Gods love and mans unworthiness whereunto is annexed a discourse between the soul & Satan : with several divine ejaculations / written by John Quarles.
About this Item
Title
Gods love and mans unworthiness whereunto is annexed a discourse between the soul & Satan : with several divine ejaculations / written by John Quarles.
Author
Quarles, John, 1624-1665.
Publication
London :: Printed for John Stafford, and are to be sold at his house ... and by Humphrey Moseley ... and John Holden ...,
1651.
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Subject terms
God -- Love -- Poetry.
Cite this Item
"Gods love and mans unworthiness whereunto is annexed a discourse between the soul & Satan : with several divine ejaculations / written by John Quarles." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A56856.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 8, 2024.
Pages
Gods Reply.
Thou skelleton of baseness, hie thee hence,Disturb me not; return, I say, from whenceThou cam'st at first; thou shalt as soon removeA mountain, as my mind: I cannot love,No nor I will not, nothing shall intreatMy resolutions, for my fury's great.Begone, proud Rebel, do not think thy prayers,Thy vows, thy groans, thy sighs, thy sobs, thy tears,
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Shall make my brest their receptacle; No;How can I be a friend to such a foe?Surcease thy importunities, let fallThy high desires, I will not hear thee call,Thy sins have barr'd my ears; I'le not be wonWith thy base airy words, for thou hast spunThe thred of thy destruction, therefore wearWhat thou hast labour'd for, and so forbearT'intrench upon my patience; 'tis in vainTo seek for that which thou shalt not obtain.And is it thus, that Heav'n will not regardMy cries? Ah me! and must my groans be heardWith disrespect by him, whose tongue affordsNothing but grief, involv'd with bitter words?Alas, alas! what greater wo can crowdInto a brest, then to be disavow'dBy Gods high Voyce, whose most enraged breathDarts forth the arrows of eternal death?What shall I do? Oh, whither shall I runTo hide my self, until the glorious SunOf his affections usher in the dayOf welcom Joy? Oh, whither shall I stray?If I am silent, then my silence turnsMy thoughts to fire; If speak, my speech returnsTrebbl'd with wo, into the brazen TowerOf my sad heart, my language has no power
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To work upon his ears, my wordsBanded, and thrown against th'obdurate walls (like ballsUnyielding brest) bounds back again, and breaksInto my heart, and every sorrow speaksA volume at a word; yet, yet must IReturn unheard; 'tis misery to dye,And pain to live; thus in despair I drawThe loathsom air: Destruction knows no Law.Grief rains a flood of doubt into my Soul;Ah me! I can do nothing but condole▪I am despis'd; and if I bend the forceOf my desires to him, he will divorceAll thoughts of pity, and with rage re-doubleTh'unsum'd up sums of my infringing trouble.
I sail into the Straits, both wind and tydePrevail against me, and I have no guideTo pilate me unto the long'd-for PortOf pleasing happiness; I am a sportTo threatning Ruine, whose presumptuous wavesOut-dares my Soul, whilst every blast enslavesMy reeling Pinnace: If I strive to goTowards Scylla, Scylla will contemn my wo.Alas, in vain I can expect relief,Scylla will bark at my unbridled grief;Or if my head-long vessel chance to hitAgainst Charybdis; I am torn and split
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Into ten thousand pieces: Oh hard hap!Thus am I tossed in Destructions lap.Where shall I find a heart that will adviseMy friendless Soul, and audiate my cries?I will not thus desist, I must implore,He that's lost once, sure can be lost no more.
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