decline, the ruine ends not in their Fate.)
But as some potent Lording, who hath wrought
Treason against his Soveraigne Prince, and sought
To murder or depose him, for which ends,
Conspiring with his Vassals, and his Friends;
He traiterously takes armes, but in the field,
Is vanquishd by his King, compeld to yeild.
Brought to a tryall, all receive their doome,
But differently; some from their native home,
Banishd; some forfeit life, some goods and land,
So did the case with the damn'd Angels stand,
Some are confinde 'ith spatious ayre to dwell,
Others on the earth, and seas; yet all in Hell.
For they still beare about the load of sin:
Fire in the apprehension, tortur'd minds within.
And we might see, had we spirituall eyes,
How innumerous Devils, Atome-like and Flies
In a hot summers day, hop up and downe,
Ith' ayre or'e every City, Village, Towne.
Soaring like Hawkes, with Vultures mawes and eyes,
And when 'tis sprung, source downe upon their prize.
Then let us know that as they towre so high,
They easily, viewing, with advantage flye,
And seaze upon their pray. (Whats poore mans state,
Continually exposed to their hate?)
But that grand Traytor, Lucifer, whats done
With him? doe not the conquerors sit upon
The manner of his chastisement? who lead
The dance in this Rebellion, was the head
Plotter and actor in the treason, shall
Be more severely punished then all
The minor Devils; and one clause they adde
Toth' rest of's torments, that makes him stark mad:
Namely, that he who would so high have flowne,
With wings of pride, even to Jehovahs throne,
In a deep dungeon, shut eternally,
Shall a confined slave and prisoner lye.
A hole his goale furthest from Heaven to show,
That as transgressions so must pennance goe.
The other Fiends have the vast Ayre and Seas,
And land to range in whensoere they please:
But their great Monarck must in fetters tyde,
In lowest Hell perpetully abide.
And this was the first prison made for sin,
A patterne to torment Delinquents in:
Yet no confinements, Fetters, Bolts, and Gives,
Can make the damned wretches mend their lives.
Sure the strange quallities of Alpheus streames,
Are idle Poets or Historians dreames.
How he though disimboguing in the Maine,
Yet midst the brine his sweetnesse can retaine;
Debt, and transgression are conducent gins,
To Prisons, Prisons Colledges of sins.
The noble Sciences profest, and chiefe
Arts taught, are of the Drunkard, Whore and Thiefe,
Who were in knavery Freshmen, comming here,
Shall proceed learned Graduats in one yeare.
Behold the Gallies, and a Prison view,
And they shall fully represent to you
What's done in Hell; blaspheming every where,
Continuall torments, yet they curse and sweare
Amidst those torments: Boat-swaines, Goalers are,
The Furies that torment 'em and their fare,
Bisket, Tobacco; trickling teares must serve
To make their meat go downe: else let 'em starve,
What then? too many care no more when halfe
Are starv'd then Butchers when they kill a Calfe.
A Prison's like the cruell Martichore,
Or Hell it selfe, still seeking to devour,
It's alwayes taking, the least favour must
Be dearely bought, nor can you goe on trust.
Sweat, labour for some Goalers, a good turne,
Is never thought of in the following morne,
Best curtesi's done to them are but their due,
And what's their Office must be sold to you:
French imposts, Spanish taxes are not hard,
If to th' exactions of a Goale compar'd.
Yet heavens forbid all Keepers should be such,
I know some gently bred, who will not grutch
To doe a favour gratis, know the same
Fortune that oretakes others, is not lame,
But may oretake themselves, and they may be,
Their fellow-prisoners in Captivity:
Know what a sin it is, to boyle the lambe,
Ith' milke and sight of the afflicted damme,
And therefore scorne to add fresh woes to woe,
(Onely ignoble, Beares and Wolves do so.)
They understand al gaines these Vultures take
From undone men cannot them wealthy make,
No more then did that silver Judas good,
Which he had purchas'd with his Maisters blood.
The poore are Christ himselfe, and what is got,
Over the Devils shoulders needs must rot
Under the belly of his Damme (as teares,
And Prisoners clamours penetrate Gods eares.)
These keep not Goales as Charon kept his Boat,
To crave for every passenger a groat,
Nor (gentle soules) wil they, or curse, or raile,
If any in their bounty sometimes faile.
May such (and prisoners votes are potent) be
Fellowes with Peter in Eternity.
(Turn-keys best patterne) who with little state,
But much humanity will ope Heavens gate
Toth' poorest soule, that clensed from his sin,
Or knocks, or rings, craving admission in.
No mischiefe on such Keepers ever fall,
But let 'em have his lot who kept Saint Paul:
No prisoners scaping from 'em run away,
Much courtesie with much injustice pay.
Free from the Bondmans heaven-ascending curse,
May they dye rich in credit, rich in purse.
As the Egyptian Midwifes, let their race,
And they thrive here, and have in Heaven a place.
Yet thrice blest Rome, who in the seven Kings times,
And Tribunes rule, wert so devoyd of crimes,
That one pore Goale sufficed to detaine,
All Malefactors, but as Scipio's gaine,
Asia, and Africa, Emilius Greece,
And all returne rich Iasons with the fleece
Of gold, then as thy sins and Towne increase
New Goales are made, and Justices of Peace.
How art thou spotted, with what tincture di'de,
Of sins proud London? which so loud have cri'd
To Heaven for vengeance, that in every street,
New prisons must be made; the Gatehouse, Fleet,
Newgate, and Ludgate, and a hundreth more,
Not large enough for murderer, thiefe, and whore;
But so increases the Malignant trade,
That Courts and Pallaces are prisons made.
O inauspitious Stars to live and die
In torments worse then those of Gregory.
There miseries end with our exhaled breaths,
Continued prisons are continued deaths:
A prison's like Vestas deflowred Nun,
Ram'd in the grave before his thread be spun.
Yet heavens are gentle, and permit this curse,
To fall on some, to keep 'em from a worse.
To the right Honorable, Henry Parker, Lord Morlie, and Mount-Eagle, William Habington Esquire, and Mistris Lucie Habington.
What undiscovered pathes the Serpent treades,
With what flye Engines, and darke wayes he leades
Mankinde to errour? with what subtiltie,
Invites he us to our owne miserie.
The Fowler and the Fisher-man may gaine,
Arts of deceipt from his more subtile braine.
Eve poysons Adam, and by his sad fall,
Conveyes pernicious venome to us all.
The folish Woman, and her female seed,
Tax'd worthily for this accursed deed.
Why does the Spouse in a Cygnean song,
Descant so dolefully of the great wrong
Her Brethren do her, and of battailes fought,
And stratagems wherein her life is sought;
Who are these barbarous Brethren so unkind?
Legions of evill Angels in Gods mind,
Our generall Mother, who, Idea'de there,
Were form'd, then fell, and after suffered were
To range abroad; these tempt, solicite Man,
And doe him all the injuries they can,
(Thinking erroneously tis some reliefe,
To have companions in their endlesse griefe,)
As Meagre envy made 'em first to fall,
So the same fury domineeres in all
Their actions: knowing man must weare that Crowne,
And fill those thrones from which they tumbled downe:
Knowing how no coinquinated thing,
Shall see the face of Sions glorious King.
At every step, and place they set their gins,
To intrap the passengers in snares of sins.
All creatures of the world are traps and nets,
Which to catch fooles the cunning Devill sets:
And Satan having long converst with man,
Is in his Volume deeply read, and can
Comply with all his appetites; invert
The order of his intellect; divert
Affections rightly plac't; perswade him choose
Evill cloth'd in the shape of God, refuse
Virtue look'd on, not in her proper guize,
But form'd by Fancy, or our carnall eyes:
For the grand workman of this earthly mole,
When in our body he infusde the soule,
He made the Intellect, Will, memory,
A true resemblance of the Trinity.
As they have power to issue severall,
Most distinct operations; yet they all
Are one, and the same soule; and though we name
Them diversly, yet they are all the same.
These rule as some great Queene of many lands,
All the corporeal faculties commands;
And though she seeme to rule by Deputy,
Yet in all acts 'tis shee, and onely shee,
VVho records onely understands, wils onely, hoords
Onely in her vast Magazin records,
The specie of things present, past, to come,
And when shee will remember, to that roome,
Makes her recourse. These species Satan can
Stir up, when he intends to tempt a man,
Objects of riches, pleasure, and the height
Of honour; and propose with such delight,
That the Intellect obscured by the Will,
Shews in false glasses good, that which is ill:
Then sense, will, understanding headlong run,
Into transgression, and are all undone.
The Serpent such a colour set on pride,
With a rich glosse of being Deifide,
And knowing much, that Eve lik'd it so well,
As having tasted Heaven, shee'd venture Hell.
To know what's ill. The Fiends not long a wooing,
But tels her if sheele know, shee must be doing.
‘Behold that goodly Apple, take and eate,
‘The choyse of Paradise, delicious meat;
‘This will bestow an immortality,
‘And make you sharers in the Deity.
‘God knowes this wel, ther'fore least you should be,
‘Partners with him, he has forbid this Tree.
The liquorish Woman eyes, and eyes againe
The Apple; sees it lovely and would faine
Pluck it, but feares: at last demurreth so;
‘If not for use, why did this apple grow?
‘What Aromatick smell? how smooth the skin,
‘And gay? Can any poyson lurke within?
