Steps to the temple ; The delights of the Muses ; and, Carmen Deo Nostro by Ric. Crashaw ...
Crashaw, Richard, 1613?-1649., Crashaw, Richard, 1613?-1649. Delight of the Muses., Crashaw, Richard, 1613?-1649. Carmen Deo Nostro.
Page  [unnumbered]


By her Most devoted Servant RICH. CRASHAW.

In hearty acknowledgement of his immortal Obli∣gation to her Goodness and Charity.

Page  [unnumbered]Page  141


WAs Car then Crashaw, or was Crashaw Car,
Since both within one name combined are?
Yes, Car's Crashaw, he Car; 'tis Love alone
Which melts two hearts, of both composing one,
So Crashaw's still the same: so much desired
By strongest Wits; so honor'd so admired;
Car Was but He that enter'd as a friend
With whom he shar'd his thoughts, and did commend
(While yet he liv'd) this Work; they lov'd each other:
Sweet Crashaw was his friend; he Crashaws Brother:
So Car hath Title then; 'twas his intent
That what his Riches pen'd, poor Car should Print;
Nor fears he check, praising that happy one
Who was belov'd by all; disprais'd by none.
To wit, being pleas'd with all things, he pleas'd all:
Nor would he give, nor take offence; befal
What Might; he would possess himself: and live
As dead (devoid of interest) t' all might give
Disease t' his well composed mind; forestall'd
With Heavenly Riches: which had wholly call'd
Page  142 His thoughts from Earth, to live above in th' Air
A very Bird of Paradise. No care
Had he of earthly trash. What might suffice
To fit his soul to Heavenly exercise.
Sufficed him; and may we guess his hart
By what his Lips bring forth, his onely part
Is God and Godly thoughts. Leaves doubt to none
But that to whom one God is all; all's one.
What he might eat or wear he took no thought,
His needful food he rather found then sought.
He seeks no Downs, no Sheets, his Bed's still made
If he can find, a Chair or Stool, he's laid,
When day peeps in; he quits his restless rest;
And still, poor soul, before he's up he's drest.
Thus dying did he live, yet liv'd to dye
In th' Virgins Lap, to whom he did ayply
His Virgin thoughts and words, and thence was styl'd
By foes, the Chaplain of the Virgin mild
While yet he liv'd without: his Modesty
Imparted this to some, and they to me.
Live happy then, dear soul; injoy thy rest
Eternally by pains thou purchasedst,
While Car must live in Care; who was thy friend
Nor cares he how he live, so in the end,
He may injoy his dearest Lord and thee;
And sit and sing more skilful songs Eternally.


Page  143


Perswading her to Resolution in Religion, and to render her self without further delay ino the Communion of the Ca∣tholick Church.

WHat Heaven-intreated Heart is this?
Stands trembling at the Gate of Bliss;
Holds fast the door, yet dares not venture
Fairly to open it and enter,
Whose Definition is a doubt
'Twixt Life and Death, 'twixt in and out.
Page  144 Say, lingring fair! why comes the birth
Of your brave Soul so slowly forth?
Plead your pretences (O you strong
In weakness) why you choose so long
In labor of your self to lie,
Nor daring quite to live nor die:
Ah linger not, lov'd Soul! a slow
And late consent was a long no,
Who grants at last, long time try'd
And did his best to have deny'd,
What Magick bolts, what Mystick Barrs
Maintain the Will in these strange Warrs!
What fatal, what fantastick Bands,
Keep the free Heart from its own Hands!
So when the year takes cold, we see
Poor Waters their own Prisoners be,
Fetter'd, and lock d up fast they ly
In a sad self-capti•…ity▪
Th' astonisht Nymphs their floods strange fate deplore
To see themselves their own severer shore.
Thou that alone canst thaw this cold,
And fetch the Heart from its strong Hold;
Almighty Love! end this long War,
And of a Meteor make a Star.
O fix this fair Indefinite
And mongst thy shafts of Soveraign light
Choose out that sure decisive Dart
Which has the Key of this close Heart,
Knows all the corners of't, and can controul
The self-shut Cabinet of an unsearcht soul.
O let it be at last, Love s hour;
Raise this tall Trophee of thy Pow'r;
Come once the conquering way; not to confute
But kill this Rebel-word, Irresolute,
Page  145 That so, in spight of all this peevish strength
Of weakness, she may write Resolv'd at Length.
Unfold at length, unfold fair Flow'r
And use the season of Love's show'r,
Meet his well-meaning wounds, wise Heart▪
And haste to drink the wholsome Dart;
That Healing shaft, which Heav'n till now
Has in Loves Quiver hid for you,
O Dart of Love! Arrow of Light!
O happy you, if it hit right,
It must not fall in vain, it must
Not mark the dry regardless dust.
Fair one, it is your Fate▪ and brings
Eternal Words upon its Wings.
Meet it with wide-spread Arms; and see
It's seat your soul's just center be.
Disband dull fears; give faith the day,
To save your life, kill your delay;
It is Loves Siege, and sure to be
Your triumph, though his Victory.
'Tis cowardise that keeps this Field,
And want of Courage not to yield.
Yield then, O yield, that Love may win
The Fort at last, and let Life in.
Yield quickly, lest perhaps you prove
Death's prey, before the prize of Love.
This Fort of your fair self, if't be not won,
He is repulst indeed, but you'r undone.
Page  146

To the Name above every Name, the Name of JESUS, A Hymn.

