Iesvs Praefigvred: Or A Poem Of The Holy Name Of Iesvs. The First Booke By John Abbot - Poem by John Abbott
PRINCE OF VVALES, DVKE OF CORNEVVALL, EARLE OF CHESTER, &c.
I doe not thinke the Verse I write,
VVorthy the honour of your Princely fight;
(And should you read no lines, but worth your view,
Men knew not what to dedicate to you)
But hauing nothing els to shew my zeale,
VVith VViddow, what I haue, I freelie deale:
To giue rich Donatiues great Princes vse,
T'is also greatnesse badge not to refuse
Smal presents; els how should meane persons showe
That duty, which to Potentates they owe?
To you my Prince I consecrate my booke,
Reward my Muse: with what? your gratious looke.
Vouchsafe to read our Poëm, vvherein all
Is written without malice, without gall:
VVee are not bitter at the Present time,
Onelie wee saie Rebellion is a Crime.
Aud auntient sectaries our verse doth strike,
VVho so shall doe your Highnesse needs must like.
And though wee speake in rime, as Poets vse,
Yet sacred veritie attends our Muse.
Truth on our Poëm waits: (an vpright cause,
To set it fourth needeth no lying clause)
In all our building there is not a stone,
But wee dare justifie to be our owne.
Certes now wee haue perfited our frame,
Casting reflections eie vpon the same
VVe doubt much vvhether vvee haue anie vaine
In Poetrie, because wee doe not faine.
Vouchsafe then Mighty Charles my Booke to view
VVhich is all Innocent, all smooth, all true.
Your Highnesse humble seruant Iohn Abbot.
Some vvill perchance object it is not fitt
That verses should by such as I be vvrit:
I ansvvere vvhen the subject holy is
VVho e're make Verses shall not doe amisse,
That Volume vvhich Iobs patience doth rehearse,
For no small quantitie doth speake in verse.
Of other Scriptures is not a great part
Compos'd according to Poeticke Art?
And if vve to the after times descend,
The sacred Catologue shall neuer end.
Hovv many auntient Fathers Hymnes haue vvrit,
In one combining pietie and vvitt
They erre vvho thinke a Poet hath no straine,
Vnlesse the subject of his Muse be vaine.
For vvhy hath Pegasus his vvings to flie?
If he must still keepe earth, ne're mount on highe.
Is it not pittie such a noble Horse
In Boggs and durtie vvaie should spend his force,
And manag'd by loose Venus vvanton Son
In paths of obsceane loue, his vvhole course run?
Recall your selues braue vvits: such vvaies to passe,
Better becomes an Apuleian Asse.
And though the Iades you ride on, do not tire
Yet doe they vvant the true Poetike fire
Fetcht from that Mount vvhere Virgins on a Hill
VVrite loftie Odes vvith a Parthenian quill.
There, there take horse: Nor are you streightned vvhen
You make faire virtue object of your Pen.
God, virtue, sins hate are a spatious field,
And vvell-tild can abundant matter yeild.
VVrite vvith a modest Pen such holy laies,
That Phœbus may vvith euerlasting baies
Your tempells Crovvne: els knovv that chaster times.
Shall sacrifice to Vulcan your loose rimes
And thou my Pegasus vvhom I shall vse
As Palfrie in this progresse of my Muse,
VVhilst of great Iesvs name thy Ladie sings,
Mount vp aloft vse thy best paire of vvings,
VVhen thou art forc'd to trampel here benea'th,
Be it a moment onelie to take breath,
And in the vvaie plaie not the Iade and tire,
But as thy journey, so increase thy fire.
A POËME, OF THE HOLIE NAME OF Iesvs.
The first Booke
VVe speake vvhat Ground, VValls, Painters vvorke
Roofe, Pillars, Lampe, hath Iesvs Kirke.
Give me a Quill pul'd from that Eagles vving,
VVho soaring in the bosome of his King,
Saw those deepe secrets, which his Books descrie,
And vve admire, but cannot looke so high.
Oh giue me such a Quill! and vvith the same
I'le vvrite vvhat vvorth is in that glorious name,
VVhich vvith the nevv yeare giu'n the vvounded Boye,
Did blesse the follovving times, vvith hopefull joye
Of a release from Sinne, from Death, from Hell.
(So many blessings in one Iesvs dvvell.)
Knovv Muse this Royall name is Oyle shed,
And o're the vniuersall vvorld outspred.
Bee Oyle too, learne in a 'sea to svvimme
Aboue thy selfe; yea others, streatch each limme
VVith courage out: this glorious titles praise,
Like Oyle aboue all other titles raise,
Thy subject is a Sea: behold thy selfe
In the vast Maine, no shallovv feare, no shelfe.
He vvho made all, and meanes novv all to saue
To shevv his meaning, vvill this Iesvs haue
For his ovvne name, and thinkes enough is done,
To make the vvorld reflect some nevver Sun
VVarming our hemisphëre, and giuing light,
Shall driue avvaie vvith graces beames blacke night.
VVho euer had this name, and vvas not high?
VVhat Iesvs euer vvas, and did not flie
Aboue the common pitche of humane race?
As if the name did bring a special grace:
If vvee see Iesvs forthvvith vvee shall see
Captiued Man from seruitude set free:
Victorious Tribes tryumphing ouer foes,
VVith equall lots, diuide the landes of those
VVhom they haue Conque'rd: hetherto hath stood
Adjoyning to this name a common good.
In fairest of-spring happie auntient Nun,
Bring foorth thy valiant and thrice vvorthy Son,
(Our Iesvs figure, honor'd vvith his name,
For Iosvah and Iesvs are the same.)
VVhose holie anger made Apollo staie,
And baite his firie horses in the vvaie;
VVho but a Iesvs such an act hath done?
VVho but a Iesvs could command the Sun?
VVho but our Iesvs, only hath the grace?
To make the Sun of Iustice, keepe his place.
That vvee not ouertaken by darke nighte,
Discerne may, vvhen, and vvhere, our foes to smite?
VVho can the promis'd land out-deale to his?
But Iesvs to vvhom Earth and Heauen is
By Father giuen; vvho but Iesvs shall
By stratagem surprise, and make to fall
Proud Haie, of present vvorld the figure right?
VVhich must be vanquisht, not by force, but flight:
Iesvs shall teach his Armie Haie to sacke,
By a strange stratagem of running backe,
VVhen they lie hid vvithin a Cloister vvall,
Then Haie by holy fire and svvord shall fall.
Shall I relate hovv Iericho falls dovvne,
VVhilest holy Israel about the tovvne
Goes in Procession: Iesvs vvalkes this round,
And bids the Priests their brazen trumpets sound.
I should dilate my selfe vpon this feate,
And largely explicate that povver great,
VVhich Iesvs giues to Priests absoluing vvordes
A greater force, then haue speares, lances, svvordes.
They can and doe, vvith their sole voices sound,
Cast battelments of Iericho to ground.
VVhat are these vvals, these battlements dovvne cast,
By sacred povvre of Priests forgiuing blast?
The vvals are sin, the bulvvarkes sin, sins guilt,
Hovvses, vvhereof proud Hiericho is built.
But hovvses, bulvvarkes, vvals, yea the vvhole tovvne,
As Priests doe blovv their trumpets, are cast dovvne.
I should describe, eake hovv the seuen-fold foe,
By Iesvs conqu'red, doth in myst'rie shevv,
Our deadly enemies: in number seau'n,
VVhich must bee conquer'd, 'fore vve enter heau'n:
Those kept the Israelites from promist land,
In our pretences these against vs stand.
VVhat artes, vvhat stratagems doth Iesvs vse?
As hee the vvarlike Chananites subdues?
To fight against vice rooted in the hart,
A speciall science is, a speciall art:
VVhich Iesvs doth, communicate to his.
By vvhom the promist land obtained is.
Then to describe the armie of our foe,
In vvhat disord'red order he doth goe.
Hovv against him great Iesvs soldiers fight.
Is subject for a holie Muse to vvrite,
But vvee must leaue it to some happie vvitt,
(Ours is not such) or to some time more fit;
speake of Iesvs vvho the People lead,
VVhen they from Babilon did homevvards tread.
And freeing them from proud Assyrias thrall,
Repair'd the Temple, and built Sions VVall:
For Records count, that the infernall King,
His Troupes against Ierusalem did bring.
And vvith the Cannon shot of deadly sinne
Making a Breach, the Cittie entred in.
Hovv many of the Tovvnesmen left he dead?
The rest vvith him to Babilon he lead:
VVhere vvretched soules, forgetting natiue house,
Forgetting Sions God, they doe carouse
In the VVhores Cuppe, and drunke vvith Babell vvine,
To Babels Idols, honours giue diuine.
The lusts of flesh, some doe adore; some Gold
VVith the Kings Picture fac'de, for their God hold.
Others doe build their Churches in the ayre,
VVhere they place honors Idol, all their care
Is to ascend, and vvith a bended knee
Praie the false God propitious to bee;
Each Man, as once in Salmanazars daies,
A proper Idol hath, and to it praies.
Our Iesvs seeing this vvith holy zeale
Of Fathers glorie, vvill procure the vveale
Of these blinde vvretches: hee'le indure no more
VVith Gods dishonour they such Gods adore.