‘No sure: God in forbidding has some end,
‘That's envious, Ile beleeve my speckled friend;
‘Who gives the world to roame in, and excludes
‘But the least corner, all his gifts deludes,
‘And pens you in a prison; All the trees
‘Of Eden are but toyes; forbidding these
‘Choise fruits, what gave God when he gave command,
‘Ore fishes, foules of th' ayre, beasts of the land?
‘And then forsooth to say, dare not once touch
‘This Apple; bounty is not valued much,
‘Hedg'd in with lymits: I had rather have,
‘What he exempts, then all the rest he gave.
‘Had it not been forbid, it might have past,
‘Not car'd for, now I must needs, and will tast.
‘Be it what it will, Ile by experience try,
‘If it bring death, or immortality.
With this, maugre Jehovahs frownes and threats,
The bold Virago the Apple plucks and eates.
Shee scarce had gorgd it when the subtile Snake,
Tickling with laughter in such manner spake.
‘Are not your eyes now open? sure you know,
‘What's Good and Bad: but be not envious, go
‘Present your husband with an Apple, and
‘Both good and ill alike shall understand.
Lets to the Devill give what is his due,
Though he equivocate, yet he speakes true.
But why did he assume the Serpents shape?
Are not there other beasts, the Fox, the Ape,
The Dog, the Elephant so wise as is
The Serpent? but he takes this vermins hisse,
To cheat our Grandame: Satan will declare,
How neare allyed he and the Serpent are.
All other creatures onely will defend
Themselves, not unprovoked man offend:
This venome still in ambush lyes like Dan,
To bite our heeles, and not toucht poysons man.
What harme did we the Devill? that he shou'd,
Envy our happinesse, prevent our good?
Then in the turnes and windings that he makes,
How does he represent the circling snakes?
Observe this plot, and by one wile guesse all,
As he made Eve, so he makes others fall.
Knowing the woman of the two more frayle,
He will the weaker vessell first assayle.
Knowing the man of sounder judgment, he
Sends his Embassadors to Adam, shee
Must play the Orator; commend the meate,
Turne Crocodile, peule, weep, unlesse he eate.
(By such seducers Solomon al-wise,
Forsooke his God, Sampson lost strength and eyes.)
If we dare trust the Jewes, their stories tell,
How Nathan saw before King David fell
His ardent love to Bershabe, and thought
To stay the Prince from his adulterous fault.
He trudges to the Court, but in the way,
The subtile Fiend as a dead carkasse lay:
The Prophet stops his course to interre the dead,
Meane while the King defiles Uriahs bed.
Shall we conceive Adam was so unwise,
To think an apple could make cleare his eyes?
Indude with grace, and a strong Intellect,
He could not but on Gods' command reflect,
Wherefore we must beleeve his chiefest end,
In the transgression was not to offend
His cogging wife. (A precedent of those,
Who to please others their owne soules dare lose.)
So Solomon his Queenes so much affects,
That for 'em to false Gods he Phanes erects:
But did the mischiefe end in Adams sin?
No sure! our misery must here begin.
A businesse of such consequence, that all,
Involv'd in him with him must joyntly fall.
Had he been single, there had staid the doome,
But he was Father of the World to come:
And in his sentence we were censur'd, who
Nere understood what appertained to
Transgression. Ist' not strange one single crime,
Should last, and blast all progresses of time?
Let Epictetus, let the Stagirit,
With Divine Plato, who have amply writ
Of vertues, and of vices, speak the cause,
Why man so easily transgresses Lawes.
When all are dumbe, our sacred Volumes can
Tell wherefore all these mischiefes lite on man.
Adam had all our wils in his, and we
Eate joyntly with him the forbidden Tree.
His onely act, that one pestiferous bit,
Had many thousand Aconites in it.
It scarce is swallowed when infernall gates,
With violence flye open, Iron grates
Of Hell are burst; anxieties, cares, feares,,
Sorrow with all her dropping children, teares,
Suspition, jealousie, lawlesse desire,
Unbridled lust, pretensions to aspire.
Fond joyes, sad discontent at present state,
Aversion from good: anger, envy, hate,
Avarice still greedy, griping penury,
Dogging at the heeles of Prodigality,
Darknesse of minde, perversity of will,
And what in both can be suspected ill.
Beguiling error, pervicatious schisme,
Crab-creeping heresie, impious atheisme:
Idolatry alwaies inventing where
New Gods may be adorde for love or feare.
Egypt to Ibis, Rome will sacrifice
To th' fire, and Cloaca a Goddesse is.
These monsters with their pale commander death,
(Kept hither to close prisoners beneath,
Nor should they ever have beheld the Sun)
Hearing what man against his God had done,
Scorne longer to obey prescribed Lawes,
But they will forth and vindicate Gods cause.
By the effects judge Adam of thy fault,
These mischiefes are the purchase thou hast bought,
Corruption is the house; the land sad woes,
In which though with teares watred no good growes.
Making at houre of death thy latest will,
Thou didst bequeath this Legacy of ill,
And for Executors, the Devill trust,
Who though a Bankrupt, yet in this is just,
And takes such care that jointly with our breath,
We doe receive thy testament of death.
Hence issue, if we well revolve our Fate,
Those woes which follow mans accursed state:
Hence those afflictions which attend our wayes,
Those sad catastroph's of our wretched dayes:
Hence that unequall share of joy and paine,
A drop of pleasure, but of woe a maine;
O, hadst thou lov'd God more, Eve not so well,
Thou wouldst have left us heires of Heaven, not Hell.
Who can describe what's sin? Nothing at all,
And must the masse of man for nothing fall?
All things ith' world God made, and God was glad,
That by his making hand they being had,
Onely thou misbegotten Monster, sin,
As Bastards use stolest at the Window in,
Ashamed of thy birth: God never put
Least finger to thy Essence: Hell was shut.
Thou wert' the Key to open it; day light
Changde by thy birth into eternall night.
Curst be thy birth day: let it not appeare,
Nor once be nam'd with th'other dayes o'th yeare.
Be long expected, and as thou shalt faile,
Be curs'd of those, who watch to chase the Whale:
On that black day let the Universe be sad,
And Furies onely at thy birth be glad,
For thou hast on us all these mischiefes hurld,
And made a Pristine Chaos of the World.
And weele be angry with thee, Grandam Eve,
The Mother of this Child: thou didst conceive
The odious Monster: Satan was his Sire,
But you adulterous Paramours conspire,
And with such slights juggle the businesse, that
Adam must father the mis-gotten brat.
God form'd thee of the mans selected bone,
To helpe him, that he should not be alone:
This was your taske: Have you not help'd him well,
And all his progeny to goe to Hell?
Eve must bring children forth in pangs and throes,
And make a joyfull father by her woes,
Which shee performes, with a delight in paine,
(One teeming past, another hasts againe.)
Eve must be subject to her Husband, and
A Vassaile alwayes be at his command.
Grounded on this, some Common-weales ordaine,
A Salique Law, the Distaffe shall not raigne;
Esteeming those God censured to obey,
Unfit for Government, and Regall sway.
And this first fault all mankind so has vext,
That men take all the Nation for a text
Of their invectives, dip in gaule their quill,
And with Satyrick lines whole Volumes fill
Against Eves sex, who in much ignorance bred,
Unable are their proper cause to plead.
But had they pens, as good as are their tongues,
They amply would retaliate such great wrongs:
And we should read, as well as loudly heare,
With how much patience they these scandals beare.
To my Honourable Friends, Master EDWARD, and Mistris RUTH PETRE.
We sing those Courtiers, who attend the Throne,
And act commands of that most absolute One,
Who gives all, takes from none, but what before,
Issued from his never exhausted store:
We likewise treat, with what despotike sway,
This Monarck governs, Citizens obey.
Plato fram'd a Republike, and it cost
Tullie much labour to write, what is lost,
A Common-wealth: so Aristotle writ,
His book of Politicks, prooving in it
How the best forme of Government is, where
One absolute Monarck shall the Scepter beare.
Be it so, or not, let slaine Cambyses Peres
Dispute the Question: jealousies and feares,
Arise on every side: a Monarck may
Turne tyrant, Nero, or Dionysius play.
Violently take your goods, command your Wives,
And what more precious is then both your lives:
Bring in an arbitrary Government,
Or feare, or scorne to call a Parliament.
Forget himselfe, and how one single clause
Of his life more commands then all his Lawes.
He acts on a conspicuous stage, and is
Subject to all his subjects clap or hisse.
Thus Monarcks may decline, and may not such,
Who to a state turne Kingdomes doe as much?
Suppose your Noblemen should beare the sway,
Even these may erre as well as tyrants may:
Consult, combine, to keep the people low,
And from the publike pressures potent grow.
A crafty party circumvent the rest,
Some few prevaile, the bad oretop the best.
From reasons rule, and square of Justice erre,
Before the generall, private ends prefer.
Athens a slave by thirty tyrants made;
And Rome by the Decemviri betrayd.
These promis'd cures o'th body politick,
But made the same a hundreth times more sick.
Weary of Kings, Rome ordains Consuls, those
Supprest, shee ten chiefe Magistrates will choose.
Rods onely scourg'd her in the dayes of Kings,
And Consuls, these few men with Scorpions stings
Slash the poore Commons, as none can be sure
Of his owne goods, nor in's owne house secure:
The people grumble: let 'em, this base Yoake,
They brought upon themselves, and till the'have broake
Their Asses backs i'th carriage must endure
The burthen: armed Cohorts shall secure
The tyrants lives, and military bands,
Force speedy execution of commands.