I Sing the Name which none can say
But touch't with an interiour Ray;
The name of our new Peace; our Good:
Our Blisse, and supernatural Blood:
The name of all our Lives and Loves.
Hearken, and help, ye Holy Doves!
The high-born Brood of Day; you bright
Candidates of blissful Light,
The Heirs Elect of Love; whose Names belong
Unto the everlasting life of Song;
All ye wise souls; who in the wealthy Brest
Of this unbounded Name build your warm Nest.
Awake, my Glory, Soul, (if such thou be,
And that fair Word at all refer to thee)
Awake and Sing
And be all Wing;
Bring hither thy whole Self; and let me see,
What of thy Parent Heav'n yet speaks in Thee.
O thou art Poor,
Of Noble Pow'rs, I see,
And full of nothing else but empty Me,
Narrow, and low, and infinitely less
Then this great Mornings mighty business.
One little World or two
(Alas) will never do;
We must have store.
Go, Soul, out of thy self, and seek for More,
Go and request
Page  147 Great Nature for the Key of her huge Chest
Of Heav'ns, the self-involving Set of Sphears
(Which dull Mortality more feels then hears)
Then rouse the nest
Of nimble Art, and traverse round
The Airy shop of Soul-appeasing sound:
And beat a summons in the same
All-Soveraign Name.
To warn each several kind
And shape of sweetness, be they such
As sigh with supple wind
Or answer Artful touch,
That they convene and come away
To wait at the Love-Crowned Doors of that
Illustrious Day.
Shall we dare this, my Soul? we'l do't and bring
No other Note for't, but the Name we sing.
Wake Lute and Harp
And every sweet-lipp'd thing
That talks with Tuneful string;
Start into life, and leap with me
Into a hasty fit-tun'd harmony.
Nor must you think it much
T' obey my bolder touch;
I have authority in Love's Name to take you
And to the work of Love this morning wake you;
Wake; in the Name
Of Him who never sleeps, all things that are,
Or what's the same,
Are Musical;
Answer my Call
And come along;
Help me to meditate mine immortal Song.
Page  148 Come, ye soft Ministers of sweet sad mirth,
Bring all your Houshold-stuff of Heav'n on Earth;
O you, my Soul•…s most certain Wings,
Complaining Pipes, and pratling strings,
Bring all the store
Of Sweets you have; and murmur that you have no more.
Come, ne'r to part,
Nature and Art!
Come; and come strong,
To the conspiracy of our spacious song.
Bring all the Pow'rs of Praise
Your Provinces of well-united Worlds can raise;
Bring all your Lutes and Harps of Heav'n and Earth;
What e'r cooperates to the common mirth
Vessels of vocal joys,
Or you, more Noble Architects of intellectual noise,
Cymballs of Heav'n, or Humane sphears,
Solliciters of Souls or Ears;
And when you are come, with all
That you can bring or we can call;
O may you fix
For ever here, and mix
Your selves into the long
And everlasting series of a deathless Song;
Mix all your many Worlds, above,
And loose them into One of Love.
Chear thee my Heart!
For thou too hast thy part
And place in the great Throng
Of this unbounded all-imbracing Song.
Pow'rs of my Soul, be proud!
And speak loud
Page  149 To all the dear-bought Nations this Redeeming Name,
And in the wealth of one rich Word proclaim
New Similes to Nature.
May it be no wrong
Blest Heav'ns, to you, and your Superior song,
That we, dark Sons of Dust and Sorrow,
A while dare borrow
The name of your Delights and our Desires,
And fit it to so farr inferior Lyres.
Our Murmurs have their Musick too,
Ye Mighty Orbs, as well as you,
Nor yields the Noblest nest
Of warbling Seraphim to the ears of Love,
A choicer Lesson then the joyful Brest
Of a poor panting Turtle-Dove.
And we, low Worms have leave to do
The same bright business (ye third Heav'ns) with you.
Gentle Spirits, do not complain;
We will have care
To keep it fair,
And send it back to you again.
Come, lovely Name! appear from forth the bright
Regions of peaceful Light;
Look from thine own illustrious home,
Fair King of Names, and come:
Leave all thy Native Glories in their gorgeous Nest,
And give thy self a while the gracious Guest.
Of humble Souls, that seek to find
The hidden Sweets
Which man's heart meets
When thou art Master of the Mind.
Come, Lovely Name; life of our hope!
Lo we hold our Hearts wide ope!
Unlock thy Cabinet of Day
Page  150 Dearest Sweet, and come away.
Lo how the thirsty Lands
Gasp for thy golden showrs! with long stretch't hands:
Lo how the laboring Earth
That hopes to be
All Heaven by Thee,
Leaps at thy Birth.
Th' attending World, to wait thy Rise,
First turn'd to Eyes;
And then, not knowing what to do;
Turn'd them to Tears, and spent them too,
Come Royal Name; and pay th' expence
Of all this precious patience.
O come away
And kill the Death of this Delay.
O see, so many Worlds of barren years
Melted and Measur'd out in Seas of Tears.
O see the weary Lids of wakeful Hope
(Love's Eastern windows) all wide ope
With Curtains drawn,
To catch the Day-break of thy Dawn.
O dawn, at last, long-look't for day!
Take thine own wings and come away.
Lo, where aloft it comes! It comes, among
The conduct of adoring Spirits that throng
Like diligent Bees, and swarm about it.
O they are wise:
And know what Sweets are suck't from out it.
It is the Hive,
By which they thrive,
Where all their hoard of Honey lies.
Lo where it comes, upon the snowy Doves
Soft back; and brings a bosome big with Loves.
Welcome to our dark World, thou
Page  151 Womb of Day!
Unfold thy fair Conceptions; and display
The Birth of our bright joys.
O thou compacted
Body of Blessings: Spirit of Souls extracted!
O dissipate thy spicy Powr's
(Cloud of condensed sweets) and break upon us
In balmy showrs;
O fill our senses, and take from us
All force of so prophane a Fallacy
To think ought sweet but that which smells of thee.
Fair, Flowry Name; in none but thee
And thy Nectareal fragrancy,
Hourly there meets
An universal Synod of all Sweets;
By whom it is defined Thus
That no Perfume
For ever shall presume
To pass for oderiferous,
But such alone whose sacred Pedigree
Can prove it self some kin (sweet name) to Thee.
Sweet Name, in thy each Syllable
A thousand Blest Arabias dwell;
A Thousand Hills of Frankincense;
Mountains of myrrh, and Beds of Spices,
And Ten thousand Paradises.
The Soul that tasts thee takes from thence
How many unknown Worlds there are
Of Comforts, which thou hast in keeping!
How many thousand Mercies there
In Pity's soft Lap lie a sleeping!
Happy he who has the Art
To awake them,
And to take them
Home, and lodge them in his Heart,
Page  152 O that it were as it was wont to be!
When thy old friends of fire, all full of thee,
Fought against frowns with smiles; gave Glorious chase
To persecutions; and against the Face
Of Death and fiercest dangers, durst with brave
And sober pace march on to meet a Grave.
On their bold Brests about the World they bore thee
And to the Teeth of Hell stood up to teach thee,
In Center of their inmost souls they wore thee,
Where Racks and Torments striv'd in vain to reach thee.
Little, alas, thought they
Who tore the fair Brests of thy Friends,
Their Fury but made way
For thee; and serv'd them in thy Glorious ends.
What did their weapons but with wider pores
Inlarge thy flaming brested Lovers
More freely to transpire
That impatient fire
The heart that hides thee hardly covers,
What did their weapons but set wide the doors
I or thee: fair purple Doors, of Love's devising;
The Ruby windows which inrich't the East
Of thy so oft repeated Rising.
Each wound of theirs was thy new morning;
And reinthron'd thee in thy Rosy Nest,
With blush of thine own blood thy day adorning:
It was the wit of Love oreflow'd the bounds
Of Wrath, and made the way through all these wounds,
Welcome Dear, All-Adored Name!
For sure there is no Knee
That knows not thee.
Or if there be such Sons of shame,
Alas what will they do
When stubborn Rocks shall bow
Page  153 And Hills hang down their Heav'n-saluting Heads
To seek for humble Beds
Of Dust, where in the bashful shades of night
Next to their own low Nothing they may lye,
And couch before the dazeling light of thy dread
They that by Love's mild dictate now
Will not adore the,
Shall then with just Confusion, bow
And break before thee.

In the Glorious Epiphany of our Lord God, a Hymn sung as by the Three Kings.

