Poems, &c. written upon several occasions, and to several persons by Edmond Waller.
Waller, Edmund, 1606-1687.


THE fear of Hell, or aiming to be Blest,
Savours too much of private Interest;
This mov'd not Moses, nor the zealous Paul,
Who for their Friends abandon'd Soul and all:
A greater yet, from Heav'n to Hell descends.
To save, and make his Enemies his Friends▪
What line of Praise can fathom such a Love,
Which reacht the lowest bottom from above?
The Royal Prophet, that extended Grace
From Heav'n to earth, measur'd but half that space:
The Law was regnant, and confin'd his though
ell was not conquer'd, when that Poet 〈◊〉
Page  272 Heav'n was earce heard of, until be came down
To make the Region, where Love triumphs, known▪
That early Love of Creatures yet unmade,
To ••ame the World th'Almighty did perswade:
For Love it was, that first created Light,
Mov'd on the Waters, cha'd away the Night
From the rude Chaos, and bestow'd new Grace
On things dispos'd of to their proper place;
Some to rest here, and some to shine above:
Earth, Sea, and Heav'n, were all th'Effects of Love▪
And Love would be reurn'd; but there was none▪
That to themselves, or others yet were known:
The World a Palace was, without a Guest,
Till one appears, that must excel she rest;
One, like the Author, whose Capacious mind
Might by the Glorious Work, the Maker find;
Might measure Heaven, and give each Star a name▪
With Art and Courage the rough 〈…〉;
Page  273 Over the Globe, with swelling Sails might go,
And that 'tis round, by his experience know;
Make strongest Beasts obedient to his Will,
And serve his use the fertile Earth to Till.
When by his Word, God had accomplisht all;
Man to Create, he did a Council call;
Imploy'd his Hand, to give the Dust he took
A graceful Figure, and Majestick Look;
With his own Breath, convey'd into his Breast
Life and a Soul fit to command the rest,
Worthy alone to Celebrate his Name
For such a Gift, and tell from whence it came:
Birds sing his Praises, in a wilder Note,
But not with lasting numbers, and with thought,
Man's great Prerogative. But above all
His Grace abounds, in his new Favorites fall.
If he Create, it is a World he makes;
f he be ang'ry, the Creation shakes:
Page  274 From his just wrath our guilty Parents fled;
He curs't the Earth, but bruis'd the Serpent's head.
Amidst the Storm, his Bounty did exceed,
In the rich promise of the Virgins seed;
Thô Justice death as satisfaction craves,
Love finds a way to pluck us from our Graves.