For the fond multitude, they never knew
Their proper good, nor what belonged to
Or worth, or manners; Peers and Monarcks know,
When they do injuries, that they do so.
But the base Vulgars unrestrained wil,
Is model of their actions good, or il.
A many headed monster, yet not one
Sconce stuft with Reason, or Religion:
Fiery in prosecution of what's new,
Which had, they presently their wishes rue:
And you as easily may, and even as soone,
Shape out and make a garment for the Moone,
Now crescent, now i'th full, now in the waine,
As satisfie the Vulgars fickle braine.
The Rable doated on this Parliament,
With clubs and staves for their protection went
To Westminster: gloryed to heare themselves
Cald Round-heads, others Cavaliers (new Guelphs
And Gibelines) what blood shed they? what fights?
Adventur'd for the Parliamentall rights?
How bountifully did they give their store,
Of gold at Guildhall? yea, contribute more
Then was requir'd. City and Country cry,
T' have reverend Laud and active Strafford dye,
As enemies to'th Realme, and Parliament;
And till their heads are off ne'r be content.
But now the case is altred, they rayle on
Both Houses, cry downe for oppression
Excises, are so impudent, they'd thrust
Them from their Voting, whom themselves did trust,
With all their rights; whisper, expresse their spight
In prose and verse, most dangerous pamphlets write:
Yea some ('tis strange) so rash they dare proclaime
Themselves the authors, and subscribe a name:
Boldnesse and mercy, these would spend their blood
Most willingly, our Senators are good,
And will not spil't, knowing a Magistrate.
Should th' Emperour Nero (yet young) imitate.
Who wept when he should signe to th' deaths of men,
Condemn'd, and wish'd he could not use a pen.
But howsoe're they hold a wolfe by th' eare,
Who court the multitude, and still must feare,
Heele byte 'em; all their bones are broke in twaine,
Who seek the fickle Vulgars love to gaine.
So weak our providence, so full of feare,
No state that's perfect can be stablish'd here;
None formed yet a body politick,
That sundry noxious humours made not sick.
Eutopia fancied by our learned More,
Had faults, and Platoes Common-wealth had more.
Let Genoa, Jena, Venice, Amsterdam,
And my deare London a republike frame,
As they have fram'd, some Constitutions are,
That erre from reason, and with justice square.
Yet when Philolophers with all their wit,
(Though some were States-men) faile, our sacred Writ
Shall speak a Common-weale, so sound, so sure,
That for eternity it shall endure.
For lift your eyes up, and contemplate them,
Who fill the Senate of Hierusalem;
There you shall see an ordered policy
Establish'd, a sure grounded Monarchy:
That on the Burgers has more blessings brought,
Then Common-weales have dream'd of, or have sought.
A glorious City, that surpasseth far,
Ninus vast Ninive, or the grand Caire:
Though that could vaunt of threescore miles in length,
Wals of unmeasured magnitude, and strength,
Almost two thousand towers as Babel high,
Threatning as Memphis Pyramids, the skie.
Yet if with Sion you both these compare,
Both silie cottages, both Sheep-coats are.
The pavement, wals, and roofe of gold are made,
With diamonds and precious stones inlaide.
That with their lustre give a constant light,
Although such need not, for the sable night
Is ever banish'd thence; (the fulgent rayes,
Oth' slaughtered Lamb, causing perpetuall dayes.)
No watch, no warding at the severall ports,
No military stations at the Forts.
Onely at every Gate an Angel stands,
And brandishes a Fauchion in his hands,
To keep Malignants out, as heretofore
Th' Angel kept watch and ward at Edens dore.
And when that shame of nature went about,
To break Lots house, the angels kept 'em out:
Besides the Citizens al souldiers are,
Knights of St. Vincent for their feats of War.
They made their passage through a crimson flood,
(As did the Israelites) of Iesus blood.
And Satan mindfull he was vanqush'd here,
Scarce lifts his eyes to Heaven, much lesse comes there.
The forme of Government is such; one King,
To whom all homage owe, and tribute bring;
His Court most glorious: Myriads of those Peres,
Whose charge it is to volve the circling Spheres,
Assist his throne: Cherubs who pierce, and see,
The secret Orders of the Deity.
And those Seraphike Lords, with firy love
Inflam'd, in and about the centre move
Oth' divine Essence. Sedentary be,
The thrones, and with a sweet tranquility,
Contemplate God. Ore sublunary things,
The dominations sway, and act their Kings
Commands; who uses to imploy the powers
When he will curbe those enemies of ours,
Th' Aerian Potentates: as Satan would,
Bring Moses body forth, that th' Hebrews should
It idolize, he was made hold his peace
By Michael, and from th' enterprize surcease.
Who take the charge of Kings and kingdoms, these
Are stil'd magnifique Principalities.
When God prodigious operations takes
In hand, he then the active Virtues makes
His instruments. Angels, archangels, are
His Nuntio's, when he pleases to declare
His mind to Mortals: the angel Gabriel went,
In Embassie to crave a Maids consent,
And as some Paranymph prepare a roome,
Where God himselfe should to our nature come,
And wooing in's owne person make a tye
Betwixt our flesh, and his Divinity,
The hypostatick Union was the Ring,
Did make the match, and to perfection bring:
And made our lumpe of despicable clay,
Ore the Empyrian Dominations sway.
What time the Spouse, both Jewes and Gentiles takes,
And with them both a mystique marriage makes.
The fervent Seraphin, and Cherubs be
Lords of Gods privy Councell, although he
Nor sits, nor needs much to deliberate,
What's to be done in businesses of State.
Yet some blest Angels know more of his mind,
And in the Book of Life (read deeply,) find,
The fixt decrees of his eternall will,
How he elects the good, rejects the ill.
Some leaders of Gods Army, whom he sends,
Or to subdue his foes, or aide his friends;
So Michael, Generalissimo, commands
The sacred Brigades, and Cælestiall Bands;
Guesse at their strength, by what but one has done,
Killing in Egypt every first borne son.
All this one night perform'd: Did not almost
Two hundreth thousand of the Syrian Host,
Oth' ground lye gasping, by one Angell kil'd,
And all the rest with Panik terrour filde,
Trudge with their King away? some Angel must
I'th latest day collect all humane dust:
When soules shall reassume their flesh, and give,
Account of all their actions done alive.
All these great Princes hourely waite upon
Their glorious King, encompassing his throane,
To doe him service, and i'th very name,
Each one Enucleates his Creators fame.
For every single appellation suites,
To be the Banner of Gods attributes.
The Seraphim proclaime that ardent fire,
Wherewith the Persons mutually conspire,
To give existence, and communicate,
To whats existent an accomplish'd state.
The Cherubs witnesse an abysse of skill,
In the production, and a provident will,
In government oth' world: both in the height
Of wisdome, number, and of weight.
How fitly doe the quiet thrones expresse,
Gods never to be altered quietnesse?
Who in himselfe immov'd, alwayes the same,
With various motions alters the Worlds frame.
Mutations in the fire, ayre, water, land,
And in all these God has a speciall hand.
But as some Rock fixt firmly midst the waves,
Stirs not a jot, although the ocean raves,
And boysterous winds conspiring with the tyde,
Cause noyse, and feare alike on every side:
So in the world, though daily motions be,
Changes of elements, and Kingdomes; he
Who changes all, sits quiet in his throne,
Ever the same unalterable, One.
Powers, vertues, principalities, display
With dominations a despotick sway.
The Angels fancied young with Cherubs wings,
The cheerfull expedition in their Kings
Commands: these ninety nine have never er'd,
But alwayes loyal to their God adher'd:
When Lucifer that Catelin lost his place,
These purchast glory, keeping their first grace.
A mighty Prince prepar'd Assuerus feasts,
And sent his Vassals to invite the guests,
And bid 'em forthwith to the banquet come,
They onely wanted to adorne his roome.
They all excuse; one answers, he hath bought,
A Farme, and goes to see if't be worth ought;
Another has bought Oxen, and must know
By tryall, whether they be good or no.
The third's a married man, and for his life,
He cannot obtaine licence of his wife.
What's to be done? must all the Kates be spoyld?
This noble Prince, and all his court'sie foyld?
No sure his servants goe to every street,
And take up all the passengers they meet.
Yet there is place: he sends for the Rif-raf,
They come sit at his table, drink, eate, laugh.
Such is Gods bounty, he prepared feasts,
Adorn'd heavens Hall, and onely wanted guests
To fill the roomes of those rebellious Fiends,
Wherefore to Jews and Gentiles out he sends.
Many excuse themselves: some pride of life
Retard, some hope of gaine, others a Wife.
But who can crosse Gods efficacious will?
Guests are compel'd, whether they wil or nil,
By congruous grace to come, and fill the seats
O'th trayterous Elves, and feed on dainty meats.
The lame, the feeble, and the poore in spirit,
By grace of Christ advanc'd, not their owne merit,
To Gods owne table, eate Cælestiall Kates,
Where Angels minister, and Jesus waites.
Of these in Heaven a countlesse multitude.
Inhabit, not as the base vulgar rude;
But deeply learned, having for their book,
Even God himselfe, on whom they daily look:
And as they more or lesse relations see
Ith' sacred triad, so they learned be;
And happy more or lesse, and what them all,
Most firmly comforts, they shall never fall
From this beatitude: some ages past,
This state of things shall end; theirs ever last.
No sicknesse, no diseases can come neare
That happy Towne, nor is there any feare,
That all consuming time, or pensive cares,
Shall issue furrowing wrinckles, or gray hayres:
Never sedition troubled this blest towne,
Since Lucifer that Boutifew fel downe.