1. KING.
BRight Babe, whose awful Beauties make
The morn incurr a sweet mistake;
For whom th' officious Heav'ns devise
To disinherit the Suns Rise,
Delicately to displace
The Day, and plant it fairer in thy Face;
O thou born King of Loves,
Of Lights,
Of Joys.
Look up. Sweet Babe, look up, and see
For love of thee
Thus far from home
The East is come
To seek her self in thy sweet Eyes.
We, who strangely went astray,
Lost in a bright
Meridian night,
A Darkness made of too much Day,
Becken'd from far
By thy fair Star,
Lo at last have found our way.
To Thee, thou Day of Night; thou East of West!
Lo we at last have found the way
To thee, the Worlds great Universal East;
The general and indifferent day.
All-circling point, All-centring sphere,
The World's One, Round, Eternal year.
Whose full and all-unwrinkled face
Nor sinks nor swells with time or place;
But every where, and every while
Is one consistent solid smile;
Not vext and tost.
'Twixt Spring and Frost,
Nor by alternate shreds of Light
Sordidly shifting hands with Shades and Night.
O little all, in thy embrace
The World lies warm, and likes his place;
Nor does his full Globe fail to be
Kist on both his Cheeks by thee:
Time is too narrow for thy year
Nor makes the whole World thy half Sphere.
To thee, to thee
From him we flee
From him, whom by a more illustrious lye,
The blindness of the World did call the Eye;
To him, who by these mortal Clouds hast made
Thy Self our Sun, though thine own Shade.
Farewel, the World's false Light;
Farewel, the white
Egypt, a long farewel to thee
Bright Idol; black Idolatry.
Page  155 The dire face of inferiour darkness, kist
And courted in the pompous Mask of a more speci∣ous Mist.
Farwell, farewell
The proud and misplac't Gates of Hell,
Perch't, in the morning's way
And double-guilded as the doors of Day;
The deep Hypocrisie of Death and Night
More desperately dark, because more bright.
Welcome, the World's sure way;
Heav'ns wholsome Ray.
Welcome to us; and we
Sweet to our selves, in thee.
The deathless Heir of all thy Fathers day;
Decently born,
Embosom'd in a much more Rosie Morn,
The Blushes of thy all-unblemish't Mother.
No more that other
Aurora shall set ope
Her Ruby Casements, or hereafter hope
From mortal Eyes
To meet Religious welcomes at her Rise.
We (pretious ones) in you have won
A gentler Morn, a juster Sun.
His superficial Beams Sun-burn't our skin;
But left within
The night and Winter still of Death and Sin.
Thy softer yet more certain Darts
Spare our Eyes, but pierce our Hearts.
Therefore with his proud Persian spoils
We court thy more concerning smiles.
Therefore with his disgrace
We guild the humble Cheek of this chast place;
And at thy Feet pour forth his Face,
The doating Nations now no more
Shall any day but thine adore.
Nor (much less) shall they leave these Eyes
For cheap Egyptian Deities.
In whatsoe'r more Sacred shape
Of Ram, He-Goat, or Reverend Ape,
Those beauteous ravishers opprest so sore
The too-hard-tempted Nations.
Never more
By wanton Heyfer shall be worn
A Garland, or a guilded Horn.
The Altar-stall'd Ox, fat Osyris now
With his fair Sister Cow,
Shall kick the Clouds no more; but lean and tame.
See his horn'd Face, and dy for shame,
And Mithra now shall be no name.
No longer shall the immodest Lust
Of adulterous Godles dust
Fly in the face of Heav'n; as if it were
The poor World's Fault that he is fair.
Nor with perverse Loves and Religious Rapes
Revenge thy Bounties in their beauteous shapes;
And punish best things worst; because they stood
Guilty of being much for them too good.
Proud sons of death that durst compel
Heav'n it self to find them Hell;
And by strange wit of madness wrest
From this World's East the other's West.
All-Idolizing worms, that thus could crowd
And urge their Sun into thy Cloud;
Forcing his sometimes eclips'd face to be
A long deliquium to the light of thee.
Alas with how much he avier shade
Page  157 The shamfac't Lamp hung down his head,
For that one Eclipse he made,
Then all those he suffered!
For this he lookt so big, and every morn
With a red face confest this scorn;
Or hiding his vext cheeks in a hir'd mist
Kept them from being so unkindly kist
It was for this the day did rise
So oft with blubber'd Eyes.
For this the Evening wept; and we ne'r knew
But call'd it Dew.
This daily wrong
Silenc't the morning Sons, and dampt their song
Nor was't our deafness, but our sins, that thus
Long made th' Harmonious orbs all mute to us.
Time has a day in store
When this so proudly poor
And self-oppressed spark, that has so long
By the love-sick World been made
Not so much their Sun as Shade,
Weary of this Glorious wrong,
From them and from himself shall flee
For shelter to the shadow of thy Tree;
Proud to have gain'd this precious loss
And chang'd his false Crown for thy Cross.
That dark day's clear doom shall define
Whose is the Master Fire, which Sun would shine▪
That sable iudgement-seat shall by new laws
Decide and settle the Great cause
Of controverted light,
And natur's wrongs rejoyce to do thee right.
That forfeiture of noon to night shall pay
All the idolatrous Thefts done by this night of day;
And the great Penitent press his own pale Lips
With an elaborate Love-eclipse
Page  158 To which the low world's Laws
Shall lend no cause
Save those domestick which he borrows
From our sins and his own sorrows.
Three sad hours sackcloth then shall show to us
His pennance, as our fault, conspicuous.
And he more needfully and nobly prove
The Nation's terror now then erst their love,
Their hated loves chang'd into wholsom fears.
The shutting of his Eye shall open theirs.
As by a fair-ey'd fallacy of day
Mis-led before they lost their way,
So shall they, by the seasonable fright
Of an unseasonable night,
Loosing it once again, stumble on true Light,
And as before his too-bright eye
Was their more blind idolatry,
So his officious blindness now shall be
Their black, but faithful perspective of thee;
His new prodigious night,
Their new and admirable light;
The supernatural Dawn of thy pure day,
While wondring they
(The happy converts now of him
Whom they compell'd before to be their sin)
Shall henceforth see
To kiss him only as their rod
Whom they so long courted as God,
And their best use of him they worship't be
To learn, of him at lest, to worship thee.
It was their Weakness woo'd his Beauty;
But it shall be
Their wisdom now, as well as duty,
Page  159 T'injoy his Blot; and as a large black Letter
Use it to spel thy Beauties Better;
And make the night it self their torch to thee.
By the oblique ambush of this close night
Couch't in that conscious shade
The right ey'd Areopagite
Shall with a vigorous guess invade
And catch thy quick reflex; and sharply see
On this dark Ground
To descant thee.
O price of the rich Spirit! with that fierce chase
Of this strong Soul, shall he
Leap at thy lofty Face,
And seize the swift flash, in rebound
From this obsequious Cloud;
Once call'd a Sun;
Till dearly thus undone,
Till thus triumphantly tam'd (O ye two
Twin-Suns!) and taught now to negotiate you.
Thus shall that reverend Child of light,
By being Scholar first of that new night,
Come forth Great Master of the mistick day;
And teach obscure Mankind a more close way
By the frugal negative Light
Of a most wise and well-abused Night,
To read more legible thine original Ray,
And make our darkness serve thy day;
Maintaining 'twixt thy World and ours
A commerce of contrary pow'rs,
A mutual Trade
'Twixt Sun and Shade,
By confederate Black and White
Borrowing Day and lending Night.
Thus we, who when with all the Noble powr's
That (at thy cost) are call'd, not vainly, ours;
We vow to make brave way
Upwards, and press on for the pure intelligential prey;
At lest to play
The amorous spies
And peep and proffer at thy sparkling Throne;
Instead of bringing in the blissful Prize
And fastning on thine Eyes,
Forfeit our own
And nothing gain
But more ambitious loss, at lest of brain;
Now by abased Lids shall learn to be
Eagles; and shut our Eyes that we may see.
The Close.
Therefore to thee and thine auspicious ray
(Dread sweet!) lo thus
At lest by us,
The delegated Eye of Day
Does first his Scepter, then himself in solemn Tri∣bute pay.
Thus he undresses
His sacred unshorn Tresses;
At thy adored Feet, thus, he lays down
His gorgeous tire
Of Flame and Fire,
His glittering Robe,
His sparkling Crown,
His Gold,
His Mirrh,
His Frankincence,
To which he now has no pretence.
For being show'd by this days light, how far
He is from Sun enough to make thy Star,
His best ambition now, is but to be
Somthing a brighter shadow (Sweet) of thee;
Page  161 Or on Heav'ns azure forehead high to stand
Thy Golden Index; with a duteous Hand
Pointing us home to our own Sun
The World's and his Hyperion.

To the Queen's Majesty on Twelfth-day.


'Mongst those long rows of Crowns that guild your
These Royal sages sue for decent place.
The day-break of the Nations; their first ray;
When the dark World dawn'd into Christian day.
And smil'd i'th Babes bright face, the purpling Bud
And Rosy dawn of the right Royal Blood;
Fair first-fruits of the Lamb; sure Kings in this;
They took a Kingdom while they gave a kiss,
But the World's Homage, scarce in these well blown,
We read in you (Rare Queen) ripe and full grown.
For from this day's rich seed of Diadems
Does rise a radiant crop of Royal stems,
A Golden Harvest of Crown'd heads, that meet
And crowd for kisses from the Lambs white feet.
In this illustrious throng, your lofty floud
Swels high, fair confluence of all highborn Bloud▪
With your bright head whose groves of Scepters bend
Their wealthy tops; and for these feet contend.
So swore the Lambs dread Sire, and so we see't,
Crowns, and the Heads they kiss must court these Feet.
Fix here fair Majesty! may your heart ne'r miss
To reap new Crowns and Kingdoms from that kiss;
Page  162 Nor may we miss the joy to meet in you
The aged honors of this day still new.
May the great time, in you, still greater be
While all the year is your Epiphany,
While your each day's Devotion duly brings
Three Kingdoms to supply this days three Kings.

The Office of the Holy Cross: For the hour of Matins.

The Versicle.
Lord, by thy sweet and saving Sign,
The Responsory.
Defend us from our Foes and Thine.
Thou shalt open my Lips, O Lord.
And my mouth shall declare thy praise.
O God make speed to save me.
O Lord make haste to help me.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.
As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end, Amen.
THe wakeful Matines haste to sing,
The unknown sorrows of our King,
The Father's Word and Wisdome, made
Man, for Man, by Man's betraid;
The world's price set to sale, and by the bold
Merchants of Death and Sin, is bought and sold;
Of his best Friends (yea of himself) forsaken,
By his worst foes (because he would) besieg'd and taken.
Page  163 The Antiphon.
All hail, fair Tree.
Whose Fruit we be.
What Song shall raise
Thy seemly praise.
Who broughtst to light
Life out of Death, Day out of night.
The Versicle.
Lo, we adore thee,
Dread Lamb! and bow thus low before thee,
The Responsor.
'Cause by the Covenant of thy Cross,
Thou hast sav'd at once the whole World's loss.
The Prayer.

O My Lord Jesu Christ, Son of the living God! interpose, I pray thee, thine own pretious death, thy Cross and Passion, betwixt my Soul and thy Judgement, now and in the hour of my death. And vouchsafe to grant me thy Grace and Mercy; to the living and dead, remission and rest; to thy Church peace and concord; to us sinners life and glory ever∣lasting. Who livest and reignest with the Father, in the Unity of the Holy Ghost, one God, world with∣out end, Amen.

Page  164

For the hour of Prime.

The Versicle.
Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign.
The Responsor.
Defend us from our foes and thine.
Thou shalt open my Lips, O Lord.
And my mouth shall declare thy praise.
O God make speed to save me.
O Lord make haste to help me.
Glory be to, &c.
As it was in, &c.
THe early Prime blushes to say
She could not rise so soon, as they
Call'd Pilate up, to try if he
Could lend them any Cruelty.
Their Hands with lashes arm'd, their Tongues with lyes,
And loathsome Spittle blot those beauteous Eyes,
The blissful springs of Joy, from whose all-chearing ray
The fair Stars fill their wakeful fires, the Sun himself drinks day.
The Antiphon.
Victorious Sign
That now dost shine,
Transcrib'd above
Into the Land of Light and Love;
O let us twine
Our Roots with thine,
Page  165 That we may rise
Upon thy Wings and reach the Skies.
The Versicle.
Lo we adore thee
Dread Lamb! and fall
Thus low before thee
The Responsor.
'Cause by the Covenant of thy Cross
Thou hast sav'd at once the whole world's loss.
The Prayer.