And first vvith cunning hand of heau'nly might
He doth restore the blinde vnto their sight,
And makes them see their Gods vveare made of stone,
VVood, and like trump'rie, in them life had none
Inraged vvith themselues their vvrath they vvreake
Vpon the Idols, and their Puppets breake
In peeces: this being done, they doe conspire
To burne the Reliques vvith an Holy fire
Of diuine Loue. Then doth our Iesvs shevv
The vvay to Sion, and before them goe:
VVhere being come, and pittying to see
Hovv the faire Cittie vvalls destroyed bee.
The houses ruin'd, and the Church cast dovvne,
Nothing but desolation in the Tovvne:
He himselfe vesteth vvith apparrell base,
And clothed so, beginns to vvorke apase,
Exhorting his to doe in euerie thing,
As they see him to doe, their Prince, their King;
I cannot tell vvhat an effectuall force
To moue mens harts is in the virtuous course
Of Magistrates: each one thinkes it a grace
To vvorke vvith Iesvs, vvith him to be base
Cloth'd as their leader is, they fall to vvorke,
And helpe their Iesvs to build vp his Kirke.
My Pegasus is vvearie of his flight,
VVherefore my Muse, for some short space alite,
And vvhilst the Iade doth rest his lazie bones,
Let vs contemplate of vvhat VVood, vvhat Stones,
VVhat forme, vvhat matter the nevv Church is built,
VVhat Moyses vvorke it hath, hovv it is guilt:
And first if vvee behold vvith curious Eye
VVhat the foundation is, vvee shall descrie
The same to be a mightie Rocke of Stone
So great, and of such vveight that God alone
Could bring it thither: no created might
Can moue it thence: Gates of eternall night
Can do't no harme, no force can make it shrinke,
But vvho falls on this Rocke shall split and sinke,
Asking a vvorkman of the name, he saith,
This Rock icleped is Saint Peters Faith.
On this foundation is built vp a VVall,
Inuironing the Church, vvhich vvee vvill call
Firme Hope: So strongly made on euery side,
That it all injuries of Stormes shall bide.
No blustring persecution can it shake,
No tempting spirit, no rough vvinde can make
This VVall to shrinke; nay eu'ry aduerse blast,
(O vvonderful!) doth make it stand more fast;
And though this Hope seeme to be founded lovv
Vpon the humble Crosse; yet you must knovv
The vvorkemen still vvill eleuate the vvall
Till it doe æquall high Iehovas Hall.
Looke vp my Muse, if thou canst looke so high,
And to the Temples cou'ring cast thy Eye
VVhich thou shalt see made all of purest gold,
Adorne the vvorke, and vvalls together hold.
This Roofe is Charitie, vvho is a louer
Others defects vvill guild, his ovvne faults couer.
Loue is amongst all Mineralls the best,
The Ophir vvhere it grovves is a good brest.
Humilitie the Earth in vvhich most lovv,
As mines are vvont, this pretious Gold doth grovv.
God hath ordain'd this Mettall should so deepe,
Lye buryed in the Earth, that he may keepe
It safe from Theeues: Vaine-glorie and selfe-loue
Soone vvould it steale, laie it the ground aboue.
The Marchants also must in digging svveat,
Before they can so rich a treasure get.
But that vvhich made my Muse astonisht more,
VVas to behold a strange conceited Dore:
This vvas forsooth an euer-running floud,
A floud saie I? a mightie Sea of bloud
VVhich vvhen our Iesvs in Caluaria dide,
Did issue foorth his vvith Launce perced side.
As vve the vvaters of this Ocean vievv,
Behold a stranger vvonder doth ensue:
A Black-more borne, vvhere Phœbus too much vvarmes,
Full of diseases, hauing in his armes
A leprous Infant, in this streame his limmes,
And the Child vvasheth, then hee thorough svvimmes:
VVhen presently they both are cur'de both sound,
No spot, no Vlcer in their flesh is found..
Amaz'd vvee stand, vvhen see an Indian Foule,
In blacker body, hauing a vvorse soule,
Doth as the former through the Riuer passe,
VVhen he is made more vvhite then Christall glasse.
Good God saie I, are Elizævs yeares
Againe reuolu'd? Iordan againe appeares
In vvhose faire streames vvhilest Namaan doth bath,
Hee cured is, nevv flesh, nevv body hath:
Or comes our Iesvs to the Pond againe,
VVhere for the Sacrifice much Sheepe vvas slaine,
VVith vvaters motion virtue to bestovve,
To make foule Lepers cleane, lame Crepels goe?
This Church hath vvindovves, prudence, vvisdomes eie
Discretion, vvhich our motions doth descrie,
VVhether from God, good Angel, or our selfe,
They come, or from the vvorld, and Hellish Elfe.
Discretion teaching vvhen vvee ought to goe,
Into the field, vvhen to decline our foe.
For some sins must be ouer-come by fight,
Others must vanquisht be by prudent flight.
So Iosvah did thinke, flight the best vvay
To get the victorie against proud Haie.
Nor thinke it shame to runne avvaie from sinne,
VVee knovv the Parthians flie, yet the field vvinne.
Though Cæsar did from Alexandria svvim,
Yet none of Covvardise dares censure him.
Of Machabæus it vvas the least grace,
Against so manie troopes to keepe his place.
VVise men doe judge too hotspurlike that fire,
VVhich scornes or knovves not sometimes to retire.
VVho vvisely saues himselfe may fight againe,
VVhat good can he doe more, vvho once is slaine.
In this blest Church, neuer sad darkenesse came,
For in the midst doth stand a Holy Lambe,
VVho vvith his Raies giuing a constant light,
Chaseth avvaie the horror of darke night.
Hee doth illustrate all vvith beames of grace;
But chiefely, vvhen as many in this place
In Iesvs holy name assembled joyne,
And all their strengths in Vnitie combine;
Called together for some vrgent cause,
As generall contempt of Holie Lavves,
Or some vile Beast departing from the rest,
Doth seeke the flocke vvith Errors to infest:
Some rauenous Beare, some Foxe, some sensuall Svvine,
Doth vvith his Tuskes vnder the Temple mine,
That so (but t's impossible) vvith vvall
The intire Fabrique might together fall.
Such Arius vvas, Nestorius long since,
Iouinian, VVitcliffe, and the like, frem vvhence
The svvinish broode of this our present Age,
In their Sires vizardes plaie on the vvorlds stage,
VVhere they doe acte, the digging parte so vvell
That alvvaies the last Scene doth end in Hell.
VVho doth together this graue Senate call,
And sits as President aboue them all,
On vvhose descision questions doe depend,
In vvhose last sentence Controuersies end,
Is the Lambes Viceroye, in the Romaine Chaire,
Lavvfull successor, and Saint Peters heire.
To vvhom our Iesvs hath such povv'r giu'n,
That vvhat hee here doth, is confir'md in heu'n:
Peter rule thou for mee great Iesvs saies,
Of Sions Cittie I giue thee the Keies:
(Fond Sectaries this common truth conceiue,
VVho Keies accept, authoritie receiue,)
Alvvaies by him the Holy Ghost doth stand,
And euer as he vvrites, directs his hand.
So that vvhat e're in doubtfull points he saith,
Must be embrac'd as Article of Faith:
VVhat e'are he doth command is good, and ought
To be perform'd, vvhat he forbids is naught:
Hovv many Beasts, hovv many vvicked men
Hath he destroyed only vvith his Pen?
Therefore as heretofore vvhen Syrias King,
His Army against Israel did bring,
He did commaund his Soldiars to fight
Against sole Achab, him alone to smite.
Let the meane sorte, saith Benadad alone,
Against the King of Israell each one,
Direct his force, if he be kil'd or yeald,
Ours is the day, vvee gotten haue the field.
Sinne, Atheisme, Heresie, Infernall Ghoasts,
Proclaiming vvarre against the God of Hoasts,
To ruinate that Cittie, vvhich his hand
Hath built, and mauger gates of Hell shall stand,
Obseruing that their Troupes a daily harme,
Receiue by Peters heau'nly guided arme,
Chiefly on him they doe their furie vvreake,
At him they shoot, on him their Launces breake.
291: Proud Herod, and the first begotten Son
Of Satan, Simon Magus thus haue don:
Neroes and Dioclesians shall tell,
How odious Cephas is to feindes of Hell.
In battaile raye, none against Iesvs goe,
But they proclaime themselues first Peters foe,
Knowing if struck vvith Errors darte he die,
Christs Army vvith his losse dismaid vvill flie.
Your malice is in vaine Tartarean feindes,
Iesvs vvith loue his substitute defends;
Firme-faith the sheild is, vvhich repells all blovves,
Gods promise is the svvord vvhich kils all foes:
Hee is th' approued pretious corner stone,
VVhich Ievves and Gentiles doth conjoyne in one.
Proud scandals rocke, on vvhich vvhat shipps shall hit,
They suffer shipvvrack, and in peeces split.
Fairest Bizantium, Easterne Monarkes seat,
Glorie of Britaines Constantine the great,
VVho first in Eagles place, against proud foe,
Our Iesvs Crosse in Labarum durst shoe;
Let mee shed teares, vvhen I reuolue thy fate,
VVhy vveart thou not contented vvith thy state?