And care is had that none shall enter in
The gates, defil'd with leprousie of sin.
Tis true, there's difference twixt the light of stars,
Yet cannot inequality breed jars:
No Saint repining at anothers share,
Though some more glorious then some others are.
All rest contented with their proper store
Of grace, and glory, and require no more.
And 'twere a madnesse any should repine,
The cheerfull Sun should on his fellow shine;
Or dropping Clouds with a fructiferous shower,
Upon his neighbours fields a blessing poure.
The selfe same mirrour bounteously reflects,
Upon a thousand severall mens aspects.
The aiery species, nor is lesse your view,
Because a thousand sharers are with you.
God is this glorious planet, this cleere glasse,
That cheers all, shews all objects as they passe.
Though he cheer all, though he be seen of many,
All this is done sans detriment of any.
And had there been millions of such worlds more,
Of saints, and angels, an innumerous store,
All had had heat, all had as clearely seen,
Yet th'object never penetrated been.
As easily God giving life and forme,
To al as he doth to the silliest worme:
And though to some his bounties ampler be,
Yet even in this we shal Decorum see.
As architects, who reare a house or wal,
When pondrous stones are fit, apply not smal:
When smal proportion will not massie place,
For so the worke would want both art and grace.
Such is Gods City made of lively stones,
Spiritual Chrysolithes, and Unions.
The Sardonix, and sparkling Chrysoprase,
Beryllus, Jasper, Christaline like glasse.
All these rich Jems proportionably cut,
Are in that forme, and decent manner put,
And of such quantity, and valour be,
As with the Universe shal best agree.
For if the workman shewed such curious art,
In making this low Orbe, and every part
Contain'd in it, how must his skill abound,
When he a palace for himselfe wil found?
We have view'd Gods City, know the subjects, now
Let's contemplate the policy and how
This mighty Monarck governs, by what law
So steers, his subjects love, yet stand in aw.
Kings are compel'd to imploy their subjects hands,
As usefull instruments of their commands:
They cannot live without 'em, nor are Kings,
Unlesse the subject necessary things;
Supply for life, and state, whence come their treasures,
But from the subjects purse? even to their pleasures
The subject must contribute, nor the field,
Nor River without Subjects pleasure yeild,
Unlesse the Falconer traversing the mounds,
Shall lure the Hawke, the hunts-men rate the Hounds.
In masques, and showes, and playes, which Princes see,
Subjects must revellers, and actors be.
If he rule wisely the best Monarck heares,
More with his subjects, then with his owne eares:
He must have ledgers, and his spies maintaine,
To informe what's done in Rome, France, Flanders, Spaine.
Ist' the least misery of Kings to stand
In feare of their owne subjects, least they band
Against them, or plot treason; Monarcks are,
Jealous when subjects grow too popular,
Too potent, or too rich; on purpose send
Them out Embassadors, to make 'em spend
Their formidable treasures: Or in shew
Of honour, let 'em for their Viceroyes goe
To the remoter Indies. Who can tell,
How many Monarks by their Vassals fell?
We need not travaile Greece, Rome, Beme, France, Spaine;
In our sole Britaine fifty Monarks slaine:
That Aventinus boldly dares report,
The Roman-German Emperor kept a court,
Where Kings were subject: none but Asses were
Vassailes to the French King, because they beare
Such heavy burdens; the Hesperian Kings,
Were Kings of men, because the Spaniard clings
So closely to his Prince. A King of Devils,
Our English King, by reason of the evils
Against their Kings done by the subjects hands,
Rebellions, depositions, murthers, bands.
Yet we must understand ther's mighty ods,
Betwixt the Commons, and terrestrial Gods.
Angels guard us, archangels wait on them,
Secure their persons, and protect the Realme
For Monarks sakes: let the world know that Kings,
Are gods on earth, and consecrated things.
Precious 'ith sight of God, in state most high,
Who touch 'em, touch the apple of Gods eye.
Semei may barke, Achitophel counsel give,
But how long after did these traytors live?
The polititian, farewell gently takes
Of all his freinds, and with decorum makes
(If hanging have a decency) an end
Of's loathed life. Semei is made a friend,
To the restored King; but with this law
(Which whilst he lives shal keep him stil in awe)
He must not leave his house: some few years passe,
His servants run away; mounting his Asse
He brings 'em back againe. 'Tis told the Prince,
And Semei dyes for's first, and last offence.
(Gods scourge oretaking (though 'tis sometimes long)
Still subjects, who dare doe their Monarks wrong.)
But though high powers guard Kings, yet we may see,
How to their subjects spleens they subject be.
No such dependant Monarchie in Heaven,
Where nothing by the subject can be given,
That was not Gods before: their very being
Glorious endowments, beatifique seeing.
For pleasure, not for want of power or skill,
He makes the Angels actors of their will.
Nor feares he mutinies; lov's the onely law,
Of their obedience, and a filyall awe.
Should any rise (which cannot be) one frowne,
Would easily cast to Hell the Rebels downe.
Who acts al things, above, beneath the Sun,
Needs no informers to know what is done.
The greatest Monark governs, as well clounes,
As Kings: in Heaven all are Kings, all weare crownes.
Nor can we reckon the innumerous list,
Of Gods apparent heyrs, coheyrs with Christ.
Commanders of his Military Bands,
Who for their brave exploits by Gods owne hands,
Have Diadems set on every Victors front,
Of precious stones, and every stone has on't
The trophees they have rear'd by Victories got,
As with the Devill, World, and Flesh they fought.
Thus is our Sions government in all
Points most compleat, truly Monarchicall.
To the right Honourable, Thomas Lord Brudenol, Master Robert Brudenol his Son, and my learned Friend, Master Iames Yate.
All good here scanted, if a Man have wealth,
He wants or wit to use it, or wants health.
This witty as Achitophel; but his case,
As poore as lobs, or worse: for he wants grace.
Onely in Heaven these Three are friendly joyn'd,
Health, Wealth, and choise endowments of the Mind:
Then the fourth Good on these Three former waites,
Angels, Archangels, Patriarcks are your mates:
With Prophets, Martyrs, Doctors to their King,
Melodious Allelujas you shall sing.
The end of Common weales is to procure,
A temporall happinesse, and put in ure,
All means conducent to that purpose, this
Obtain'd they rest contented with such blisse.
Was ever Rome, Sparta, or Athens blest,
With such a happinesse? Lets view the rest,
Of Common-wealths; they often chang'd their formes
Of government, to be secur'd from stormes.
Now Kings, now Peers, now Commons, now commixt,
All three; no policy long standing fixt.
Which shews that all your Common-wealths are lame,
Gaine not their ends, but onely at them aime.
Are private men more happy? Let us see
What's requisite to our felicity.
A plenteous fortune, Dowries of the minde,
To which the bodys health must be adjoyn'd.
(Does not such blisse stand on a ticklish point,
The Gout, or head-ach can put out of joynt?)
Then choyse associates must accumulate,
The full fruition of a blessed state:
And 'tis extension of a private good,
When friends pertake in our Beaittude.
Such have blind Fortunes various changes been,
That never yet a Common-wealth was seene,
Or single man, in whom these blessings joyn'd,
Friends, health, the goods of fortune, and the Minde.
In wrongs was Alexander fortunate,
His friends unfaithfull, minde intemperate.
What was his fury? what his drunkennesse?
When he slue Clitus, and Callisthenes.
Virtues in others can this Prince offend,
Which were they his, heed'in himselfe commend.
What can content this brainsick'young mans minde?
When what his foes cannot, himselfe will finde
A want in his owne greatnesse: Philips son,
Though Asia he subdu'd has nothing done,
Because Perdiccas hath a warlike brest,
Lysimachus amongst his Chieftaines best,
Can lead an Army. Attalus brave gate,
A shadow casts on Alexanders state.
Se'eucus is magnanimous, and where,
Dangers and death are most apparent, there
He will be formost, Ptolomy does rest
In Fortunes lap, all his attempts are blest.
Thus envy has, as Argus many eyes,
Above, beneath, on every side shee spies.
We hate Superiours, because they are so,
We feare least our Inferiours equall grow.
We look a squint on such we fellows see,
And have a jealousie theyle better be.
The best of Romans, and most worthy man,
Was Scipio Major, surnam'd African.
Was he accomplish'd? no, though wherein weake,
His noble Wife can, but disdains to speake.
Omitting these, weele come to Solomon,
A type of the Messias, Davids son:
This Monarck by his subjects even ador'd
For wisdome, with all rich endowments stor'd:
Well kend all plants, and could describe the tall
Cædar as well, as th' Hysop of the wall:
He knew all secrets, and could make his texts,
The causes influences on their effects:
He well was verst in what few mortals know,
Whence it proceeds, why these, and those winds blow,
And what learn'd Aristotle put beside,
His wits, he knew the ebbing of the Tyde,
And the refluxe: whether the Moone be cause
Th' Ocean in both observes such constant lawes.
Taught by omniscious God, he knew the motions
Of all the Orbs, and how their revolutions
Sway sublunary things, and whether those
Have a predominance in joyes and woes.
Whether our Lilie or his Booker erre,
Or we must Wharton 'fore them both prefer:
Had he writ Almanacks, (and sure he had
Such knowledge, halfe whereof would have made mad
All our Astrologers) by this we had seene,
What th' end of all our troubles would have been.