O My Lord Jesu Christ, Son of the living God! interpose, I pray thee, thine own pretious death, thy Cross and Passion, betwixt my Soul and thy Judge∣ment, now and in the hour of my death. And vouch∣safe to grant me thy Grace and Mercy; to the living and dead, remission and rest; to thy Church peace and concord; to us sinners, life and glory everlasting: Who livest and reignest with the Father, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, one God, world without end, Amen:

The Third.

The Versicle.
Lord, by thy sweet and saving Sign
The Responsor.
Defend us from our foes and thine.
Thou shalt open my Lips, O Lord,
And my mouth shall declare thy praise.
O God make speed to save me.
O •…ord make haste to help me.
Glory be to, &c.
As it was in the, &c.
Page  166THE HYMN.
THe Third hour's deafen'd with the cry
Of Crucify him, Crucify.
So goes the vote (nor ask them, why!)
Live Barabbas! and let God dy.
But there is wit in wrath, and they will try
A Hall more cruel then their Crucify,
For while in sport he wears a spiteful Crown,
The serious show'rs along his decent Face run sadly down.
The Antiphon.
Christ when he dy'd
Deceiv'd the Cross,
And on Death's side
Threw all the loss.
The captive World awak't, and found
The Prisoner loose, the Jaylor bound.
The Versicle.
Lo we adore thee
Dread Lamb, and fall
Thus low before thee
Tht Responsor,
'Cause by the Covenant of thy Cross
Thou hast sav'd at once the whole World's loss
The Prayer.

O My Lord Jesu Christ, Son of the living God! in∣terpose, I pray thee, thine own precious death, thy Cross and Passion, betwixt my Soul and thy Judge∣ment, now and in the hour of my death. And vouch∣safe to grant me thy Grace and Mercy; to the living and dead, remission and rest; to thy Church, peace and concord; to us sinners, life and glory everlasting, Page  167 Who livest and reignest with the Father, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, one God, world without end, Amen.


The Versicle.
Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign,
The Responsor.
Defend us from our foes and thine.
Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord,
And my mouth shall declare thy praise.
O God make speed to save me,
O Lord make haste to help me.
Glory be to, &c:
As it was in, &c.
NOw is the Noon of sorrow's night;
High in his patience as their spight.
Lo the faint Lamb, with weary Limb
Bears that huge Tree which must bear him,
That fatal Plant, so great of Fame
For fruit of sorrow and of shame,
Shall swell with both for him; and mix
All woes into one Crucifix.
Is tortur'd Thirst it self, too sweet a cup?
Gall, and more bitter mocks shall make it up.
Are Nails blunt Pens of superficial smart?
Contempt and scorn can send sure wounds to search the inmost Heart.
Page  168 The Antiphon.
O dear and sweet dispute
'Twixt death's and Love's far different Fruit!
Different as far
As Antidotes and Poisons are.
By that first fatal Tree
Both Life and Liberty
Were sold and slain;
By this they both look up, and live again.
The Versicle.
Lo we adore thee
Dread Lamb! and bow thus low before thee;
The Responsor.
'Cause by the covenant of thy Cross.
Thou hast sav'd the World from certain loss.
The Prayer.

O My Lord Jesu Christ, son of the living God! interpose, I pray thee, thine own precious death, thy Cross and Passion, betwixt my soul and thy judgement, now and in the hour of my death. And vouchsafe to grant me thy grace and mercy; to the living and dead, remission and rest; to thy church peace and concord, to us sinners, life and glory ever∣lasting. Who livest and reignest with the Father, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, one God, world with∣out end. Amen.

Page  169


The Versicle.
Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign,
The Responsor.
Defend us from our foes and thine.
Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord,
And my mouth shall declare thy praise.
O God make speed to save me,
O Lord make haste to help me
Glory be to, &c.
As it was in, &c.
THe Ninth with awful horror hark'ned to those groans
Which taught attention even to Rocks and Stones.
Hear, Father, hear! thy Lamb (at last) complains
Of some more painful thing then all his pains.
Then bows his all-obedient head, and dies
His own Lov's, and our sin's great Sacrifice.
The Sun saw that; and would have seen no more
The Center shook, her useless veil th'inglorious Tem∣ple tore.
The Antiphon.
O strange mysterious strife
Of open death and hidden life!
When on the cross my King did bleed,
Life seem'd to die, Death dy'd indeed.
The Versicle.
Lo we adore thee
Dread Lamb! and fall thus low before thee
Page  170 The Responsor.
'Cause by the covenant of thy Cross
Thou hast sav'd at once the whole world's loss.
The Prayer.

O my Lord Jesu Christ, son of the living God! interpose I pray thee, thine own pretious death, thy Cross •…d Passion, betwixt my soul and thy judge∣ment, now and in the hour of my death: and vouch∣safe to grant me thy grace and mercy; to the living and dead, remission and rest; to thy Church, peace and concord; to us sinners, life and glory everlasting: who livest and reignest with the Father, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, one God, world without end, Amen.


The Versicle.
Lord, by thy sweet and saving Sign
The Responsor.
Defend us from our foes and thine.
Thou shalt open my Lips, O Lord,
And my mouth shall declare thy praise.
O God make speed to save me.
O Lord make haste to help me.
G•…ory be to, &c.
As it was in, &c.
BUt there were Rocks would not relent at this.
Lo, for their own hearts they rend His,
Page  171 Their deadly hate lives still, and hath
A wild reserve of wanton wrath;
Superfluous Spear! but there's a Heart stands by
Will look no wounds be lost, no death shall dy,
Gather now thy grief's ripe fruit, Great Mother-maid!
Then sit: thee down▪ and sing thy Ev'n-song in the sad
Trees shade.
The Antiphon.
O sad, sweet Tree!
Woful and joyful we
Both weep and sing in shade of thee,
When the dear Nails did lock
And graft into thy gracious Stock
The hope, the health,
The worth, the wealth
Of all the ransom'd World, thou hadst the power
(In that propitious hour)
To poise each precious Limb,
And prove how light the World was when it weigh'd with Him.
Wide maist thou spred
Thine Arms; and with thy bright and blisful head
O'r look all Libanus. Thy lofty crown
The King himself is; thou his humble Throne.
Where yielding, and yet conquering he
Prov'd a new path of patient victory.
When wondring death by death was slain,
And our Captivity his Captive ta'ne.
The Versicle.
Lo we adore thee
Dread Lamb! and bow thus low before thee;
The Responsor.
Cause by the covenant of thy Cross
Thou hast sav'd the World from certain loss.
Page  172 The Prayer.
O My Lord Jesu Christ, son of the living, &c.


The Versicle.
Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign.
The Responsor.
Defend us from our foes and thine.
Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord.
And my mouth shall declare thy praise.
O God make speed to save me.
O Lord make haste to help me.
Glory be to, &c.
As it was in. &c.
THe Compline hour comes last, to call
Us to our own Live's funeral.
Ah hartless task! yet hope takes head;
And lives in him that here lies dead.
Run, Mary, run! bring hither all the Blest
Arabia, for thy Royal Phenix' nest;
Pour on thy Noblest sweets, which, when they touch
This sweeter Body, shall indeed be such,
But must thy bed, Lord, be a borrow'd Grave
Who lendst to all things all the life they have.
O rather use this Heart, thus far a fitter Stone,
'Cause, though a hard and cold one, yet it is thine own.
Page  173 The Antiphon.
O save us then
Merciful King of men!
Since thou wouldst needs be thus
A Saviour, and at such a rate, for us;
Save us, O save us, Lord.
We now will own no shorter wish, nor name a nar∣rower word,
Thy blood bids us be bold.
Thy wounds give us fair hold.
Thy sorrows chide our shame.
•…hy Cross, thy Nature, and thy Name
Advance our claim
And cry with one accord,
Save them, O save them, Lord.
The Versicle.
Lo we adore thee
Dread Lamb! and bow thus low before thee.
The Responsor.
'Cause by the covenant of thy Cross,
Thou hast sav'd the world from certain loss.
The Prayer.
O My Lord Jesu Christ, Son of, &c.


THese Hours, and that which hovers o'r my end,
Into thy Hands, and Heart, Lord, I commend.
Take both to thine account, that I and mine
In that hour and in these, may be all thine.
Page  174 That as I dedicate my devoutest Breath
To make a kind of Life for my Lords Death,
So from his living, and life-giving Death,
My dying Life may draw a new, and never-fleeting Breath.

VEXILLA REGIS, The Hymn of the Holy Cross.