To sou'raingty vvhy doest thou so aspire?
Then God would haue thee, why wouldst thou be higher?
Peter, not thou must vveare the triple Crovvne,
VVho doe exalt themselues, shall tumble dovvne.
The tribes beguil'd by Hieroboams art,
From Ivdas royall progeny doe part;
And scorning to haue Davids Sonne their King;
Scepter and Crovvne to Ieroboam bring:
And though it vvas expresse Iehova's vvill,
That in no place but holy Sions hill.
They should obserue their Neomenian Feasts,
And sacrifice their Hecatombes of beasts:
The tipick bloud of Paschal Lambe be spilt,
In that sole Church vvhich Salomon had built:
In Salems streats so many times each yeare,
Dilated Iacobs of-spring must appeare.
And none but those vvho are of Leuis race,
Shall in the Temple haue a Church-mans place;
VVhen Israels sons amongst themselues contend,
By Aarons verdict must the question end.
Desire of sou'raigntie, and Empires cause,
Makes Ieroboam breake these holy lavves,
Hee'le haue high places, and inuent a God,
VVhich hath free'd Israel from Pharoes rod;
Bethel and Dan, shall haue tvvo Calues of gold,
And many Idols shall Bethauen hold:
His Pursiuants such passengers shall staie,
VVho tovvards Ierusalem doe take their vvaie:
For Tyrant thinkes his Crovvne not to sit fast,
Should Ephraim and Iudas friendship last,
Hee makes vnvvorthie vvights the incense burne,
To plaie the Priest any shall serue the turne,
Diuided thus sin, vpon sin they add,
And though afflictions often make them sad:
Yet no Elias, no Assyrian rod,
Can make the stiffe-neck'd tribes returne to God:
Vntill at last great Salmanazar came,
VVhip of Gods furie, guerdon of their shame,
VVho vvith vvars-svvord, the Infants bloud doth spill,
Defloures their Virgins, and their vvarriors kill:
And vvhere his murth'ring furie doth not range,
They death for greater miserie doe change:
Hauing the markes of slaues, gyues on their hands,
They are led captiue vnto forreine lands,
VVherein eternall seruitude they spend
Their vvofull daies: in seruitude they end
Their vvretched liues. But Iuda shall be taught,
VVith short captiuitie, to mend his fault.
Though Babels Monarcke lead to Memphis tovvne.
Subjects and King, yet vvhen his Son fals dovvne,
From Empires top, the Persian Kings shall giue,
Iudæa leaue, home to returne and liue
In Sions tovvnes: but Ephraims vvicked race
Shall ne're come backe vnto their dvvelling place.
VVho did refuse to honour Davids throne,
Vnder Idolaters opprest shall grone.
Thinke Grecian Dame, my verse of thee hast spoke
VVho from thy hautie necke hath cast the yoke
Of diuine Order, and in Northern ayre,
Exalted hast vvith Lucifer thy Chaire:
Thinking to meane a Patriarchall seate
Aboue thy merits graunted; yet more great
Thou striu'st to bee: and casting Peter dovvne,
On thy ambitious head, dar'st vveare his Crovvne,
Carried in emptie Clouds of a proud hart,
Thou leau'st Christs sheepfold, & from Church dost part
Iesvs our humble God, doth from his throne,
VVith angrie eyes behold tvvo made of one;
Hee hateth schisme, and hath this sentence fixt,
The proud shall drinke a Cup vvith much vvoe mixt.
Thinke the incursions of the Sarzen King,
VVeare gentle rods, thee back againe to bring.
And knovv that as thy schisme and sin did grovv,
So likevvise did increase thy plagues, thy vvoe.
Hovv oft didst thou thy heresies forsvveare?
Hovv oft didst thou returne to Peters Chaire?
Hovv oft didst thou againe vvith the foule Hog
VVallovv in myre, hovv often vvith the Dog
Returne to vomit? but Gods patient hand
Can hold no longer: h'eele no longer stand
VVaiting repentance, lenitie must cease,
VVhen often vvrongs admit no speach of peace.
Barbarians shall be scourges of thy sin,
Fierce Mahomet shall proud Bizantium vvin,
Thy Cæsar murd'red in the streats shall die,
VVhere heapes of vngrau'de Citizens shall lie.
At a high price some vvretches buy their liues,
VVith goods losse, and dishonour in their vviues.
Thy Romane Eagles yealde to Turkish Moone,
In Churches rights of Mahomet are done.
In fine thou suff'rest vvhatsoeuer harmes
Vse to attend a cruell conq'rours Armes,
And vvho aloft vvith Lucifer vvould'st dvvell,
VVith rebell Angel, tumblest dovvne to Hell,
same confusion is, lavvlesse desires,
In practise put; are thy tormenting fires,
Thy Conscience is the vvorme, the Diuels Turkes,
The fires fuell is schisme and euill vvorkes:
VVith enuie thy teeth gnash (part of thy paine)
To see thy riuall in such glorie raigne:
Darknesse, thy ignorance, and vvant of grace,
Disordred Passions, horror of the place;
Thoughts of despaire, thy miseries attend
To thinke this seruitude shall neuer end:
For vvho in schisme didst vvith Samaria fall,
VVith her must suffer an eternall thrall.
But Rome is Davids house, the Goth, the Hun
VVith Citties spoyle, shall punish faults, vvhich done,
Adaulphus leading his fierce Goths to Spaine,
Christs Vice-roye, to his Rome shall come againe,
VVhere hee shall sit on Davids promis'd seate,
And giue just Lavves, vvhilst Sun giues vvonted heat.
To decke the Church a cunning vvorkeman paints,
The liuely Images of diuers Saincts.
But vvhat doth make most glorious shevv of all,
Is Iesvs name, vvritten on euerie vvall.
There see vvee Pavle, the name of Iesvs hold,
Diuinely stampt in characters of gold:
VVhich flying through the vvorld vvith Cherubs vvings
Hee carries before Potentates and Kings.
I'le not vvith Silius goe to Maroes graue,
And at his dust a holy fury craue,
To praise this vessell; but Ile aske to share
A part of Chrysostomes Cælestiall ayre.
That svveetly guided by his serious sp'rite,
As they require, I maie Pavles praises vvrite.
Pythagoras savv no Troie, yet vvish I,
His vvittie transmigrations vveare no lie.
That vvhil'st I treat of such renovvned men,
Some Heroes spirit might direct my pen.
Let his deuotes commend him for his zeale,
Or that he hath spread Iesvs common vveale,
Throughout the vvorld, afflictions, sorrovves, bandes,
Yea vvhat not suffred, both on sea and landes,
The loue and chiefest object of my muse,
Shall be because our Iesvs did Pavle chuse,
A speciall trumpet to sound out his fame,
And blazon through the vvorld great Iesvs name,
Exalting him vvith this peculiar grace,
For Iesvs name to suffer in each place.
O three-times happie man vvhom Iesvs chose!
For Iesvs royall name to suffer vvoes.
others praise him for his vvritings sake,
A title of their eminence they take,
Because proud Ievves and Gentiles he makes knovv,
The vvho disguis'd in seruants shape did goe,
VVas the Messias their Creatours Son,
VVho for transgression vvith mankinde had done,
A ransome pai'd: strong reasons he doth frame,
To shevv that nature, and the lavv are lame,
And neuer can tovvards heau'nly Sion tread,
If Iesvs grace doe not them thether lead.
But his Epistles, I aboue the rest,
Commend and saie, that they are therefore best,
Because in e'ury leafe, yea, line is found,
Of Iesvs name, the eares vvell pleasing sound.
Triumphant Martirs, are dravvne all in red,
Each hauing a Baye Garland on his head,
VVhich at the Lambes feete humblie casting dovvne,
They him acknovvledge giuer of their Crovvne.
In the first place as Captaine of the band,
Doth glorious Stephen promartir stand.
VVho vvhil'st the multitude stones at him throvves,
Prayeth to Iesvs for his cruell foes.
No spiteful Ievv, more svviftly flings a stone,
Then his loue-darts ascend to Heau'ns high Throne,
VVhere falling lovv before the seate of grace,
They humblie beg, that mercie may haue place,
And hovv they speed, vv'eele aske of furious Saule,
VVho shall hereafter be a Preaching Pavle.
Sebastian eke, shot through vvith many Dart,
Instructeth Gentlemen to plaie a part
In true-loues stage, that others fall not dovvne,
He labours, and so gets a Martyrs Crovvne.
Neere to Sebastian, seeing a voyde place,
VVee aske vvho they are shall haue so much grace,
To stand nigh Iesvs champion, and are told,
Our English Noble men, that roome shall hold.
As no goods losse, no deaths feare could them quayle,
No dangers make in Iesvs faith to fayle,
For though not equall vvith the Martyrs rovve,
Yet as stout Squires of Martyr-Knights they goe.
As vvee these Champions vievv vvith curious eye,
Amongst them vvee a Ladie doe espie,
VVhose Crovvnes proclayme, shee ruled sundry lands,
But historie complaines, of sauage hands:
The Armes of Scotland, and French Lilies teach,
That o're these Kingdomes her commaund did reach.