Sith these by Prophets onely are foretold,
For we are masters of our arts and hold
Our Fortunes in our hands: stars may incline,
But not necessitate thy will or mine.
Had he turn'd Alchymist (as many say
He did) he would have taken the right way,
To make projection come, and not with brags
Of Peru's mines, have gone himselfe in rags,
As our impostures doe, who rich men cheat,
Onely to sneak in tatters and to eate.
The Rabbins tell, so powerfull was his skill,
That th' aerie potentates obeyd his will;
And that in pity knowing how much hurt,
Is done to mankind by this glistering durt,
Cal'd Gold, the sinews of unnaturall war,
Lust, and ambition; and how Lawyers are
Furnish'd by this to feed eternall strife,
'Twixt friend and dearest friend, man and his wife;
And if men get the Philosophick stone,
All would be rich, proud, and luxurious, none
Go the right way; he therefore th' Angels bound,
By a strong oath, that whensoe'r they found,
Projection, neare to come, they should like thunder,
Fall on th' Alembiks, and break all a sunder,
And ever since projection has been spun,
Even to the latest day: then al's undone.
Though Empyricks whine and sweare some grievous fault
Has crush their stils, and made their science halt.
Our Solomon had a full theorie
Of all the morall arts: Oeconomie,
How we should rule our house, how rule a state,
How our unruly passions subjugate.
How we should children rule, and if we can,
Make every wife obeisant to her man.
What all surmounts by gift of prophecy,
He could the mysteries of our Church foresee;
And to one God a sumptuous Temple reare,
Prefigurating that which Jesus here
Founded: although to this inferiour far,
As to prototypons all shadows are.
Then wrapt with heavenly fires chast hymns enroule,
Wherewith the Spouse shall court the Church, the soule,
(His compheres) and as this musitian sings,
The amorous embraces of his Kings,
In strong allusions, and harmonious ayres,
What are his owne perfections he declares.
His comely body was a curious house,
For a composed soule. His Memphian spouse
Ith' following song thus shall her consort greet.
‘The fragrant roses and white lyllies meet,
‘In my loves face, his forme surpasseth far,
‘The sons of men: th' attractive graces are,
‘Dancing about his lips, when heele decide
‘Some doubtfull case, or else his wit is tryde
‘In parables, what Combs of hony flow,
‘What heavenly elocution does he show?
‘Kings and Domesticks, all astonish'd gaze
‘Upon him, and the happy fortunes praise,
‘Of the worst Meniall of his house, who stands,
‘And hears as well his wisedome, as commands.
‘If these enjoy such blisse, how great is hers,
‘Whom to his bed, and bosome he prefers,
‘His loyall consort, Empresse, turtle Dove,
‘His friend, compleatly faire, his onely Love?
Will you behold the royall majesty,
Of Spanish Kings? travell to Sicily,
Or else at Naples, view the Viceroyes port,
And all the glorious circumstance of Court.
But if youle see Magnificence indeed,
To Salems new adorned city speed.
There youle behold a mighty Prince command,
From the Sea shore to swift Euphrates strand,
Potent in horse and foot: innumerous sums,
Of coyne, of Serean silks, Arabian Gums,
Odours of Saba; every neighbour King,
Courts him with presents, or does Tribute bring.
His Fleet (in a firme league of friendship joyn'd,
With Tyrian Hyram) shall mount Ophir finde,
And marking when the Lyons goe to pray,
Seaze on the precious Ore, and bring 't away:
(For Ophir Lyons dig, and watch those Mines,
Of purer dust which covetous man refines,
And spreads about the world to maintaine what,
Ambition, lust, wrath, envy, levell at.)
Now view this glorious Monarck sit alone,
(Like some terrestriall God on's Ivory throne)
Or the resplendent Sun at noon dayes pride,
His Memphian Empresse sitting by his side,
In a rich pearl-imbroidered Cyclad dight,
(Resembling the faire mistresse of the night.)
Two massie Lyons made of beaten gold,
On either side the high-set-throne uphold:
Six steps th' ascent: a dozen Lyons are,
Of the same metall guarding every staire.
A world of Grandees wait upon their Prince,
Admiring his full answers, and deep sence:
Either as he Embassadors shall grace,
Or else enucleate some ambiguous case:
For pleasures now what were his house and court?
A City this, that Eden full of sport.
Ordered so well that every meniall knowes
His proper duties, and discharges those
Without disturbance to the rest, all move
In their owne centrike lines as do's behove,
Vassailes of Solomon: the plaines, the woods,
Yield profit and delight; the springs, the floods,
To fish-ponds turn'd, and made inhabitants,
About his house to water trees, flowers, plants.
When he feeds every element combines
To grace his board: the earth her richest wines.
Sea, earth, and ayre, present fish, fowle, and beasts,
And every day he makes Apician feasts.
At all his banquets, massie plate behold,
Cups, Tankards, Flagons, all of purest gold,
Embost with Jems: For gold, pearles, diamonds,
Abounded there, as rife as pibble stones.
What stately Masques, where wit with bravery strives,
Presented are before him, and his wives,
And concubines? (a thousand) every one,
So gracious, might be a Prototypon,
And single give ingenious Zeuxis lawes,
When for rich Croton he a Goddesse drawes,
At every straine such musique charmes their eares,
May paralell with the Harmonious spheres.
Such was the life of Solomon, and sure,
If you will character an Epicure,
Envelop'd in all pleasures, doe but look,
And seriously, upon this Monarcks book,
And you must grant an happinesse, if this
Low Orbe, and all things in't can yeeld a blisse.
But Moores, and Plato's Common-weals have been
Fancied ingeniously, though never seen.
And Xenophon with a neat pen could draw
A curious Cyrus, whom the world nere saw.
So Aristotle form'd a happy man,
In his owne braine, which no age could or can,
Or shall behold: Riches, and outward things,
Are temporary. Pleasure brings
No constant blisse: are wives, and women ware,
More precious? let our Ancestors declare
The worth of these. What is for silver sold,
Lesse valued is then Silver, lesse then gold:
A Wife by Gods command the Prophet buyes,
And with her having paid his Sicles lyes:
A Kings first daughter chaffer'd for the skins,
And flippits of preputiate Philistins.
We goe beyond their wisedome; now 'tis common,
Without a Dowry few will take a woman.
Five thousand, twenty, forty thousand crownes,
Laid downe upon the naile; wardrobes of gownes.
And rich attire, jewels prepar'd before
Shee enters her dread Lord, and husbands dore.
Yet notwithstanding all this stir and cost,
The haplesse husbands have by th' bargaine lost.
For some such shrews, or rather Furies are,
Their husband's better be without 'em far.
What are your Empires? what your large commands?
So many severall cares, as severall lands.
What are your stately masques? ingenious playes?
Wit uttered, showes perform'd by Popinjaies.
Besides this transitory life's so short,
That passing we can onely look at sport,
Not sit by it; that thread, the life of man
Spins out, fitly resembled to a span.
What's Solomon on his Imperiall Throne,
His Grandees all attending, every one
Praising his wisedome? Despicable clay,
Accoutred well, set forth in rich array:
Yet thus set forth a Lilly withering streight,
Shall quite eclipse this gaudy Monarcks state.
If wisedome, learning, erudition bring
Felicity; we must confesse this King
A happy man: but he himselfe shall grant,
Where's much affliction, likewise thet's much want
Of happinesse: though sciences delight,
Yet what a toyle is studying day and night,
To purchase arts; and when all's done none know,
What animates a dog, a cat, a crow.
We see when any such poore creature dyes,
The senslesse carkasse without motion lyes.
Death some thing must destroy, some thing divide,
That soule and body hath together tyde.
The union's lost, where is, and what is that?
Did constitute a crow, a dog, a cat.
We cannot tell, more then in generall,
How we these actuating soules should call.
We have surveigh'd the world and nothing finde,
Which can beatifie mans restlesse mind:
Created to be happy: must this end,
Be frustrate? must we toyle, and labour spend
In vaine? No! we will fly with wings of love
To heaven; and finde beatitude above.
The state of joy and pleasure, is the will,
The object either reall good or ill,
Yet such as clothes it selfe in the antique tire
Of good: the senses when what they desire,
They have, transmit to th' soule (their Queene) delight,
Which issues from the hearing, tast, smel, sight.
That pleasure is the soules, we are easily taught,
Because the will, or else some pensive thought
Can curbe all pleasure in exteriours tane.
Yea more, convert all pleasure into paine.
Faire Aletheia the search, and object is
Oth' understanding, and its proper blisse
Is formall verity: How are we glad,
When certaine demonstrations can be had,
In any science? through what labours run,
To finde how, where, by whom, such deeds were done?
Pleasures belong to th' will, and to know much
Gives the understanding great contentment: such
Knowledge have Sions Citizens; they know
All things; as torrents, so their pleasures flow.
A torrent, blessing the overwhelmed meads,
Derives his Origen from severall heads:
Heaven-threatning mountaines in abundance send,
Their fleecy snowes; the neighbouring rivers lend
Friendly their streames, heavens cataracts fly ope,
The earth to all her flood-gates gives full scope:
So shall there be a confluence of all good,
To make compleat the Saints beatitude.
Will understanding, memory, every Sence,
Shall freely give a large benevolence.
A body so exact in every part,
That skilfull nature cannot mend, nor art
Make better, after the age of Christ; for he,
As author, so th' exemplar cause must be
Of the Saints blisse; full of agility,
Can when it will through the aerie Kingdomes flie.