LOok up, languishing soul! Lo where the fair
Badge of thy Faith calls back thy care,
And bids thee ne'r forget
Thy Life is one long Debt
Of Love to Him, who on this painful Tree
Paid back the Flesh he took for thee.
Lo, how the streams of Life from that full Nest
Of Loves, thy Lord's too liberal Brest,
Flow in an amorous Floud
Of Water wedding Bloud.
With these he wash't thy stain, transfer'd thy smart,
And took it home to his own heart.
But though great Love, greedy of such sad gain
Usurp't the portion of thy pain,
Page  175 And from the Nails and Spear
Turn'd the steel point of Fear,
Their use is chang'd, not lost; and now they move
Not stings of Wrath, but wounds of Love.
Tall Tree of Life! thy Truth makes good
What was till now ne'r understood,
Though the prophetick King
Struck loud his faithful string.
It was thy wood he meant should make the Throne
For a more then Salomon.
Large throne of Love! Royally spred
With purple of too rich a Red.
Thy crime is too much duty;
Thy burthen too much Beauty;
Glorious or grievous more? thus to make good
Thy costly Excellence with thy Kings own Blood.
Even ballance of both Worlds! our World of sin,
And that of Grace Heav'n weigh'd in Him,
Us with our price thou weighedst,
Our price for us thou payedst;
Soon as the right-hand scale rejoyc't to prove
How much Death weigh'd more light then Love.
Hail, our alone Hope! let thy fair Head shoot
Aloft; and fill the Nations with thy Noble fruit.
Page  176 The while our hearts and we
Thus graft our selves on thee;
Grow thou and they; and be thy fair increase
The sinner's pardon and the just man's peace.
Live, O for ever Live and Reign
The Lamb whom his own Love has slain!
And let thy lost sheep live t' inherit
That Kingdom which this Cross did merit. Amen.

Charitas Nimia. Or the dear Bargain.

LOrd, what is Man? why should he cost thee
So dear? what had his ruine lost thee?
Lord, what is Man? that thou hast over-bought
So much a thing of nought?
Love is too kind, I see, and can
Make but a simple Merchant man.
'Twas for such sorry Merchandise,
Bold Painters have put out his Eyes.
Alas, sweet Lord, what wer't to thee
If there were no such Worms as we?
Heav'n ne'rtheless still Heav'n would be.
Should Mankind dwell
In the deep Hell,
What have his Woes to do with thee?
Let him go weep
O'r his own wounds;
Seraphims will not sleep
Nor Sphears let fall their fatihful rounds.
Page  177 Still would the youthful Spirits sing,
And still thy spacious Palace ring.
Still would those beauteous Ministers of Light
Burn all as bright,
And bow their flaming heads before thee,
Still Thrones and Dominations would adore thee,
Still would those ever-wakeful sons of fire
Keep warm thy praise
Both nights and days,
And teach thy lov'd name to their Noble Lyre.
Let froward Dust then do its kind;
And give it self for sport to the proud wind.
Why should a piece of peevish Clay plead shares
In the Eternity of thy old cares?
Why shouldst thou bow thy awful Brest to see
What mine own madnesses have done with me?
Should not the King still keep his Throne
Because some desperate Fool's undone?
Or will the World's illustrious Eyes
Weep for every Worm that dies;
Will the gallant Sun
E'r the less Glorious run?
Will he hang down his Golden head
Or e'r the sooner seek his Western bed,
Because some foolish Fly
Grows wanton, and will dye?
If I were lost in misery,
What was it to thy Heav'n and thee?
What was it to thy precious blood
If my soul Heart call'd for a floud?
Page  178 What if my faithless soul and I
Would needs fall in
With guilt and sin,
What did the Lamb that he should dye?
What did the Lamb that he should need?
When the Wolf sins, himself to bleed?
If my base Lust,
Bargain'd with Death and well-beseeming Dust
Why should the white
Lamb's bosome write
The purple name
Of my sin's shame?
Why should his unstain'd Brest make good
My blushes with his own heart-blood?
O my Saviour make me see
How dearly thou hast paid for me
That lost again, my Life may prove
As then in Death, so now in Love.

Sancta Maria dolorum, Or the Mother of sorrows; a Pathetical descant upon the devout Plainsong of Stabat Mater dolorosa.

IN shade of Deaths sad Tree
Stood doleful she,
Ah she! now by no other
Name to be known, alas, but Sorrow's Mother.
Page  179 Before her Eyes
Her's and the whole World's joyes,
Hanging all torn she sees; and in his woes
And Pains, her pangs and throes.
Each wound of his, from every part,
All, more at home in her own heart.
What kind of Marble than
Is that cold man
Who can look on and see,
Nor keep such Noble sorrows company?
Sure even from you
(My Flints) some drops are due
To see so many unkind swords contest
So fast for one soft Brest.
While with a faithful, mutual, floud
Her Eyes bleed Tears, his wounds weep blood.
O costly intercourse
Of deaths, and worse
Divided Loves: while Son and Mother
Discourse alternate wounds to one another;
Quick Deaths that grow
And gather, as they come and go:
His Nails write swords in her; which soon her heart
Pays back, with more then their own smart;
Her swords, still growing with his pain,
Turn Spears, and straight come home again;
Page  1824.
She sees her Son, her God,
Bow with a load
Of borrow'd sins; and swim
In woes that were not made for him.
Ah hard Command
Of Love! Here must she stand
Charg'd to look on, and with a stedfast Eye
See her life dye:
Leaving her only so much Breath
As serves to keep alive her death.
O Mother Turtle-dove!
Soft sourse of Love,
That these dry Lids might borrow
Somthing from thy full seas of Sorrow!
O in that Brest
Of thine (the noblest Nest
Both of Love's Fires and Flouds) might I recline
This hard, cold, Heart of mine!
The chil lump would relent, and prove
Soft Subject for the siege of Love.
O teach those wounds to bleed
In me; me, so to read
This Book of Loves, thus writ
In lines of death, my life may copy it
Page  183 With Loyal cares.
O let me here claim shares;
Yield something in thy sad prerogative
(Great Queen of griefs) and give
Me to my Tears; who, though all stone,
Think much that thou shouldst mourn alone.
Yea let my life and me
Fix here with thee,
And at the Humble Foot
Of this fair Tree take our Eternal Root.
That so we may
At least be in Loves way;
And in these chaste wars while the wing'd wounds flee
So fast 'twixt him and thee,
My Brest may catch the kiss of some kind Dart,
Though as at second hand, from either Heart.
O you, your own best Darts,
Dear doleful hearts!
Hail; and strike home and make me see
That wounded bosomes their own weapons be.
Come Wounds! come Darts!
Nail'd hands! and pierced hearts!
Come your whole selves, Sorrow's great Son and Mo∣ther.
Nor grudge a younger Brother
Of grief's his portion, who (had all their due)
One single wound should not have left for you.
Page  1829.
Shall I set there
So deep a share
(Dear wounds) and onely now
In sorrows draw no dividend with you!
O be more wife,
If not more soft, mine Eyes!
Flow, tardy Founts! and into decent showrs
Dissolve my Days and Hours.
And if thou yet (faint soul!) defer
To bleed with him, fail not to weep with her.
Rich Queen, lend some relief;
At least an alms of Grief
To' a heart who by sad right of sin
Could prove the whole sum (too sure) due to him.
By all those stings
Of Love, sweet bitter things,
Which these torn hands transcrib'd on thy true Heart;
O teach mine too, the Art
To study him so, till we mix
Wounds, and become one Crucifix.
O let me suck the Wine
So long of this chaste Vine,
Till, drunk of the dear wounds, I be
A lost thing to the World, as it to me.
Page  183 O faithful friend
Of me and of my end!
Fold up my life in Love; and lay't beneath
My dear Lord's vital death.
Lo, heart, thy hopes whole Plea! her precious breath
Powr'd out in Prayers for thee; thy Lord's in death.

The Hymn of St. Thomas, in Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament.