VVritten in bloudie Characters vvee read,
(Heauens vveepe, vvhilst I recount so foule a deed)
That shee, vvhose head vvee see on this sad stage,
From body cut, to satisfie the rage
Of barb'rous foes; vvhilst shee did liue had been,
Francis of France his vvife, and Scotlands Queene.
And though her stile of Majestie vvas such,
Yet prophane hands, durst Gods anoynted touch,
As if no sacred Oyle had bene shed,
By holy Prelate on her Princely head,
Vnto the Scaffold brought, (ô cruell deed!)
By the sharpe Axes blovv, shee there doth bleed,
Heau'ns did yee shine, vvas there a vvicked Sun
To lend a daie, vvhil'st such a deed vvas done?
Surely all things as rul'd by a nevv force,
Did goe retrogradate to Natures course.
And as vvhen Man, Iehouah did offend,
The vniuers for Mans offence did end
Againe so many Lavves in one foule fact,
Being infring'de in pennance of the Act,
All things are taught to goe an other vvaie,
In the accustom'd order nought doth staie.
The pious Spartans euermore deni'de,
In battaile Theopompus to haue di'de,
They thought though millions of meane persons die,
Yet death durst not approach great Monarchs nigh.
And deem'd his Kingly Majestie a sheild,
Able to saue his life in bloudie field;
And can it bee a person of such state,
Amongst her friends, should finde so hard a fate?
Tiberius fearefull of his after fame,
Hated Historians vvho vvould blase his name.
And teach posteritie in this, and this,
Tiberius vvhil'st he liu'd did doe amisse.
That yeare vvhen this vvas done (ye learned Men)
Forget to handle an Historians Pen.
Doe not instruct the vvorld that England durst,
Performe a Deed, of all bad Deeds the vvorst.
Not, but I read that Monarchs haue bene kil'd,
And the Majestike blood vnjustly spil'd
But still the Murderers haue carefull been,
That such impietie should not be seen,
VVhen vvee in Counsell sit, and in cold bloud
Deliberate, as if the Act vvere good.
The sentence giu'n, vvee justifie the fact,
By publike execution of the Act.
But vvhats the cause for vvhich they shed her bloud?
This one for-sooth, because shee vvas so good;
And the vvorld knevv, vvhat right shee had to raigne,
These are the reasons, vvherefore shee vvas slaine.
Should Herod knovv, that Iesvs is Gods Son,
VVould hee doe lesse thinke you then he hath done?
Curst be ambition, vvhich vvill knovv no lavves,
Curst be suspition in a Kingdomes cause.
But as proud Iades shall trample vvith their feet,
Good Seruius carcase, in the vvicked street;
And Tullia hasting to set on her head,
Romes Diadem on Fathers corps dares tread:
VVee vvill not vvonder vvhen for Kingdomes crovvne
VVee see the Lavves of God and Man cast dovvne.
That vvaters doe not ouer-vvhelme our land,
And Neptune svvim, vvhere Englands Ile doth stand,
That yet no greater vengeance hath bene seene:
VV'eele thanke thy prayers, vntimely butcher'd Queene.
Shall vvee vvith teares bedevv thy Royall Hearse,
Blame the too-hastie fates vvith mournefull verse.
The Sisters aske, hovv they durst vse a Knife
So soone to cut thy golden thread of life?
VVee vvould doe thus, but that faith makes vs knovv,
Glories rich Crovvne, vvas giu'n thee by that blovv
VVhich tooke thy life avvaie; so Ammons pride,
Prepares a horse, for Mordechee to ride.
Our teares vvhich els should alvvaies flovv, are done,
VVhen vve behold our Iames, thy glorious Son,
VVho as just Noah amongst mortalls best,
Shall giue our sorrovves end, our labours rest.
His Parent Lamech did of him fore-tell,
That in his blessed time, things should goe well.
Renovvned Prince, so vse thy Royall Pen,
That vve may place thee 'mongst these learned Men:
Our Churches Doctors, vvho next Martirs stand,
A siluer Pen, each hauing in his hand.
Aboue their heads, houers a holy Doue,
VVhich dictates lessons full of vvitt and loue.
If to thy Harpe vveare added one more string,
Then thou, no Svvan could more diuinely sing.
But vvee haue hope all numbers novv shall meet
To make thy Musique absolutely svveet.
Thou Delos Oracle of thy life time,
Thou Sun, thou starre of parched Afriques clime:
Our Churches Pearle, bred in thy mothers eyes,
Againe begotten by a sea of cries.
Great Avsten, shall I vvith more vvondring eye,
Behold thee vvhen thy Muse doth mount on high,
Or loue thee more vvhen thou dost creepe so lovve,
As doe thy humble Retractations shevv?
To thinke amisse is fraile-Mans common case,
To change for better, is a speciall grace.
And can vve thinke more forcible, more good,
The teares of loue, then a blest Martyrs bloud.
The Desert Citizens vveare also there,
Some cloth'd vvith leaues, others vvith shirts of hayre:
Their visages all pale, their bodies thin,
Proclayme their greatest glorie is vvithin.
Their simple out-sides giue aboundant shevves,
That they to vvorld and flesh vveare alvvaies foes,
Heere also vvee our English Edvvard knovv,
Mongst formest plac'de in the Confessors rovv.
A scepter in his hand, o'ns head a Crovvne,
Yee gentle Heau'ns, raine manie Edvvards dovvne;
VVho to our Britaine, vpright lavves may giue,
And teach their People, as they doe to liue.
Great Charles the second Hope of Northern clime,
Ordain'd by God, to blesse the present time,
Of Edvvard learne, that subjects best obey,
VVhen they see Majestrates, first doe, then saie.
Such Edicts moue Mens harts, though vvritten short,
VVhich first are practi'zd in the Princes Court
Of Edvvard learne, that only hee's a King,
VVho doth his Passions in subjection bring.
Princes Dominions, may from Parents take,
To be a Saint, virtue alone can make.
In that strange statue, vvich great Babels King,
In vision sees each lim, each part, each thing
As they grovv higher, so in goodnesse grovv,
VVhich Potentates, and greater men doth shevv,
That vnto honour should be joynd this grace,
To grovv in goodnesse, as they grovv in place.
The head vvas best of mettals, purest gold,
You the heads place, amongst your subjects hold
Be gold in loue, be better then the rest,
VVhat e're your people are, be you the best.
But it may be a Patron of thy name,
Allures thee rather, Fraunce shall giue the same.
Charles surnam'd great, for his renovvned facts,
Thou hast his name, haue thou his stile, his Acts.
Let vs behold thee vvith thy conq'uring bands,
Reuoke to Iesvs, faith reuolting landes.
VVith the fift Charles Achilles of our daies,
Beyond Alcides Pillars, Tropheies raise,
Plus vltra be thy motto, thy armes tend,
And vvhere the vvorld, there let thy Empire end.
Bee euermore victorious, euer great,
Euer obedient to Saint Peters seate.
May Romaine Prelate make our England glad,
As to thy Lyons hee shall Eagles ad,
And vvith high titles, thy braue house aduance,
As he hath done to Charlemaine of Fraunce.
Loose Matchiauels, and Atheists you mistake,
Rome vseth to giue Realmes, and Kesars make,
Not to abuse the povv'r of triple Crovvne,
By foule injustice, casting Princes dovvne.
By Romes authoritie, Otho the great,
In Germanie did fixe the Empires seate.
Henrie Aniou, Plantaginet his childe,
By Adrians gift, is Lord of Ireland stild'e.
Thy royall Ancestors, vvhat better name,
Then Faiths defender haue? vvho gaue the same?
The Cath'like title, vvhat a splendor brings,
To the stil Conquering Hesperian Kings?
So Capets race of Christian stile more brags,
Then of the Lilies, in their royall flags.
Faiths champion, Christian Catholike, these three,
Most glorious titles be combind'e in thee.
Besides my vvishes, O that I could giue,
Then thou there should no greater Monarke liue.
Momus found fault (and I vvould take his part,
VVeart not against my God) that each mans hart,
Had not a vvindovve, that the vvorld might see,
VVhat realties therein inuolued bee.
Then the slie hypocrite durst not speake faire,
VVhen from smooth vvords, his thoughts dissenting are.
Your Courtly Gallant, durst not your hands kisse,
VVhen in his hart, all rancour lodged is.
False Iudas durst not to his Maister bovv,
VVith apish complements, protest, svveare, vovv,
Heape on him blessings, vvish a vvorld of good,
VVhen in his purse, the price is of his blood.
Heere I could vvish my breast vvere made of glasse,
That so thy Royall sight (great Prince) might passe,
Into my soule, and see that I vvould doe
As I doe vvish, had I a povv'r thereto.
But Iesvs loue (I hope) hath made me poore,
And hauing vvished, I can doe no more.
Beseleel Virgins carues of Iu'rie bone,
Of such King Salomon did make his throne
An Eliphant, then vvhich no beast doth liue
More temperate, more vvise, his tooth doth giue:
If in Elections vvisdome hath chiefe place,
By Virgins choise, vvee'le censure of their grace.
They need not enuie Pharoes daughters lot,
VVho for their Spouse, Gods vvisest Son haue got.