Drakes Ship as a rare monument was kept,
At Debtfort, 'cause she had the Ocean swept,
Encompassing the world, and ere the Sun
Had thrice his course through th' oblique Zodiack run,
Circled the coasts of parched Africa,
Of Asia, Europe, and America.
What is this world compar'd to heaven? a span,
To fifty leagues. Yet the Saints bodyes can,
As soone as the swift sun all regions see,
And at the journyes end not wearied be.
Then how pellucid bodyes made divine
By glory are? how radiantly they shine.
Here they were Tabernacles (though of clay,)
In which soules deare to God, a while made stay,
Organs oth' divine glory; so Pauls tongue,
Through th' Universe, Gods praise, and Gospell sung,
Orethrew Idolatry, orethrew false Gods,
His body for the true God scourg'd with rods.
Orewhelm'd with stones; in perils on the Maine,
His head by th' sword from off his shoulders tane.
These severall members for the severall wounds,
Shall be adorn'd with severall Diamonds.
Anadems of glory circle that blest front,
Gyrlands of richest Jewels set upon't.
The Proto-Martyrs body black and blew,
With stones shall shine in a most fulgent hue.
Such glorious dowries, the Saints bodyes grace,
That rocks and hardest marble must give place.
To make them way, nor can they suffer harme,
By any sword manag'd by th' strongest arme.
Subject to woes, to blowes, to torments here,
Senslesse of woes, of blowes, of torments there.
Parch'd Afriks glory (borne in's mothers eyes)
An happyer issue of her holy cries,
Then of her wombe) would magnifie three sights
Above all other temporall delights.
To see our Saviour in that flesh araid,
In which he was to the false Jewes betraid,
By Gentiles crucified, rose from the grave,
And by his death did Jewes and Gentiles save.
To heare the Doctor of the Gentiles Paul,
Either in the Athenian-judgement Hall,
From th' unknowne statue fit occasion take,
And to his auditors a Sermon make:
Or in the Synagogues, instruct the Jewes,
How he whom they so barbarously did use,
Naild to the Crosse should with much glory come,
To give all Mortals an impartiall doome.
Or else before the Roman Presidents,
Thundring Gods judgements, and what punishments
Attend transgressors, with his Rhetorick make
Affrighted Fælix and Drusilla quake.
Then what a glorious sight wil't be to see,
Great Rome in all her former Majesty?
Or in Augustus, or Vespasians time,
Proud with the Trophees of the Easter clime?
The spoiles of Nations Cæsars bringing forth
In Ovant pompe, what in the South and North
Was rich, and glorious: Souldiers crown'd with Bayes,
Ecchoing in Pæans their Commanders praise.
Rome at the greatest was but thirty miles
About; had for its houshold-stuffe the spoiles
Of the whole World: the riches of all Realmes,
Arabian Gums, and gold, Egyptian Gems.
What's thirty miles to Sions amplitude?
What's the worlds treasure to Beatitude?
We speake a Citie, where large Kingdomes are
The gracefull streets: Rome, Babylon, Grand Caire,
But simple Cottages compar'd with ours,
Their Pallaces, their high-Heaven-threatning Towers,
But sties for swine: though we fond mortals cry
'Em up, not knowing true Felicity.
Heavenly Jerusalem with jems is built,
The Wals, the Battlements, the Turrets guilt,
The streets are pav'd with Saphire, Ophir stones,
Berill, rich Carbuncles, and Uniones,
In such a Citie, (when the blest soules must,
Be reunited to their wonted dust,
Compleated by that Union) the Saints shall
Have lordly domination over all
The World, and seated in Majestick chaires,
Judge Nations, heires of God, with Christ coheires.
Be conversant with him, humbly adore,
And kisse those wounds by which he triumph'd ore
The grave, and Hell; acknowledge his sole blood,
The onely price of their Beatitude.
Therefore with the Elders every Saint casts downe
Prostrate at Jesus feet his royall Crowne.
Not onely in the mirrour of Gods minde,
You shall the Apostles, Paul, John, Peter finde,
But all the Patriarcks, Martyrs, Doctors see,
Converse, and with 'em most familiar be.
Heare every passage of their lives and deathes,
How the stout Martyrs purchased their wreathes.
Heare Paul relate through what Seas he did wade,
What dangers scap't, where, what Orations made,
And before whom; what good his Sermons wrought,
And who by them into the Church were brought.
And as he speakes, so act at every straine,
That you would think you heard him preach againe.
Your understanding shall be lightened so,
That you the severall Hierarchies shall know,
See perfectly what now, wee but in trust,
Take up; if every Individuum must
Bee' a severall Species by it selfe, and God
Must needs of the same Forme create and od;
Suppose, if two of the same forme heele make,
He must our Mother, the first Hyle take.
But these are Nicities: Your principall
Happinesse is God, whose Vision includes all
May satisfie. What's done in Heaven, the Son,
By his Father got: active Spiration.
How these embracing mutually conspire,
From both their heats, to give eternall fire
Its Origen: which sent by them shall move,
In such a circle, that with ardent love
The World shall burne, acknowledging a Law,
That shall both Jewes and Gentiles keep in awe.
A Law not of sterne threats and fetters made,
To compell man; but gently shall perswade,
Attracte with tyes of love, no more command,
Then what may easily with practice stand.
Let's well observe what things are requisite
To draw from Scientifique arts delight,
So shall we know what they, and how much pleasure
Enjoy, who purchast have this hidden treasure.
A power, a faculty, apt to conceive,
And from proportion'd objects formes receive;
And knowledge, and delight, compleater be,
According to the objects dignitie.
This power cognoscitive must be combinde,
With th' object, and the closer it is joynde,
The more it knowes, receives the more content,
And both increase when th' object's excellent.
Can any object be like God? of good,
The fountaine, in himselfe Beatitude.
Of bounty, mercy, justice, a vast Ocean,
Whose every vertue, every single notion
Speaks an abysse of worth; where sily sheepe
May wade, Elephants may swim, not reach the deep.
With this sea of perfections, sea of good,
The soul's so joyn'd, tis swallowed in the stood.
Immerg'd so deeply in that vast abysse,
That with it one, and the same spirit 'tis.
Knowes all his immanent acts, sees all respects,
Which his All-potent hand has to effects.
Is entred to all Gods joyes, and injoyes
Made one with God, all treasures, pleasures, joyes.
Gods all in all things, and whom he unites
So neerly to him, with him all delights
Pertakes; nor need the blessed journeys take,
To seek Beatitude; God alone will make
Them happy, having in himselfe all store
Of bounty, mercy, justice, wisedome, power.
And such an object how must it distill,
Torrents of pleasures on the ravish'd will?
How shall our memorie, that rich Magazin,
Of all Idæas showing what has been,
Is extant, shall exist before us lay
All acts from the Worlds cradle to this day?
Present all passages through our life run,
The manie favours God for us hath done:
The many dangers we have scapt, the fights,
We had against the world, the flesh, the slights
Of Satan, how God aided with his grace,
And brought us Conquerours to this happy place,
Where (our browes circled with triumphant bayes)
Eternally we shall his mercies praise.
Then we surveigh the worlds Chronologie,
And entring in Gods Cabinet councell see,
Why he so oft hath suffered just men here
To be opprest, the wicked domineere.
Plainely perceive these miserable times,
To issue from the deluge of our crimes.
Our bloody sins have made so loud a cry,
Nothing can cure us but Phlebotomie.
We did abhor the very name of Peace,
The clamour of the Drum shall never cease.
We chase Religion out the Land, not any
One can content us, now we have too many.
Did too much plenty cause a surquedrie?
Famine shall cure it, and much penurie.
The stock of cattle spent, a barren yeare
Shall Victuals make, and Corne excessive deare.
Excises shall, set up on every score,
Adde to the famine, and undoe the poore.
Necessity caus'd taxes, the same Law,
Must keep 'em up to keep the rout in awe.
Why did th' ambitious Horse endure the bit,
To chase the hart, then would be free from it?
But cann't; who thrust themselves into a yoake,
Deserve to beare untill their backs be broake.
The Saints shall see why God permits all this,
And not a jot be troubled in their blisse,
For those blest Citizens of Sion be,
As well from trouble, as from sicknesse free.
Nor can their Kin, or dearest friends annoy,
Though knowne, diminish their eternall joy.
For mercies towards themselves, to God they owe,
And praise his justice in Delinquents woe.
To the right Honourable, Edward, Earle of Dorset, Richard, Lord Buckhurst his Son, and my truly honoured Friend, Doctor Samuel Turner.
Man labouring like the Spider, when al's done,
Tis but a simple Cobweb he hath spun.
The Epirot will with his Armies rome
Abroad, to gaine what he injoyes at home.
Well may we learne of the industrious Ant,
To gather treasures 'gainst the time of want.
Such is that dreadfull day when all soules shall
In publike audience, give account of all
Their life. The good mounting in heaven shall dwell,
The bad descend downe to th' Abysse of Hell.
How does the Spider toile, and when al's done
Tis but a silly cobweb shee hath spun:
Worth nothing, of no durance, every blast
Can break it, with a dish of water cast,
It falls; or Joane when shee makes cleane the roome
Sweeps downe the Cobweb, and with her long broome,
The Spider kils; from heavens embroydered hall,
The Angels see (who with one act view all
Thats done on earth, (so doe the Devils too,
And crave such acts as to their nature due.)
Fond men with the laborious Spider toile
By day and night are troubled, keep a coile,
To purchase Lands, and Titles, and all done,
'Tis but a silly Cobweb they have spun.