WIth all the pow'rs my poor Heart hath
Of humble Love and Loyal Faith,
Thus low (my hidden life!) I bow to thee
Whom too much Love hath bow'd more low for me.
Down, down, proud sense! discourses dye,
Keep close, my soul's inquiring Eye!
Nor touch nor taste must look for more,
But each sit still in his own door.
Your Ports are all superfluous here,
Save that which lets in Faith, the Ear.
Faith is my skill; Faith can believe
As fast as Love new Laws can give.
Faith is my force; Faith strength affords
To keep pace with those pow'rful words:
And words more sure, more sweet then they
Love could not think, truth could not say.
O let thy wretch find that relief
Thou didst afford the faithful Thief;
Plead for me, Love! Alledge and show
That Faith has farther, here, to go,
Page  186 And less to lean on; because than
Though hid as God, wounds writ thee Man,
Thomas might touch; none but might see
At least the suffring side of thee;
And that too was thy self which thee did cover,
But here ev n that's hid too which hides the other.
Sweet consider then, that I
Though allow'd not Hand nor Eye
To teach at thy lov'd Face; nor can
Taste thee God, or touch thee Man;
Both yet believe and witness thee
My Lord too, and my God, as loud as he.
Help, Lord, my Hope increase;
And till my portion in thy peace.
Give Love for Life, nor let my days
Grow, but in new pow'rs to name thy Praise.
O dear memorial of that Death
Which lives still, and allows us Breath!
Rich, Royal Food! Bountiful Bread!
Whose use denies us to the Dead;
Whose vital gust alone can give
The same leave both to Eat and Live;
Live ever Bread of Loves, and be
My Life, my Soul, my surer self to me.
O soft self-wounding Pelican!
Whose Brest weeps Balm for wounded Man:
Ah this way bend thy benign Houd
To a bleeding Heart that g•…spes for Blood;
That Blood, whose least drops soveraign be
To wash my Worlds of sine from me.
Page  187 Come Love! Come Lord! and that long day
For which I languish, come away.
When this dry soul those Eyes shall see,
And drink the unseal'd sourse of thee.
When Glory's Sun Faith's shade shall chase,
Then for thy veil give me thy Face, Amen.

Thè Hymn for the Blessed Sacrament. Lauda Sion Salvatorem.

RIse, Royal Sion! rise and sing
Thy Soul's kind Shepheard, thy Hearts King.
Stretch all thy powers; call if you can
Harps of Heav'n to hands of man,
This Soveraign subject sits above
The best ambition of thy Love.
Lo the Bread of Life, this day's
Triumphant Text. provokes thy praise
The living and life-giving Bread.
To the Great Twelve distributed
When Life himself at point to dy,
Of Love, was his own Legacy.
Come, Love! and let us work a Song
Loud and pleasant, sweet and long;
Page  186 Let Lips and Hearts lift high the noise
Of so just and solemn joys,
Which on his white brows this bright day
Shall hence for ever bear away.
Lo the new Law of a new Lord,
With a new Lamb blesses the Board.
The aged Pascha pleads not years
But spies Love's dawn, and disappears.
Types yield to Truths; shades shrink away;
And their Night dyes into out Day.
But lest that dy too, we are bid,
Ever to do what he once did.
And by a mindful, mystick breath,
That we may live, revive his Death;
With a well-blest Bread and Wine
Transum'd, and taught to turn Divine.
The Heav'n-instructed house of Faith
Here a Holy Dictate hath,
That they but lend their Form and Face,
Themselves with reverence leave their place
Nature and Name to be made good
By a Nobler Bread, more needful Blood,
Page  1877.
Where Nature's Laws no leave will give,
Bold Faith takes heart, and dares believe
In different species, name not things
Himself to me my Saviour brings,
As Meat in that, as Drink in this;
But still in both one Christ he is.
The receiving Mouth here makes
Nor wound nor breach in what he takes.
Let one, or one Thousand be
Here Dividers, single he
Bears home no less, all they no more,
Nor leave they both less then before.
Though in it self this Soveraign Feast
Be all the same to every Guest,
Yet on the same (life-meaning) Bread
The child of death eats himself dead.
Nor is't Love's fault, but Sins dire skill
That thus from Life can Death distil.
When the blest signs thou broke shal't see,
Hold but thy Faith intire as he,
Who, howsoe'r clad, cannot come
Lesse then whole Christ in every crumme.
Page  190 In broken forms a stable Faith
Untouch't her precious Total hath.
Lo the Life-food of Angels then
Bow'd to the lowly mouths of men!
The Childrens Bread; the Bridegroom's Wine,
Not to be cast to Dogs or Swine.
Lo, the full, final, Sacrifice
On which all Figures fix't their Eyes,
The ransom'd Isack, and his Ram;
The Manna, and the Paschal Lamb.
Jesu, Master, Just and true!
Our Food, and faithful Shepherd too!
O by thy self vouchsafe to keep,
As with thy self thou feedst thy sheep.
O let that Love which thus makes thee
Mix with our low Mortality,
Lift our lean Souls, and let us up
Convictors of thine own full cup.
Coheirs of Saints, that so all may
Drink the same Wine; and the same Way.
Nor change the Pasture, but the Place,
To seed of Thee in thine own Face. Amen.
Page  191

The HYMN. Dies irae dies illa. In Meditation of the day of Judgment.

HEars't thou, my soul, what serious things
Both the Psalm and Sybil sings
Of a sure Judge, from whose sharp Ray
The World in Flames shall fly away.
O that fire! before whose face
Heav'n and Earth shall find no place:
O these Eyes! whose angry light
Must be the day of that dread Night.
O that trump! whose blast shall run
An Even round with th' circling Sun,
And urge the murmuring graves to bring
Pale mankind forth to meet his King.
Horror of Nature, Hell and Death!
When a deep groan from beneath
Shall cry we come, we come, and all
The Caves of Night answer one call.
Page  1905.
O that Book! whose Leaves so bright
Will set the World in severe Light.
O that Judge! whose Hand, whose Eye
None can indure; yet none can fly.
Ah then, poor Soul, what wilt thou say?
And to what Patron chuse to pray?
When Stars themselves shall stagger; and
The most firm Foot no more then stand.
But thou giv'st leave (dread Lord) that we
Take shelter from thy self in Thee;
And with the wings of thine own Dove
Fly to thy Scepter of soft Love.
Dear, remember in that day
Who was the cause thou cam'st this way.
Thy sheep was stray'd, and thou wouldst be
Even lost thy self in seeking me.
Shall all that labour, all that cost
Of Love, and ev'n that loss, be lost?
And this lov'd soul, judg'd worth no less
Then all that way and weariness?
Page  19110.
Just Mercy then, thy reck'ning be
With my price, and not with me;
'Twas paid at first with too much pain,
To be paid twice, or once in vain.
Mercy (my Judge) Mercy I cry
With blushing Cheek and bleeding Eye,
The conscious Colours of my sin
Are Red without and pale within.
O let thine own soft Bowells pay
Thy self; and so discharge that day.
If sin can sigh, Love can forgive.
O say the word, my Soul shall live.
Those Mercies which thy Mary found
Or who thy Cross confest and Crown'd,
Hope tells my heart, the same Loves be
Still alive and still for me.
Though both my Pray'rs and Tears combine,
Both worthless are; for they are mine.
But thou thy bounteous self still be;
And show thou art, by saving me.
Page  19415.
O when thy last frown shall proclaim
The flocks of goats to folds of flame,
And all thy lost sheep found shall be,
Let come ye Blessod then call me.
When the dread Ite shall divide
Those Limbs of death from thy left side,
Let those Life-speaking Lips command
That I inherit thy right hand.
O hear a suppliant heart; all crush't
And crumbled into contrite dust.
My hope, my fear! my Judge, my Friend!
Take charge of me, and of my end.

The HYMN. O Gloriosa Domina.

HAil, most High, most humble one!
Above the World; below thy Son
Whose blush the Moon beauteously marres
And stains the timerous light of Stars.
He that made all things had not done
Till he had made himself thy Son.
The whole World's host would be thy guest
And board himself at thy rich Brest.
Page  195 O boundless Hospitality!
The Feast of all things feeds on thee.
The first Eve, Mother of our Fall,
E'r she bore any one, slew all.
Of her unkind gift might we have
The inheritance of a hasty Grave;
Quick buried in the wanton Tomb
Of one forbidden bit;
Had not a better Fruit forbidden it.
Had not thy healthful womb
The Worlds new Eastern window been
And given us Heav'n again in giving him.
Thine was the Rosy Dawn that sprung the Day
Which renders all the Stars she stole away.
Let then the aged World be wise, and all
Prove Nobly, here, unnatural:
'Tis gratitude to forget that other
And call the Maiden Eve their Mother.
Ye redeem'd Nations far and Near,
Applaud your happy selves in her,
(All you to whom this Love belongs)
And keep't alive with lasting songs.
Let Hearts and Lips speak loud, and say,
Hail, door of Life, and sourse of Day!
The Door was shut, the Fountain seal'd;
Yet Light was seen and Life reveal'd;
The Fountain seal'd, yet Life found way.
Glory to thee, great Virgin's son
In bosom of thy Fathers bliss.
The same to thee, sweet Spirit be done;
As ever shall be, was, and is, Amen.
Page  194

The Flaming Heart, upon the Book and Picture of the Seraphical Saint Teresa, as she is usually expressed with a Seraphim beside her.