VVho can sufficiently describe hovv chast
These are, vvho as terrestiall Angels pla'st
In our lovve Heau'n through contemplation see
All things in Earth contemptible to be;
In God they doe behold, as in a glasse,
Hovv all delights doe like a shadovv passe:
Shadovvs leaue nought behind: th' are black, th' are fowle
Pleasures of flesh, hovv blacke make they the sovvle?
They in one instant end, in one begin,
Behind them nothing leaue, but guilt of sin.
And tell me vvhat is sin? nothing at all.
VVhat e're is extant in the ample Ball
Of this large vvorld, God made, and God vvas glad,
That by his making hand it being had,
Only thou misbegotten Monster sin,
As Bastards vse to doe, cam'st stealing in,
Ashamed of thy birth: God neuer put
Least finger to thy being; Hell vvas shut,
Thou vvert the Key to open it: Day-light
Thy birth did turne into eternall night.
Curst be thy birth-daie, neuer it appeare,
Nor be it reco'nd 'mongst daies of the yeare:
Like Atreus feasts, doe thou Apollo scarre,
Abhorring thee, let him turne backe his Carre.
Thy hate make Titan hide himselfe, and staie,
T'vvixt Thetis armes, more then his vvonted daie.
Be thou expected, and as thou dost fayle,
Of them be cursed, vvho doe chase the VVhale.
Let Starres that daie borrovv no light of Sun,
And the sad Moone forget her course to run.
The vniuerse be on that blacke daie sad,
That thou vve'rt borne, let only Hell be glad.
O that our Curses, vvhich on thee doe lite,
Could turne thee to a sempiternall night.
VVee vvill be angrie vvith thee vvretched Eve,
The mother of this Childe, thou did'st conciue,
The Monstrous Bastard, Satan vvas his sire,
But yee adult'rous couple doe conspire,
And vvith such slights contriue the matter, that
Adam must Father, the mis-gotten brat.
Fond vvoman, God made thee of the Mans bone,
To helpe him that he should not be alone:
This vvas your end, and you performe it vvell,
You helpe him; but in vvhat? to goe to Hell.
No sooner vveare you made, but you must vvalke,
To recreat your selfe, and enter talke.
VVith Satan: vvhen your bellies full of chat,
You cast your eyes, novv on this fruit, novv that:
The Diuell by the vvan dring of your eye,
That your teeth vvater, presently doth spie,
And vvith much kindnes doth an Apple pare,
Praies you to taste it, and to giue a share
To your Good-man (for so good manners vvill)
It vvill suffice yea both to eat your fill.
O foolish Man! VVhat dost thou meane? that bit
Hath many poysons, many Hels in it.
Trust not the lookes, although it please the Eye:
Millions of Miseries, in it doe lye.
Trust not thy Palate, though it doe tast vvell,
It vvill not be digested, but in Hell.
Hee scarse doth eat it, vvhen infernall Gates,
VVith violence flye open, iron grates
Of Hell are burst, anxieties, cares, feares,
Sorrovv vvith all her vveeping Children, teares:
Suspition, jealousie, lavvles desire:
Vnbridled lust: pretentions to aspire,
Fond joyes, sad discontent at present state,
Auersion from good, anger, enuie, hate,
Darknesse of mind, peruersitie of vvill,
And vvhat in both, can be suspected ill:
These Monsters, vvith their pale Commander Death,
(Kept hetherto as Prisoners beneath,
And neuer should haue seene the light of Sun)
Hearing vvhat Man against his God hath done,
Scorne longer to obey grimme Plutoes Lavves,
But they vvill forth, and vindicate Gods cause.
VVhat hauock amongst Rebels doe they make,
Hovv many soules send dovvne to stygian lake?
By the effects judge Adam of thy fault,
These mischiefes are the purchase thou hast bought,
Corruption is the house, the land large vvoes,
In vvhich though vvith teares vvat'red, no good grovves
At hovver of death, making thy latest vvill,
Thou vs bequeth'st this legacie of ill:
And for Executor Satan doest trust,
VVho though a Banckrupt, yet in this is just,
And takes such care, that joyntlie vvith our breath,
VVee doe receaue thy legacie of death.
Hence doe proceed, if vvee reuolue out fate,
The vvoes vvhich follovv Mans accursed state.
Hence those afflictions that attend our vvaies,
Those sad Catastroph's of our vvretched daies.
Hence that vnequall share of joyes and paine,
A dropp of pleasure, but of vvoe a maine.
O hadst thou lou'd God more! Eve not so vvell,
Thou vvould'st haue left vs heires of Heau'n, not Hell.
VVee see vvhen substances doe passe avvaie
The emptie shaddovves, can no longer staie.
But thou like to the Moth dost liue, foule sin
Hauing destroy'd the soule, thou vveart borne in
Pleasures, vvhose shade thou art, long since are past,
VVhen thy foule making Essence still doth last.
Hence vgly Monster, vvhy staiest thou behind,
To be the Hang-man of the spotted mind?
To Naamans leprosie art thou a kin,
And must still sticke to the defiled skin?
Vnlesse vvith floudes of teares so oft as he
In Iordans Riuer vvas, thou clensed be.
Great God bring all men to the sacred floud,
All Nations be baptiz'd in Iesvs bloud.
In the first age, vvhen vvorld did nevv begin,
VVith many raines thou did'st drovvne Man and sin
Againe vnto the vvatry flouds giue scope,
Againe the Cataracts of Heau'n set ope.
VVee not of Abana and Pharphar dreame,
VVee must bee curd'e in onely Iordans streame.
Blest streame vvhich from thy mercies head doth rise
And thence descending runneth through our eies:
VVaters beginning from earthes slimie vaines,
Not able are to purifie our staines.
Such are those teares, vvhich from Hels feare do grovv,
Such are those teares, vvhich from selfe-loue do flow.
The raine vvhich this detested elfe must drovvne,
Must from aboue, must from high heau'n come dovvne.
VVherefore salt-teares, for sin send dovvne apace,
(O happie dying in such streames of grace.)
A sea of griefe in eu'ry place abound:
And in the vvaues let vgly sin be drovvn'd.
Each one of vs a sinners title beares,
Let vs be Magdalens in shedding teares.
Of Hesebon, large Fish-pondes be our eyes:
The vvaters vvofull plaintes, the fish sad cries.
VVhat doest thou meane my Muse, vvhy gadst thou so?
Recall thy selfe, and let the Monster goe:
A better object shall delight thy eyes,
Behold Pulcheria, the faire, the vvise,
Of vvhom to rule, shall Theodosius learne,
And vvhen he dyes, leaue her his Empires stearne.
Had Aristotle liued in her Court,
Hee vvould haue deem'd, his pollicies to short.
Had hee beheld the actions of her life,
Her sexe should haue resembled Delphos knife.
VVhilst shee vvho did vvith such a grace obaye,
Shall ample Scepters, vvith like justice svvaye,
Hovv much to her our Christian vvorld doth ovve,
Let Fathers gath'red by great Leo shovve,
Shee doth on necke of proud Nestorius tread,
And vvith his foyle bruiseth the Serpents head.
All actes of vvorthie vveomen counted be,
None for the Church hath done so much as shee.
I heare you saie, vvas her desert so much,
VVhy then as if there neuer had bene such,
The vvorld so litle heareth of her name,
No publike meetings solemnize her fame?
Shall I imagine Easterne Empires losse,
Hath added to our Christian vveale this crosse,
Or thinke our God vnto some latter daies,
The solemne honors of his Sainte delaies.
Meane time I vvish such vertue to my Quill,
That vvith her praise, I might all Countries fill.
And teach the vvorld that in Pulcheria stood
Tvvo rarely meeting graces, Great and Good:
Tvvo other opposites vveare likevvise freinds,
VVhilst priuate thoughts did ayme at publike ends.
But since (great Queene) my forces are to vveake,
A better vvorke-man shall thy glorie speake,
And vvith a Pencill rul'de by heau'nly Arte,
Delineate diuers Pictures, as thou vvearte:
VVhich vvhen they are presented to our sight,
VVee'le forth-vvith saie, here is Pulcheria right.
Faire Austria seat of greatnesse, honors tree,
VVhose brauncesh through the vvorld dilated bee,
VVhat Land; vvhat Kingdome doth not make great suite
To haue a plant deriued from thy roote?
Shall I an ample Roll of Cæsars shovv,
Or for great Monarkes to Hesperia goe?
Shall I recount hovv Hungarie and Beme
Haue gouern'd bene, and kept good by this stem?
Or shall I thinke Bauarias Duke so good,
Because his vaines doe flovv vvith Avstrian bloud?
In large descentes of this illustrious line
Hovv many rare Pulcherias doe shine?
Shall vvee of Margarets and Maries tell,
In vvhom Pulcherias many virtues dvvell?
The vvhich vvhen vve in vaine begin to count,
Vvee'le judge hovv much the patterne did surmount.
Cornelia (Mother of that vvorthie paire,
VVhose fates vnvvorthie of their virtues vveare)
Thou scorn'st to haue a Crovvne come on thy head,
VVhich must be bought vvith Ptolomeus bed,
Iudging more honour in thy vviddovvs state,
Then to be stil'd the King of Ægypts mate:
Though in thy Noble sons consists thy grace,
Yet giue vnto our Austrian Ladies place:
Of vvhom hovv many Scepters shall refuse,
And for a Husband svveetest Iesvs choose?