Your goods, your lands, your glorious titles be,
Expos'd to Fortunes mutability.
The Senates anger, or a Kings displeasure,
Commands your liberty, life, honours, treasure.
How many Princes, mounted even to th' top
Of Fortunes wheele, have falne? and without hope
Ever to rise; who but the other day,
Ore many Nations had Monarchicke sway?
How many wealthy men, even in our times,
Either for reall or supposed Crimes,
Have been dispoil'd of all? and know no more
Of their vast treasures, but that heretofore,
They had aboundance: And 'tis no releife,
To have been happy, but a greater griefe.
So rich men onely dreame of goods and lands,
And waking graspe just nothing in their hands.
A sicknesse soiles the choisest beauties grace,
Time leaves his surrowes in the smoothest face.
Wast not a frensie in the Epyrot
To boast when his Victorious sword had got,
Great Rome and Italie; he would waft ore,
And land his forces on the Lybick shore.
Africk subdu'd, hee'd conquer France and Spaine,
Then Asia, and the Easterne Regions gaine.
The sage Philosopher demanding leave,
Thus does the haughty Pyrrhus undeceive.
‘What title have you to invade these lands?
‘'Tis not the number of acquirde commands
‘Makes Monarcks potent? rather such are weake,
‘Who in their Conquests lawes of justice breake.
Pyrrhus. ‘Doe not I lyneally claime my descent,
‘From great Achilles, who to Ilium went?
‘And Neoptolemus his warlike son,
‘Who sackt the Citie of Laomedon.
‘I tell thee Cineas thy friend Pyrrhus springs
‘From Alexander, and Molossian Kings.
‘Who like Joves thunder through the world did flie,
‘Imp'd with the plumes of nimble Victory
‘And of the East a speedy conquest made;
‘And had there been more worlds, my Kinsmans blade
‘Had all subdu'd. From great Æacides,
‘My mother, from renowned Hercules
‘My father drawes his stem; from both my blood,
‘And both excite me to be great and good.
‘Feare argues basenesse, Demi-gods and Kings,
‘Are borne t'attempt, and act Heroick things.
‘Have I degenerated? did not these hands
‘Defeat Demetrius, and his bay-crownd bands?
‘When I was young, whose valour but mine owne
‘Worth could restore me to my Fathers throne?
Here Cyneas smiles, and pitying much his Prince,
(Pardon first beg'd, thus speakes without offence.
‘Ist not a folly (Sir) to vaunt of blood?
‘When such are onely Noble, who are good.
‘And tis a signe of small inherent worth,
‘When kin and cloathes are urg'd to set us forth.
‘True worth and vertue not by deed of gift
‘Or birth descend, but we must make a shift
‘To purchase 'em. Such are more noble, who
‘(First) raise a house, then they who (last) undoe.
‘As valiant deeds, so kindred then are best,
‘When others, not our selves the same shall test.
‘Gaurus cures any sicknesse, if not nam'd,
‘Speake Gaurus, and his Energie is maim'd.
‘'Tis brave to do exployts worthy the Pen
‘Of Homer, and Herodotus, but then
‘Beware to be the trumpe of your owne praise,
‘Let Courts and Cottages your trophees blaze.
‘For noble vertue like some streame that's deepe,
‘A constant, but a silent course will keepe.
‘When shallow Riv'lets, which on Pibles glide,
‘Make louder noice then Seas at a full tide.
‘Alive we build no Monuments of Fame,
‘To our owne memory, but leave the same
‘To progenie: The father tels his son,
‘The worthy acts his Ancestors have done:
‘So we acquire addition to our glory,
‘When we being silent others speake our story.
‘But tell me (Prince) when what yo' intend is done,
‘And we have conquer'd all, where th' humble Sun
‘Declines and where hee gloriously appeares:
‘How shall we spend the remnant of our yeares?
‘Pyrrhus to this replies, Then comming back
‘To our native Land, weele free from cares drink Sack,
‘Fare jovially, consume the dayes and nights,
‘In banquets, revellings, and fresh delights.
‘Wearied with sports, our choisest Captive Dames,
‘Shall set our bloods on fire, then quench our flames.
‘The ayre, the land, the Ocean shall conspire,
‘To furnish us with what we two desire.
‘Why all this stir? why must we goe so far,
‘Expose our selves to th' hazard of a war?
‘Suffer the heat of dayes, the cold of nights?
‘Such Victories obtain'd enter new fights?
‘Suppose we conquer Rome, Africk, Spaine, France,
‘In Asia our victorious flags advance,
‘What have we got? lets cast up our account,
‘To how much does the totall summe amount?
‘That Pyrrhus and his Cineas comming back,
‘T' our native Land, may free from cares drink Sack,
‘Fare jovially, consume the dayes and nights,
‘In banquets, revellings, and fresh delights.
But cannot Pyrrhus and his Cineas doe
All this in Epire? why should we run through
So many dangers; wherefore fight and rome?
When we may have this happinesse at home.
O foolish mortals, senslesse cares of men,
To leave what we injoy'd at home, and then
To seek't abroad, with losse of limbs, and lives,
Our daughters rapes, deflouring of our Wives.
Had we not peace? what have we got by wars?
But undone families, but death, but scars,
(The tests of civill fights) with English gore
Wee are forc'd to purchase what we had before,
And might have still enjoy'd, had we not been
Selfe-authors of our mischiefs, and brought in,
All the destructive plagues that wait upon
A Common-weale rent by dissention.
A state before indifferently good,
Turn'd shambles, an Acheldama of blood,
And slaughtered corps; 'tis true, before w'had many
Religions with us, now we scarce have any.
And what must be deplor'd with gushing teares,
Weake hopes of better, but of worse strong feares.
Yet now (with Pyrrhus) we have conqur'd all,
Lets bury strife in a just funerall.
As Christians ought, know the best end of blowes
Is clemencie, and to forgive our foes.
Such moderation Cajus Cæsar made
More lov'd and fam'd then his victorious blade.
That conquer'd Cæsars foes; but mercy takes
Cæsar, and of himselfe a conquerour makes.
They're Wolves and Beares, who on dead Bodies pray,
The Lyon scornes a prostrate foe to slay.
Is not Gods chiefest atribute to show
Much mercie to transgressours? such who know
To pardon injuries resemble God,
Who more delights in favours then the Rod.
And in the midst of's fury does asswage,
With clemency the rigour of his rage.
So when his doome strikes our first parents dead,
The Womans seed shall bruise the Serpents head.
And when the world is swallowed up in waves,
Just Noah and his Family God saves,
To be a future Nursery of men,
And to make populous the world agen.
Shall sins against our selves be thought almost,
As great as sins against the Holy Ghost,
Ne're to be pardon'd? shall our children rue,
And childrens children (what they never knew)
Their Grandsires errors? If't erroneous be,
To serve, t'obey, to fight for Majesty.
Dare we presume we have a Deitie,
In us to cast on faults infinitie?
Are we not mortall men? and shall we beare
Immortall enmities? Will we not feare,
Like retributions at Gods hands? Can we
For sins against that supreame Majesty,
Done by us vermine, who to God compar'd
Are nothing, hope by th' same God to be heard,
When we forgivenesse aske for Talents ought,
Our selves forgiving not a petty fault?
Will nothing satisfie? but deaths, but bands,
But sequestrations of mens goods and lands,
Will we not feare? will we not stand in awe,
Of the like recompence? or Talions Law?
How did we handle Strafford? how grave Laud?
We made a rod for them; now the same rod,
Scourges our selves, as our owne Souldiers plead,
They trace our steps, who first this dance dar'st lead.
How doe the Angels smile to see poore Ants,
More wise than the worlds chiefe inhabitants;
They toyle, they labour, gather here and there,
To hoard up graine against the following yeare:
When they are sure by winters frosts and raines,
To be besieg'd, therefore take all this paines,
To fortifie their hold; but man that knowes,
Not whether in the Sabboth, or the snowes
Of winter, he shall take his flight; (both times,
Unfit to travell into distant climes)
Provides not for his journie, scarce demands,
What coine goes currant in remoter Lands.
Sound faith, firme hope, love, hospitality,
Patience in trouble, meeknesse, piety.
These when our soule does the fraile body leave,
Shall in eternall mansions it receive.
And when we all by th' Angels summond must
Be reunited to our wonted dust,
And Christ appeare in his majestick state
Of glory, in the vale of Josaphat;
Myriads of Angels waiting on their prince,
(All of the Judges verdict in suspence.)
These shall conduct you up to Christs right hand,
Where without dread securely you shall stand,
And see the Book of Consciences liad ope,
And all our actions done under the Cope
Of heaven made knowne, then heare the Judges votes,
Remunerating Sheepe condemning Goates.
‘Ingratefull wretches why have you misus'd,
‘Those treasures I have given you, why abusde?
‘Your stewardship, not knowing, or not caring,
‘How I to thousand others have been sparing,
‘To you most bountifull? your labours blest,
‘Your sheep, your oxen, and your stocks increast;
‘Your eares of corne yielding a hundreth fold,
‘Your Ships returnd loaded with spice and gold.
‘And why all this? that your superfluous store,
‘Should finde out, pity, and relieve the poore.
‘Amongst the needy distribute your pelfe,
‘Whom I esteem'd my Brethren: more, my selfe.
‘But your boards furnish'd with choise Kates and Wines,
‘Distressed Lazarus at your threshold pines.