WEll meaning Readers! you that come as friends
And catch the precious name this piece pretends;
Make not too much haste t'admire
That fair-cheek't fallacy of fire,
That is a Seraphim, they say
And this the great Teresia.
Readers be rul'd by me; and make
Here a well-plac't and wise mistake;
You must transpose the picture quite,
And spell it wrong to read it right;
Read Him for Her, and Her for Him;
And call the Saint the Seraphim.
Painter, what didst thou understand
To put her Dart into his hand!
See, even the years and size of him
Shows this the Mother Seraphim.
This is the Mistress flame; and duteous he
Her happy fire-works, here, comes down to see:
O most poor-spirited of men!
Had thy cold Pencil kist her Pen,
Thou couldst not so unkindly err
To show us this faint shade for her.
Page  195 Why Man, this speaks pure mortal frame;
And mocks with female Frost, Love's manly flame,
One would suspect thou meanst to print
Some weak, inferiour, Woman Saint.
But had thy pale-fac't purple took
Fire from the burning checks of that bright Book
Thou wouldst on her have heapt up all
That could be found Seraphical;
What e'r this youth of fire wears fair,
Rosie Fingers, Radiant Hair.
Glowing Cheek, and glistring Wings,
All those fair and flagrant things,
But before all, that fiery Dart
Had fill'd the Hand of this great Heart.
Do then as equal right requires,
Since his the blushes be, and her's the fires,
Resume and rectify thy rude design;
Undress thy Seraphim into Mine.
Redeem this injury of thy Art;
Give him the Vail, give her the Dart.
Give him the vail; that he may cover
The red Cheeks of a rivall'd Lover;
Asham'd that our worl'd, now, can show
Nests of new Seraphims here below.
Give her the Dart for it is she
(Fair youth) shoots both thy shaft and Thee:
Say, all ye wise and well-pierc'd hearts
That live and dy amidst her Darts,
What is't your tastful spirits do prove
In that rare life of her, and Love?
Say and bear witness, Sends she not
A Seraphim at every shot?
What Magazins of immortal Arms there shine,
Heav'ns great Artillery in each'love-spun line.
Page  196 Give then the Dart to her who gives the flame;
Give him the veil, who gives the shame.
But if it be the frequent fate
Of worst faults to be fortunate;
If all's prescription; and proud wrong
Hearkens not to an humble song;
For all the gallantry of him,
Give me the suffring Seraphim.
His be the bravery of all those bright things.
The glowing Cheeks, the glistering wings;
The Rosie hand, the radiant Dart;
Leave her alone the Flaming Heart.
Leave her that; and thou shalt leave her
Not one loose shaft but Love's whole Quiver.
For in Love's Field was never found
A Nobler weapon then a wound.
Love's Passives are his Activ'st part;
The wounded is the wounding heart.
O Heart! the equal poise of Love's both parts,
Big alike with Wounds and Darts;
Live in these conquering Leave's; Live all the same;
And walk through all Tongues one Triumphant flame;
Live here, great Heart; and love, and dye, and kill;
And bleed and wound, and yield, and conquer still.
Let this immortal Life where e'r it comes
Walk in a croud of Loves and Martyrdomes.
Let mystick Deaths wait on't; and wise souls be
The Love-slain witnesses of this life of thee.
O sweet incendiary! shew here thy Art,
Upon this Carcass of a hard cold Heart;
Let all thy scatter'd shafts of Light, that play
Among the Leaves of thy large Books of day,
Combin'd against this Brest at once break in
And take away from me my self and sin;
Page  197 This Gracious Robbery shall thy bounty be
And my best fortunes such fair spoils of me.
O thou undaunted Daughter of Desires!
By all thy Dow'r of Lights and Fires;
By all the Eagle in thee, all the Dove;
By all thy Lives and Deaths of Love;
By thy large draughts of intellectual day;
And by thy thirsts of Love more large then they;
By all thy brim-fill'd Bowls of fierce desire;
By thy last mornings draught of liquid Fire;
By the full Kingdom of that final kiss
That seiz'd thy parting Soul, and seal'd thee his;
By all the Heav'ns thou hast in him
(Fair Sister of the Seraphim)
By all of Him we have in Thee;
Leave nothing of my Self in me.
Let me so read thy life, that I
Unto all life of mine may dy.

A Song.

LOrd, when the sense of thy sweet Grace
Sends up my Soul to seek thy Face.
Thy Blessed Eyes breed such desire,
I dye in Love's delicious Fire.
O Love, I am thy Sacrifice,
Be still Triumphant, Blessed Eyes
Still shine on me, fair Suns, that I
Still may behold, though still I dye.
Second part.
Though still I dye, I live again;
Still longing so to be still slain,
Page  198 So gainful is such loss of breath,
I dye even in desire of death.
Still live in me this loving strife
Of living Death and dying Life.
For while thou sweetly slayest me,
Dead to my self, I live in thee.

To Mistrses M. R. Councel concerning her Choise.

DEar, Heav'n-designed Soul!
Amongst the rest
Of Suiters that besiege your Maiden brest,
Why may not I
My fortune try
And venture to speak one good word
Not for my self, alas! but for my dearer Lord;
You'ave seen already in this lower sphear
Of Froth and Bubbles, what to look for here.
Say, gentle Soul, what can you find
But painted shapes,
Peacocks and Apes,
Illustrious Flies,
Guilded Dunghils, Glorious Lyes,
Goodly surmises
And deep disguises,
Oaths of Water, Words of Wind?
Truth bids me say, 'tis time you cease to Trust
Your Soul to any son of Dust.
'Tis time you listen to a braver Love,
Which from above
Calls you up higher,
Page  199 And bids you come
And choose your room
Among his own fair sons of fire,
Where you among
The Golden throng
That watches at his Palace doors
May pass along
And follow those fair Stars of yours;
Stars much too fair and pure to wait upon
The false smiles of a sublunary Sun.
Sweet, let me Prophesie that at last 'twill prove
Your wary Love
Lays up his purer and more precious vows,
And means them for a far more worthy Spouse
Then this world of Lies can give you,
Ev'n for him with whom nor cost,
Nor love, nor labour can be lost;
Him who never, will deceive you.
Let not my Lord, the Mighty Lover
Of souls, disdain that I discover
The hidden Art
Of his high stratagem to win your heart,
It was his Heav'nly Art
Kindly to cross you
In your mistaken Love,
That, at the next remove
Thence he might toss you,
And strike your troubled heart
Home to himself; to hide it in his Brest
The bright ambrosial Nest,
Of Love, of Life, and everlasting Rest.
Happy mistake!
That thus shall wake
Your wise soul, never to be won
Now with a love below the Sun.
Page  200 Your first choice fails, O when you choose agen,
May it not be among the sons of men.

ALEXIAS. The Complaint of the forsaken wife of Saint Alexis.

The First ELEGY.

I Late the Roman Youth's lov'd praise and pride,
Whom long none could obtain, though thousands try'd,
Lo here am left (alas,) For my lost mate
T' embrace my Tears, and kiss an unkind Fate.
Sure in my early woe, Stars were at strife,
And try'd to make a Widow e'r a Wife.
Nor can I tell (and this new Tears doth breed)
In what strange path my Lord's fair footsteps bleed.
O knew I where he wander'd, I should see
Some solace in my sorrow's certainty;
I'd send my woes in words should weep for me.
(Who knows how powrful well-writ pray'rs would be)
Sending's too slow a word, my self would fly:
Who knows my own heart's woes so well as I?
But how shall I steal hence? Alexis thou,
Ah thou thy self, alas, has taught me how.
Love too, that leads thee, would lend thee the wings
To bear me harmless through the hardest things:
And where Love lends the wing, and leads the way,
What dangers can there be dare say me nay?
If I be shipwrack•…t, Love shall teach to swim;
If drown'd, sweet is the death indur'd for him;
Page  201 The noted sea shall change his name with me,
I, 'mongst the blest Stars a new name shall be;
And sure where Lovers make their watry Graves,
The weeping Mariner will augment the waves.
For who so hard, but passing by that way
Will take acquaintance of my woes, and say,
Here't was the Roman Maid found a hard fate
While through the world she sought her wandring
Here perisht she, poor heart; Heav'ns, be my vows
As true to me, as she was to her Spouse.
O live, so rare a love! live! and in thee
The too frail life of femal constancy.
Farewel and shine, fair soul, shine there above
Firm in thy Crown, as here fast in thy Love.
There thy lost fugitive thou hast found at last;
Be happy; and for ever hold him fast.

The Second ELEGY.