And those vvhom Heau'ns vvill haue a Pæan sing,
At Hymens tryumphs, shall great Rodulphs bring,
VVho vvith a bended knee and vvarlike hand,
Shall add nevv Kingdomes to their natiue land.
But shall the vvorld be vvarm'd by Austrias son,
And to our Britaine shall no good be done?
Must vvee be ouer-past, as if vvee stood
Vnder the Arctike Pole, vvhere comes no good?
Yee gentle heau'ns forbid, novv is the time,
VVhen Austria shall giue our Northerne Clime
A Marie, vvho like the fourth Edvvards heire,
In vvhom combin'd the diff'rent Roses vveare,
Shall make vvars Trumpet euermore to cease;
And blesse our England vvith eternall peace.
Impious Hostilitie shall end: no more
Shall Christian blades be sheat'hd in Christian gore,
But Spaine and Albion joyn'd 'gainst Iesvs foe,
In Ievvrie land the bloudie Crosse shall shoe,
And once againe recou'ring Salems tovvne,
From top of Mesquites cast their halfe moones dovvne.
Take courage mightie Princesse at thy birth,
The Heau'ns vnto the Vniuersall Earth,
Did promise many blessings: thou art shee,
In vvhom the vvorld Irenes times shall see:
Againe, Iconoclasts shall leaue their sect,
And curse to Hell, their impious neglect
Of these faire Pictures, better taught to knovv,
That adoration doth further goe
Then the bare Image; vvhich of vvood or stone,
The vvorkman frames, and in it life hath none.
Vnapt, to vvhom vvee should our Acts direct,
Abstracting from all relatiue respect.
But vvhen to Images vvee honour giue,
Gods Saints are honour'd, vvho vvith him do liue,
So vvhen each knee to name of Iesvs bends.
To Iesvs glorious selfe, the honour tends.
In euery corner Marathonia meetes.
As he beholds painted vpon each vvall,
The Persians conque'rd by Athenians fall.
He sees Miltiades, vvith plumie crest,
Like Thracian Mauors, animate the rest.
VVhose diuine virtue in that bloudie feild,
Made numberlesse to a small number yeild.
First hee's astonish't, casting then his eyes
Backe to his youth, and vvanton daies, he cries.
At last he speakes: O vvould I had no sight!
That I might not behold Marathons fight?
VVould I vveare deafe, that I might no more heare
Of Trophies vvhich Miltiades did reare
In Marathonian feildes. The children sing,
The verie vvales Miltiades doe ring.
In eu'rie place sound Ecchoes of his fame,
VVhilst I lie buried in the grane of shame.
But ah! let mee more ponder, and not crie,
VVhat vvas this Man so honour'd, more then I?
Had not Miltiades (in each place nam'de)
A bodie of the selfe-same substance framde.
VVith my claie Carcase: haue not I a share,
As-vvell as he, in a Cælestiall ayre?
This soule vvhich in my house of durt doth dvvell,
Doth æquall his; that it doth not so vvell
Performe her functions, I my selfe must blame;
VVho so vvith svveets, effeminate the same.
Had hee as I, in Tauerns spent his daies,
The vvorld had bene noe Eccho of his praise.
Had he as I bene daily drovvn'de in vvine,
His statues had no other bene then mine.
His statues vvhich are objects of my eies,
His statues vvhich are causes of these cries.
Let me be good, and valiant as hee,
The vvorld vvill statues consecrate to mee,
As it hath done to him: heere, heere shall stand,
My follies period, vvith a drunkards hand,
I'le vvrite no more an ignominious booke,
VVherein the after-times my shame shall looke.
But vvith Heroike deedes, and vveapons dinte,
My name on front of Athens foes i'le print.
There, there, the vvorld, vvhi'lst lasteth the worlds frame
In glorious Characters shall read my name.
You my youths deities, I bid adievv,
I meane no more to sacrifice to you:
For drunken Bacchus cups I'le vse the speare,
For Venus fauours in my helme I'le vveare
Deaths grizly face. I'le goe the vvorld about,
But I vvill finde a nevv Marathon out.
(Novv is conceiu'd a Salaminian fight,
So much mooues virtue, virtues painted sight.)
The hauty Caivs Cæsar, cannot sleepe,
Nay Alexanders statue makes him vveepe.
Quoth he (and sighs) at my yeares Philips son,
Conq'uerd the vvorld: and (beast) vvhat haue I done?
Shall I at home alvvaies ignobly rest,
And like a babe sucke milke at my Mam's breast,
No no, as he my Monuments of fame,
I'le raise: or die in persuite of a name.
His son the Portratures of vvorthy Knights,
Sets in his Pallace, that their very sights,
May moue himselfe, and the succeeding Kings,
To the attempting of heroicke things.
As I behold my Iesvs on the Rood,
VVith armes extended, shed his pretious bloud:
Hovv am I moou'd? and vvhen I knovv for me,
My God vvas nayled thus vpon a tree.
Doth he not Preach, although he make no noyse?
(His only Picture is a Preaching voice.)
The Sermon thus beginnes: behold Gods Son
Hath so much suff'red, and hath so much done
For thy soules health, that thou shouldst enter in
Heau'ns gates, and freed be from hell and sin.
That thou eternally shouldst vvith mee raigne:
I for thy sins, am as a victime slaine.
This Picture represents vnto thy sight,
My loue to thee in Golgoth's bloudie fight:
VVhere although in the battaile I did die,
Yet made I sin vvith death and hell to flie.
VVeare thou the spoiles of that tryumphant daie,
(The spoyles are grace, and glories Crovvne for aye.)
As I this vvofull spectacle doe vievv,
VVhat actes must follovv, vvhat affects ensue?
Doe not I Iesvs loue, vvho shed his bloud,
To take avvaie the lets vvhich 'gainst mee stood.
In my pretension to the promist land,
And di'de to abrogate that vvriting hand,
Of Gods decree (and should haue had its course,
Had not great Iesvs disannull'd his force)
Doe I not vveep? yes, yes, not cruell Ievves,
But my transgressions Iesvs did misuse.
I, I, vyld vvretch, vvith vvickednesse and sin,
His temples crovvn'd; and vvith faults tore his skin.
As I see Iesvs oft faint in the vvaie,
And Cyrenevs helpe him, I thus saie,
No vvonder that our Iesvs cannot goe,
The vveight of my transgressions load him soe.
Shall I not sin detest vvhen Gods sole son,
Sin only to destroie so much hath done:
And knovv hovv hatefull sin is in Gods eyes,
VVhen to appease him no Host can suffice,
No victime make him his dravvne vveapon sheath,
But his Sons sacrifice, and Isaacs death.
Iulian deface that Portraiture vvhich shee
Erects, vvhom Iesvs from the fluxe set free,
That so the memorie might alvvaies stand,
Of benefit receiu'd by Iesvs hand:
At foote against Iconoclasts shall preach
An herbes rare virtue, vvho vvhen it shall reach
To Iesvs garments hemme, Iesvs shall daine,
VVith virtue of it to cure eu'rie paine.
Cast dovvne this statue (renegate) and so,
In Iesvs picture shevv thy selfe his foe.
And vvhen thou hast it broken in disgrace,
Erect thine ovvne foule Picture in its place.
That from heau'n comming dovvne a firie blast,
May burne thy Portrature, and to earth cast.
Shall vvee haue Iulians in our vvretched age,
Shevv against Iesvs Crucifixe their rage?
These Pictures vvhich in such fayre order stand,
Must they be vvith a sacrilegious hand
Cast out our Church? Shall Gentle-men no more,
Behold Sebastian shed his manly goare,
For Iesvs cause? and vvith the Martyrs sight,
Be animated manfully to fight.
For Iesvs faith? shall they not Alban see.
Beheaded by sterne Emperours decree,
For hiding in his house, 'gainst Kesars lavves,
Iehouas Priest? and making here a pause.
Incourage thus themselues, this is our case,
Vilde Pursiuants haue Iesvs Priests in chase:
VVe vvill them intertaine, and if vvee die.
VVith vvinges of blest eternitie vveele flie
To highest heau'n, and there vvith Alban raigne,
VVho for like cause, vvith Alban haue bene slaine
Had thy great house (faire Esther) bene so good,
If Leopoldus had not pictur'd stood?
Telling his Nephevves ti's a Princes grace,
To be as high in Sanctitie as place.
Each virtue in a Monarkes brest must dvvell,
He must as Savl the multitude excell.
By shoulders then the rest, he must be higher,
Carried aloft vvith a Cælestiall fier.
Take Pictures hence, vvhere is the idiots booke?
Our Faiths deepe Mysteries therein to looke.
In Images, the vn-taught svvaine shall read,
That Christ for him is borne, for him doth bleed.
Hee shall as he sees Iesvs borne so poore,
Conceiue that pouertie in it hath more,
Then the vvorld thinkes; affection shall him make.
Loue the svveete babe, borne poorely for his sake.
VVhen Ianus double fac'de the nevv yeare brings,
Hee shall behold the off'rings of the Kings:
And learne those Kings vvho offer presents, are
First fruits of Gentiles, guided by a starre.