‘You strut in silks and purple, Lazarus begs
‘Your crums to satisfie his hunger, rags
‘To cloth his nakednesse, bind up his wounds,
‘But finds more mercifull then you, your Hounds.
‘You cruell men, what pleasure did you take?
‘When you could severall Goales and Prisons make
‘To torture poore offendors; as if God,
‘Had not for you as, well a scourging rod,
‘As them: did ever your superfluous store,
‘Comfort a prisoner, or relieve the poore?
‘How many starv'd in prisons thither sent,
‘Even for no crimes, at your commandement?
‘And being petition'd for poore men in clogs,
‘You cryde out, let 'em famish, hang 'em dogs.
‘Thus you your Christian brethren did abuse,
‘As if or they, or rather you were Jewes;
‘Put in authority, you so did beare,
‘With cruelty your state, as if you were,
‘Not as are other men, but Wolves or Fiends,
‘Still seeking blood for private splens, eand ends.
‘Deafe to laments of others, with false lies,
‘Detractions, slanders, feares, and jealousies,
‘Cozoning the world; making the multitude,
‘Your instruments in shedding guiltlesse blood.
‘So at the Priests command, the rabble cride
‘When I was judg'd, Let him be Crucifi'd.
‘When help'd you widowes, and the fatherlesse?
‘When gave you lodging to the harbourlesse?
‘Wretches pack hence to subterranean vaults,
‘Prepared for the Devils and their faults.
This sentence given; with flashes, and with thunder,
The yauning earth shall forthwith rive a sunder,
And swallowing in her jawes, conveigh to Hell
The damn'd, who there eternally shall yell.
And waile in flames their most accursed state,
With Devils whom they here did imitate.
Christ gently turning toward's the elect his face,
Speakes mildly, but with a Majestick grace.
‘You blessed of my Father, come, pertake
‘That kingdome, and those joyes which for your sake,
‘When the foundation of the world was layd,
‘By God predestinated were and made;
‘For when my members beg'd from dore to dore,
‘You gently did support them with your store:
‘When hungry, fed 'em, thirsty, gave 'em drinke,
‘Nor were you frighted with the loathsome stinke
‘Of cut-throat Goales, but when they lay in gives
‘Your supreme charitie, preserv'd their lives;
‘When they were sick you ministred unto 'em,
‘When they were wounded, and the Priest not knew 'em,
‘Nor Levite, you like the true Samarite,
‘Taking compassion from your Horse did lite,
‘Bound up their wounds, and brought 'em to an Inne,
‘Which you had made an ample Magazin
‘Of Chirurgerie for the sick, and with much pity,
‘Erected Hospitals in every City.
‘And you who for profession of my word,
‘And Church, and faith, dreaded nor fire, nor sword;
‘Couragiously shedding your noble blood,
‘Have swum with Israel through a crimson flood.
‘You sowed my Gospels seed the whole world ore,
‘And rain'd on it your owne fructiferous gore,
‘To make it grow; and deem'd it your chiefe fame,
‘To suffer ignominy for my Name.
‘You wept when you went forth to sow this seed,
‘But now with joy you shall receive your meed:
‘Bringing along with you those soules to Heaven,
‘To whom you faith have and salvation given.
‘You learned Doctors dect with virdant bayes,
‘Shall issue forth as the fresh morne your raies.
‘You guided others in the way of right,
‘And now shall shine as stars ith' gloomy night.
This speech being ended with triumphant cries,
The judge, th' Angels, the Saints ascend the skies.
All Roman triumphs were but silly toyes,
Or rather gaudy feastings of Schoole-boyes.
Compar'd to this, where Christ the King of Kings,
With him his captives, yet all conquerors brings,
Into the eternall Citie. (All had bin,
Made slaves to death, and Hell, and both by sin
(They were enfranchiz'd by his precious blood,
On Golgoth shed, from this base servitude.
And fighting battailes of the God of hosts,
Subdu'd the world, the flesh, infernall Ghosts.)
For though the blessed Saints shall alwayes play,
(Their life being one continued Holie-day.)
Yet shall their first ascent more glorious be,
And solemniz'd with more festivitie.
The Hierarchies of Angels will attend,
And entertaine obsequiously their friend,
And fellow-sharer Man, leading the way,
And as they mount, sing hymns, and sweetly play,
What a magnifique spectacle shal't be?
To behold every distinct Hierarchie,
March in array, as if they went to win
A battaile, or some Citadel take in.
These Squadrons marching: of hiacinthine clouds,
A stately Chariot made great Jesus shrowdes,
And such his grandeure is, his beautie such,
Angels of viewing him have nere too much.
For now the glory of his soule, (which he
Injoy'd even in this vaile of misery)
Reflecting on his comely face a light,
Shall make it then the Sun (at Noone) more bright,
The Angels gone before, the Saints shall follow,
And Epinician acclamations hollow.
Apostles, Martyrs, (their fronts crown'd with bayes,
Shall blithly chaunt their grand Commanders praise.
The Patriarcks, Prophets, Doctors, Maides conspire,
With choisest voyces to make up the Quire.
Roses at every passage, as they goe,
And Violets on Jesus head they throw:
As if the welkin now turn'd Aprill Spring,
Would pay the latest tribute to its King.
The Airie Regions eccho in the eares,
Of our Musicians, what th' harmonious Spheres
Sweetly deliver; melodie of Lutes,
Viols, Theorbos, Clarions, Trumpets, Flutes.
This glorious sight so wondrously shall scare,
The Sun, the Moone, and every lesser Star,
That all the glittering Tapers, which cause day
And night, amaz'd perpetually shall stay
In the same Zenith; no more shoot their beames,
By winding motions of their Orbed Temes.
Hoping (although such hopes will be in vaine,)
They shall behold the selfe same show againe.
Comments about Devovt Rhapsodies by John Abbot
Poems About Birth
- 401. Devovt Rhapsodies , John Abbot
- 402. The Virgin Birth , A.j. Binash
- 403. The Historie Of Henrie The Seventh , Charles Aleyn
- 404. Destiny Is A Stranger , OGUNTADE HAFEEZ OLALEKAN
- 405. Love Of Life , Ernest Makuakua
- 406. Author`s Note (Revised) , Steve Trimmer
- 407. Kojo The Devil , Emmanuel chibuike ikechukwu
- 408. Rap Sheet Black Male , Clarence Williams
- 409. Tiparillo Valentine , Robert Edgar Burns
- 410. Oppian's Halieuticks Part I: Of The Natu.. , William Diaper
- 411. Christmas , Thomas Hill
- 412. Haiku- Birth Of Kittens , Anie Vans
- 413. Marks Made Upon Brain Body Before We Wom.. , Terence George Craddock (aft ..
- 414. The Christ Child , Joseph Ogbonna
- 415. Villanelle: Talk Not Of The Birth Of Pla.. , T (no first name) Wignesan
- 416. Birth Right , cyclopseven Ram
- 417. Pain , KitKat Smithh
- 418. Sweet November Eight , LIGHTCHEERFUL BRIGGS
- 419. Essays On Literature , alexander opicho
- 420. Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India .. , Romesh Chunder Dutt
- 421. Majestic Winter , Jack A. Rogers
- 422. There All The Time , Keith F. Arnold
- 423. Salsaabil 46 On Hakikot-E-Taqdir! Poem@.. , SAKISABRE Saki
- 424. Medulla Poetarum Romanorum - Vol. Ii. (.. , Henry Baker
- 425. 0023.Abhirami Andhadhi Slogan 22 , rajagopal. h..
- 426. Cycle , Aaron Brown
- 427. And Now, Hold My Hands O Mortal! , Preeth Nambiar
- 428. Heavens Very Special Child , lyrik foley
- 429. In Honor , Lauren B Called
- 430. The Birth , RAPHAEL KARIBO
- 431. A Face , Pere Risteski
- 432. I Was A Child , Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
- 433. Gossips , Jamiu Olanrewaju
- 434. My Water Just Broke , Opelo Boingotlo Letshwiti
- 435. Wings , Jessica Hernandez (teardrop)
- 436. Hostile By Virus , Unic Cjonr
- 437. Power Of Love , George mwandu
- 438. Belief-To Be Born Again And Again And Ag.. , Mary Mc Creath
- 439. Ballet Doesn'T Want You , Amelia C
- 440. Tudun-Murtala , MAHAMMA ADRIANNE
- 441. When I Closed My Eyes Again. , Andrew Ahile
- 442. Christmas! Christmas! , Winston Harding
- 443. My Precious Babies , Niki Nicholas Nkuna
- 444. Two Now One , Alex Segree
- 445. 2 Now 1 , Alex Segree
- 446. Goodbye , Alex Segree
- 447. Birth , Gerry Legister
- 448. Must I Have My Next Birth, O Lord! , sundaram chandrakalaadhar
- 449. The Rising Of The Moon. , Rhiannon blackbird
- 450. It's Really Sad That Dora And Esther Are.. , Susie Sunshine
New Birth Poems
- Villanelle: Who Would Put Us In This Blu.., T (no first name) Wignesan
- Villanelle: Who Would Put Us On This Blu.., T (no first name) Wignesan
- Love Of Life, Ernest Makuakua
- His Story Reincarnate, Artistry The Sound
- Novena Sire Prayer, Louis Borgo
- Birth, RAJ VIKRAM
- Self Help A Birthday Poem, Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
- That In-Between Period, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- The Gain Of The Birth, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Christmas Is Here, Jesus Is Born, Bryan De Poet
- carpe diem