THough all the Joys I had fled hence with thee,
Unkind! yet are my Tears still true to me;
I'm wedded o'r again since thou art gone,
Nor couldst thou, cruel, leave me quite alone.
Alexis's Widdow now is sorrow's wife,
With him shall I weep out my weary life.
Welcome my sad sweet Mate! Now have I got
At last a constant Love that leaves me not.
Firm he, as thou art false, nor need my crys
Thus vex the Earth, and tear the Skies.
For him, alas, ne'r shall I need to be
Troublesome to the World, thus, as for thee,
Page  202 For thee I talk to Trees; with silent Groves
Expostulate my woes and much-wrong'd loves.
Hills and relentless Rocks, or if there be
Things that in hardness more allude to thee;
To these I talk in Tears, and tell my pain;
And answer too for them in Tears again.
How oft have I wept out the weary Sun?
My watry hour-Glass hath old time out-run.
O, I am Learned grown, poor Love and I
Have studied over all Astrology.
I'm perfect in Heav'ns state, with every Star
My skilful grief is grown familiar.
Rise, fairest of those fires; what e'r thou be
Whose Rosie beam shall point my Sun to me;
Such as the Sacred Light that er'st did bring
The Eastern Princes to their infant King.
O rise, pure Lamp! and lend thy Golden ray
That wary Love at last may find his way.

The Third ELEGY.

RIch, churlish Land! that hid'st so long in thee,
My Treasures, rich, alas, by robbing me.
Needs must my Miseries owe that man a spite
Who e'r he be was the first wandring Knight.
O had he ne'r been at that cruel cost
Nature's Virginity had ne'r been lost.
Seas had not been rebuk't by saucy Oars
But lain lock't up safe in their sacred shores
Men had not spurn'd at Mountains; nor made wars
With Rocks; nor bold hands struck the World's strong bars,
Page  203 Nor lost in too large bounds, our little Rome
Full sweetly with it self had dwelt at home.
My poor Alexis, then in peaceful life,
Had under some low roof lov'd his plain wife:
But now, ah me, from where he has no foes
He flies; and into wilful exile goes.
Cruel return or tell the reason why
Thy dearest Parents have deserv'd to dye;
And I, what is my crime I cannot tell,
Unless it be a crime t' have lov'd too well.
If Heats of Holier Love and high Desire
Make big thy fair Brest with immortal Fire,
What needs my virgin Lord fly thus from me,
Who only wish his virgin Wife to be?
Witness, chaste Heav'ns! no happier vows I know
Then to a virgin Grave untouch't to goe.
Love's truest knot by Venus is not ty'd;
Nor do embraces only make a Bride.
The Queen of Angels, (and men chaste as you)
Was Maiden-Wife, and Maiden-Mother too.
Cecilia, Glory of her Name and Blood
With happy gain her Maiden vows made good.
The lusty Bridegroom made appoach, young man,
Take heed (said she) take heed Valerian;
My bosome Guard, a Spirit great and strong,
Stands arm'd to shield me from all wanton wrong.
My Chastity is Sacred; and my Sleep
Wakeful, her dear vows undefil'd to keep.
Pallas bears Arms, forsooth, and should there be
No fortress built for true Virginity?
No gap•… Gorgon this, none like the rest
Of your learn'd Lyes: here you'l find no such jest.
I'm yours, O were my God, my Christ so too,
I'd know no name of Love on Earth but you.
Page  204 He yields, and straight Baptiz'd, obtains the Grace
To gaze on the fair souldier's Glorious face.
Both mixt at last their Blood in one rich Bed
Of Rosie Martydome, twice Married.
O burn our Hymen bright in such high Flame,
Thy Torch, terrestrial Love, has here no name.
How sweet the mutual yoke of Man and Wife,
When Holy fires maintain Love's Heav'nly life!
But I, (so help me Heav'n my hopes to see)
When Thousands sought my Love, lov'd none but
Still, as their vain Tears my firm vows did try,
Alexis, he alone is mine (said I)
Half true, alas, half false, proves that poor Line,
Alexis is alone; but is not mine.

Description of a Religious House and con∣dition of Life. (Out of BARCLAY.)

NO roofs of Gold o'r riotous Tables shining,
Whole Days and Suns devour'd with endless
No Sails of Tyrian Silk proud pavements sweeping;
Nor ivory couches costlyer slumbers keeping;
False Lights of fl•…iring Gemms; tumultuous joys;
Halls full of flattering Men and frisking Boys;
Whate'r false shows of short and slippery good
Mix the mad sons of Men in mutual blood.
But Walks and unshorn Woods; and Souls, just so
Unforc't and genuine; but not shady tho:
Our Lodgings hard and homely as our Fare,
That Chaste and Cheap, as the few Clothes we wear.
Page  205 Those course and negligent, as the natural Locks
Of these loose Groves, rough as th' unpolisht Rocks.
A hasty portion of prescribed sleep;
Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep,
And Sing, and Sigh, and Work, and Sleep again;
Still rowling a round Sphear of still-returning pain,
Hands full of hearty labours, do much, that more they may,
And work for work, not wages; let to morrows
New drops wash off the sweat of this days sorrows.
A long and daily dying-life, which breaths
A respiration of reviving deaths,
But neither are there those ignoble stings
That nip the bosome of the World's best things
And lash Earth-laboring souls;
No cruel guard of diligent cares, that keep
Crown'd woes awake; as things too wise for sleep:
But Reverent Discipline, and Religious Fear,
And soft obedience find sweet biding here;
Silence, and sacred Rest; Peace, and pure joys;
Kind Loves keep house, lie close, and make no noise,
And room enough for Monarchs while none swels
Beyond the Kingdoms of contentful Cels.
The self-remembring Soul sweetly recovers
Her kindred with the Stars; not basely hovers
Below; but meditates her immortal way
Home to the original source of Light and intellectual
Page  206

Deaths Lecture, the Funeral of a young Gentleman.

DEar Reliques of a dislodg'd Soul, whose lack
Makes many a mourning Paper put on black!
O stay a while e'r thou draw in thy head
And wind thy self up close in thy cold bed.
Stay but a little while until I call
A summons worthy of thy Funeral;
Come then, Youth, Beauty and Blood;
All the soft pow'rs
Whose Silken flatteries swell a few fond hours
Into a false Eternity. Come man;
Hyperbolized Nothing! know thy span;
Take thine own measure here, down, down, and bow
Before thy self in thine Idea; thou
Huge emptiness! contract thy self, and shrink
All thy wild Circle to a point, O sink
Lower and lower yet; till thy lean size
Call Heav'n to look on thee with narrow Eyes;
Lesser and lesser yet; till thou begin
To show a Face, sit to confess thy Kin,
Thy Neighbourhood to Nothing.
Proud Looks, and lofty Eye-lids, here put on
Your selves in your unfaign'd reflexion,
Here, gallant Ladies; this unpartial Glass
(Though you be painted) shows you your true face:
These death-seal'd Lips are they dare give the lye
To the loud boasts of poor Mortality:
These Curtain'd windows, this retired Eye
Out-stares the Lids of large-look't Tiranny:
Page  207 This posture is the brave one, this that lies
Thus low, stands up (methinks) thus and defie,
The World; all-daring Dust and Ashes! only you
Of all interpreters read Nature true.

Temperance, or the cheap Physitian upon the Translation of Lessius.

GOe now; and with some daring drug
Bait thy disease, and whilst they tug,
Thou to maintain their pretious strife
Spend the dear Treasures of thy life.
Goe take Physick, doat upon
Some big-nam'd Composition,
Th' Oraculous Doctors mystick Bills;
Certain hard Words made into Pills,
And what at last shal't gain by these?
Only a costlier disease,
That which makes us have no need
Of Physick, that's Physick indeed.
Hark hither, Reader, wilt thou see
Nature her own Physitian be?
Wilt see a man, all his own wealth,
His own Musick, his own Health;
A man whose sober soul can tell
How to wear her Garments well,
Her Garments, that upon her sit
As Garments should do close and fit;
A well-cloth'd soul that's not opprest
Nor choak't with what she should be drest.
A soul-sheath'd in a Christal shrine;
Through which all her bright features shine;
Page  208 As when a piece of wanton Lawn,
A thin aerial veil, is drawn
O'r beauties face, seeming to hide,
More sweetly shows the blushing bride.
A soul, whose intellectual beams
No Mists do Mask, no Lazy steams,
A happy soul, that all the way
To Heav'n rides in a Summers day.
Would'st see a man, whose well-warm'd Blood
Baths him in a genuine Flood!
A man whose tuned humours be
A seat of rarest harmony?
Would'st see blith looks, fresh Cheeks beguile
Age? wouldst see December smile?
Would'st see Nests of new Roses grow
In a bed of reverend Snow?
Warm Thoughts, free Spirits flattering
Winter's self into a Spring.
In summe, would'st see a man that can
Live to be old, and still a man?
Whose latest and most leaden hours
Fall with soft wings, stuck with soft flowers;
And when Life's sweet Fable ends,
Soul and Body part like friends;
No quarrels, murmurs, no delay;
A kiss, a Sigh, and so away.
This rare one, Reader, wouldst thou see?
Hark hither; and thy self be he.
Page  [unnumbered]