If God vvould not haue holy Pictures stand,
To grace his Church; vvhy vvas the cut off hand
Of Damascene restor'd by Maries praire?
VVhose Pictures in his bookes defended are.
If vvorshipping of Images be nought,
I'le taxe thee (Angels Empresse) vvith a fault.
VVhy didst thou giue him his hand backe againe,
VVho Images Relligion did sustaine?
Can such a one finde fauour in thy sight,
VVho for Idolatries defence doth vvrite?
If vvorshipping of Images be ill,
Heau'ns Queene, let me aske thee vvhy dost thou fill
The vvorld vvith miracles, and no vvhere more,
Then vvhere thy statues Catholikes adore?
Had not (vouchsafe to ansvveare mightie Queene)
Ægyptian Marie thy faire picture seene.
And praid before it, should not her blest soule,
Haue still remained, as a Blacke-more foule?
From Iesvs Mother, i'le goe to her son,
And humbly aske of him vvhat he hath done,
As he the Messenger made backe to beare,
His holy picture to Edessas Pere:
As he vvith Virtue vvonderfull did place
In Berenices hand-kercher his face.
Each follovving age vvill reuerence the same,
And he for superstition must haue blame.
Pictures, he saith are good, but they are nought,
VVho haue their goodnesse into question brought.
Shall not our English Queenes see Helen make
A holy journey for deuotion sake
To Salem tovvne? vvhere miracles forth-bring,
The scepter of our vvith-thornes Crovvned King.
(As on King Salomon the daughters stand
Of Sion gazing this vvas in his hand.)
This scepter long time hid in holy ground,
Is by deuotion of this Empresse found.
Part of it she vnto Byzantium brings,
(So much that age did esteeme holy things)
Part vnto Rome, vvhere pietie doth build
Marmorean Temples, and deuotion yeild
Iust honours to those Reliques, vvhich did beare
Iesvs, as hee o're hell did Tropheies reare.
Doth not this Queene of those foure nayles make much,
VVho holied vveare by Iesvs bodies touch?
In her Sons Diadem she placeth one,
(VVhich giues more grace, then any Iaspar stone.
And teacheth Constantine although he raine,
That hee's his substitute vvhom Nayles did paine)
Tvvo shee doth in his bridle raines inclose,
To keepe him safe from menaces of foes.
As Ivstine on his head these raines vvill vveare,
The Feindes of Hell him dare not once come neare.
Hell as yet mindfull of Caluaria sight.
Is daunted vvith these reliques only sight.
VVho hath not hard of angrie Adrias vvaues,
VVhere millions of ships haue found their graues?
But novv that passage shall no more be so,
For Helen the fourth nayle vvill in it throe,
And hee vvho vvith his death made all things eu'n,
Firming a lasting peace t'vvixt earth and heau'n,
VVill giue the sanctifyed Nayle a force
To make the billovves leaue their vvonted course.
Neptune appeaseth euery troubled vvaue,
(So great a virtue holy Reliques haue: )
On euery vvall vvhy should not Ladies see?
Such stories and by them instructed be?
VVhat vveare the actions of renovvned Dames
In antient times, vvhere-vvith they made their names
In catologue of Saints to be enro'lde:
And by Fames trumpe in after-times extold.
VVhy should not euery vvall and corner Preach
And vvhat religion Helen vvas of teach?
Oh vvicked daies of ours! vvhen Danaes rape.
And naked Goddesses immodest shape,
As for an Apple they contention had,
To be descided by the Phrygian lad:
VVhen vvorkes of Aretines lasciuious hand,
Shall curiously in chambers painted stand.
Casting lust darts through vvindovves of the eie,
And vvith luxurious thoughts make the soule die.
But Images of Christ, his Mother, Saints,
VVhom pietie and true deuotion paintes,
VVith sacrilegious hand shall be defa'st,
In peeces broake, and out of Churches cast.
In darkest shades let Manes euer bide,
And his tvvo impious sons on either side,
VVho vvorship due to Reliques first did blame,
And pietie fond superstition name.
Let them make Hell resound vvith vvofull plaints,
For their impietie 'gainst God and Saints.
It is enough that Infidels and Ievves,
VVho Gods and his Saints Images abuse.
Doe euerlasting pennance for their fault,
But let our Christian vvorld be better taught.
Let none vvho in our common vvealth doe dvvell,
For such impietie goe dovvne to Hel.
Let all vvho are vvasht in great Iesvs name,
VVith bended knee humblie adore the same.
Let all vvho Iesvs, and his friends affect,
The Tabernacles of his Saincts respect.
Surely blest Nymph errours detested night
Thy happie times shall turne to faire daie light,
Thy Hymenæan Torches are the Sun,
By vvhich this good to Britaine shall be done.
For Gods Eternall vvisdome by vvhose hand,
The vvorld is gouern'd as it first did stand,
By a proportion'd meanes vvill bring to passe,
VVhat but in vaine by force attempted vvas.
VVee joye to read as sacred stories count,
That Clodoue vvas to the holy Font,
By his Clotilda brought: the Lombards King,
Doth Ledolinda to the true faith bring,
Thy Auncestors the Gothes are likevvise seene,
Reuok'd from Errors by their pious Queene.
VVho vvounded vveare by great Achilles speare,
By the same vveapon to be cured vveare.
Against a Scipio vvho vvas Cæsars foe.
In Cæsars armie doth a Scipio goe.
VVhen as Melania by her blinde guide taught,
Errors of Origen to great Rome brought,
VVhere-vvith opinion of an holy name,
Shee and Ruffinus did dilate the same.
As Debora did not Marcella rise,
And make the erring. Romaines ope their eies?
Made shee not Barach to stretch out his hand,
And put to flight the nevv-sprung errors bands?
The Lyons vvhelpe of Iuda shall oppose
His force against that Lyons force, vvho goes
About the vvorld, seeking each vvhere to eate
(The soules of men are this fierce Lyons meate.)
In Edens Garden the curs'd tree did grovv,
VVhose fruit vvas death, leaues sicknesse, branches vvoe:
In top of Golgotha must spring a tree,
VVhich from these miseries shall set vs free.
Anne vvas the Eve vvhich gaue vs our deaths vvound,
Marie the vvoman is, shall make vs sound.
A lavvlesse Mariage England did vndoe,
Thy vvish't for Mariage England shall renue.
Against their King (vvhen Absalon vvas slaine)
Rebellious Seba moues the Tribes againe;
But a vvise vvoman in Abela tovvne,
Doth Sebas head from Cittie vvalles cast dovvne,
And by the death of a seditious Knaue,
From Ioabs furie doth her people saue.
Shall vvee be troubled vvith eternall jarres,
VVill no Alcides giue end to the vvarrs,
And Hollands many headed Hydra kill,
VVhich doth vvith tumults our North-climate fill?
This Monster hath a Cockatrices breath,
Threatning to Monarkes, and all Kingdomes death:
No Dions novv, no Brvti liue againe,
Detesting lavvlesse tyrannie should raigne;
But Athens thirtie tyrants, and Romes ten
VVill change a Monarchy for diuerse men.
Religion is too poore a Maske to hide,
Their Treason that it should not be espide.
The vvorld be taught that breach of Faith to Kings,
First Heresie, then Atheisme, then Hell brings,
VVho doe contemne the Church their Mothers lore,
VVill at the last acknovvledge Christ no more;
And vvee haue seene them count it a small losse,
For Turkish Moones to change the Christian Crosse
vvorthy Countrie-men, vvhy are you slaues
To Brevvers, Coblers, Basket-making Knaues?
VVhy doe you voluntarie your selues thrust
To patronize a cause as Hell vn-just?
You ansvvere that you part of Holland take,
For the Lords vvord, and for his Gospell sake.
The Gospell saies, let Cæsar haue his due,
Hovv for the Gospell fight you then, thinke you?
Thieues their Kings rob, and you against all lavv,
That thieues may keep stolne goods, your vveapons draw
But if you nearer to their Gospell looke,
Youle finde it is a Matchiuilian booke:
VVherein each leafe containeth damned things,
Conspiracies, and treasons against Kings.
Sovving sedition amongst other men,
That they may sleepe safe in their Cacus den.
Let vvarres destroie France, Germanie, and Beme,
VVhat doe they care, so vvarres be far from them?
VVhat Gospel can they haue, vvhere Turks, vvhere Ievvs
Their Synagogues, and prophane Mesquits vse?
Is not their Amsterdam the drugs, the fex,
The sinke of all impuritie and sects?
Could Hannibal more sundrie nations tell,
Then sects contrarie in that Babell dvvell?
But that no matter is, Ievv Atheist, Turke,
So he defie the Pope, is of their Kirke.
Moreouer can rebellions cause be just,
VVhen thieues true Lords out of possession thrust?
VVhat if a D'Alua bore a heauie hand,
Must they forth-vvith vp in rebellion band
Against their King, and take from him his ovvne:
If so: vvhat Prince can sit safe in his throne?
Lets praie that Princes may doe vvhat is right,
And not vvith trait'rous armes against them fight.
But you doe not examine much their cause,
Their friendship you into the action dravves.
VVhy should you take such tyrants for your freinds,
VVho affect none but for their priuare ends?
Let Massacres in remote Indies shevv,
If Holland be our Englands friend or no.
Oh that our Seas could speake: vve soone should heare
VVhat good-vvill Hollanders to England beare:
Let jestes, let scoffes, let mockes at King, and state
Make knovvne their litle loue, if not great hate
To Prince and vs: as helpes haue bene deni'de,
To backe their Heresie, their theft, their pride.
Ill-nurturde svvaines, not taught vvhat is a King,
A God on earth, a Consecrated thing.
David laments, that he cut his Kings coate,
VVhen these vvith open mouth, vvith open throate,
Gods Vice-roies bite, their royall actions blame,
VVith frumpes, vvith quips Monarchs expose to shame.
Let base Typhæus brood, vvhose pride is such,
That they the holie ones of God dare touch
VVith slandring libels, expiate such vvrongues,
VVith losse of hands, and forfeiture of tongues.
Yea let such Caitiues for blaspheming die,
(VVho touch Kings, touch the apple of Gods eie.)
Let eu'ry Simei, eu'ry slandring Knaue,
The saucy Eupolis misfortune haue.
And here their often mention'd Tempel fayles,
T'is Satans Ghost, vvhich against Princes rayles.
VVhen the vvhole vvorld is in combustuous fire,
Subjects against their Kings each vvhere conspire:
Base-borne Abimelech his brethren kills,
Mis-gotten Mansfield Realmes vvith rapine fills.
And all these mischiefes fram'd, this vvorld of harmes
In Hollands Ætna, vvhere Cyclops make armes.
For Hells black Prince, 'gainst God himselfe to fling,
And Sions Citie to destruction bring.
Let none it contrarie to reason thinke,
That I haue temper'd some gall vvith my incke?
VVhen I doe heare base Eupolis so bold,
To rayle at Kings, my splene I cannot hold.
Though I at vices, not at persons ayme,
I affect Holland, but rebellion blame:
And let the Netherlanders once be good,
Let them cashire this their rebellious mood,
And as Religion teacheth againe bring
VVonted obedience to Hesperias King.
Reasons and thousand arguments i'le frame,
To eternise industrious Hollands name.
Meanevvhile vvill none inspir'd vvith heau'nly fire,
Fore-tel hovv Spaines great King shall sacke proud Tyre?
VVill no Ioues seed once-more in Lerna lake,
The many heads from this foule Hydra take?
No Iohn de Austria their cities vvin,
No Parma take reuolting Holland in?
No demi-god (better then other men)
Grapple vvith theiuish Cacus in his den?
(Cacus vvho hath his Father Vulcans shape,
Cacus vvho liues by Homicide and rape.)
No, no: our God vvill not haue Iury land,
Set free alone by valiant Barachs hand:
But Iabins captaine pearced in the head
By Iahels vvife, shall at her feete fall dead.
Ambitious Ammon euer looking high,
By Esters Prayers hanged aloft shall die.
Great Princesse thou art Iudith, by vvhose hands,
Proud Holofernes leader of Hells bands,
Shall vanquisht be: thou art Abelas Dame,
VVhose Nuptiall rites shall Holland Rebells tame,
Seditious Sebas head shall buy a peace,
And vvith the Tribes submission vvars shall cease.
Thou hast Pulcherias birth, her state, her face
In the attempt of great things haue her grace:
So let thy Actions crovvne thy life vvith praise,
That after-times thy Monuments may raise.
And as thy Ancestors their Nephevv Kings,
Excite to enterprise of vvorthie things;
So be thy deeds thy royall issues booke,
VVherein hovv they shall liue, they alvvaies looke.
Antiquitie doth of an Atlas count,
On his backe bearing vp Olympus mount,
Our Iesvs is vvise Atlas, by his hands,
Sion vvas built, and on his backe it standes.
Our Atlas dies, vvho shall supplie his place,
Hath he left heires of this supporting grace?
Firme-pillars of best marble compos'd all,
Beare Sion on their backes, that it not fall.
(VVho in Gods Church vvill haue a Pillars part,
Must be vvell practiz'd in the bearing art.
Hath not truths selfe his promise giu'n that those,
VVho tryumph ouer their Infernall foes,
Shall in his Church be Pillars; vvhilst no frovvne,
No Hellish violence can cast them dovvne?
VVhen vve see thee (Great Charles) vanquish each foe,
VVhich doth in battaile against virtue goe:
VVhen vvee behold in all thy actes such grace,
Shall not vvee promise thee a Pillars place?
Of Iesvs Church a Pillar thou shalt be,
VVhilest Iesvs Church shall be borne vp by thee.
VVith Hercules (vvhere Sol his steedes doth vvet)
Thou shalt thy Monuments and Columnes set,
And vvrite non vltra to the after-daies,
Forbidding all to æqualize thy praise,
VVhilest no great Monarke, nor great Monarkes Son,
Shall doe so much for Church, as thou hast done.
In first place vvrought by Iesvs cunning hand,
Most eminent doth Simon Peter stand.
To Peter next vvhilst' he supporteth all,
In Iesvs Church a Pillars place hath Pavle,
A cruell death, vvhich did tvvo vvhole daies last,
Could not firme Andrevv to the Earth dovvne cast.
Great Iames, Iohns brother, and Zebedies child,
By Herod kild, and Spains Apostle stil'd,
VVhether he vvent, and vvith victorious hand,
To Iesvs faith subu'de that noble land,
Iohn of vvhite Marble made, though his out-side
VVas gold in fyerie flames refin'd and tride.
VVas not vvhite marble his Parthenian brest?
Of Golden loue vvas not made all the rest?
Thomas eternall Monuments shall haue
Amongst the Indians, vvhere he hath his graue.
Simon, Thaddevs, Philip, holy Iames,
VVhose vvondrous virtue either knee proclaimes.
Rough Bartholmevv vvithout, though faire vvithin,
(For Iesvs name Tyrant pul'd off his skin.)
For Iphigenia Hirtacvs may frovvne,
Yea kil blest Matthevv, but not cast him dovvne.
Matthias vvhom the holy Ghost did chose,
For that place vvhich Iscariot did lose.
Sermons of Bbr'nabe vvill teach vvhat can,
Persvvasions vvhich proceed from a good man.
Of the same matter, of vvhich other men,
Th' Apostles vveare composde, yet knovv, that vvhen
Iesvs them Columnes in his Church did place:
Hee so them temp'red vvith cælestiall grace,
That mauger anie vvinde or aduerse blast,
They keepe their place, yea rather stand more fast.
The last perfection, and supremest forme,
VVas giuen them, vvhen as the vvisht-for storme
Of diuine grace, and clouen tongues of fire,
Made the roome shake, vvhere Christs friends did retire,
Before this storme, a silly vvenches frovvne,
Did cast the chiefest of the Pillars dovvne.
Cephas as to him a poore Damzell calls,
Denies his Iesvs, miserably falls:
But once confirmed by this devv of grace,
No threats, no vvhips, can make him leaue his place.
Nay hee esteemeth honours badge that shame,
VVhich he endureth for great Iesvs name.
The thundring Cannon at vvhose Eccho quake
Strong Citties, vvhilest his bullets their vvalls shake,
Before the fire shall make him vse his voice,
Is sport for children, meriment for boies:
They plaie vvith him, they roule him heare and there,
And as vpon his backe they ride, not feare.
But let once fire enflame the charged Gun,
VVho doth not quake, and from his fury run?
So haue I seene, the stoutest harts looke pale,
And as they heard his thunder, their heads vaile:
Before Gods Ghoast did Iesvs friends inspire,
Peter a Canon vvas but vvithout fire:
No maruell then though at a vvomans sound,
Hee daunted vveare, and fell dovvne to the ground.
But after God had put an holy flame,
Vnro this Canon, and discharg'de the same.
VVhat Cittie vvas there, vvhat defensiue vvall,
VVhich vvith his thunder-bolt he made not fall?
I passe hovv Anania's and his vvife,
VVith his breaths only foarce did loose their life.
Caine built a tovvne nam'de Rome, the vvals were sin,
Errour and Paganisme did liue vvithin,
Deriu'de by a long progenie from Caine,
In this same Citie did proud Nero raigne.
Iesvs decreeing in the tovvne to take,
And in it his ovvne Empires seate to make.
So beats the vvals vvith Cephas Cannon shot,
That at the last the batt'red tovvne is got.
Idolatrie and superstition flie,
A thousand errors in the Cittie die.
There Iesvs makes his seate, and there vvill raigne,
VVhilest Sun giues light, flouds run into the maine.
Tis true the last time, that this peice did roare,
Hee burst in tvvo that Iesvs hoast no more
As earst could vse him: so vvhen Spartans flie,
Epaminondvs doth Victorious die.
Did Philistims or Samson the field loose,
VVhen at his death he kil'd three thousand foes?
And vvhen in Golgotha Golias head,
By Iesvs is strucke off, is Iesvs dead,
But potent God forth-vvith the broke-peece cast,
And making sound againe in Sion plast'e
Vpon the Battlements, vvhence he hurts more
Our aduersaries, then he did before.
Petitions are the bullets, vvhich he throvves,
From vpper ground, and vvith them Kils our foes:
Comments about Iesvs Praefigvred: Or A Poem Of The Holy Name Of Iesvs. The First Booke By John Abbot by John Abbott
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You