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


NOT willing Terror should his Image move,
He gives a Pattern of Eternal Love;
His Son descends, to treat a Peace with those,
Which were, and must have ever been his Foes;
Poor he became, and left his Glorious Seat,
To make us humble, and to make us great;
His business here was happiness to give
To those, whose Malice could not let him live:
Legions of Angels, which he might have us'd,
For us resolv'd to perish, he refus'd▪
Page  275 While they stood ready to prevent his Loss,
Love took him up, and nail'd him to the Cross▪
Immortal Love! which in his Bowels reign'd,
That we might be by such a Love constrain'd
To make return of Love; upon this Pole
Our Duty does, and our Religion rowle.
To Love is to believe, to hope, to know,
'Tis an Essay, a taste of Heav'n below.
He to proud Potentates would not be known,
Of those that lov'd him, he was hid from none.
Till Love appear, we live in anxious doubt;
But Smoke will vanish, when that Flame breaks out:
This is the Fire, that would consume our Dross,
Reine, and make us richer by the Loss.
Could we forbear Dispute, and practise Love,
We should agree, as Angels do above.
Where Love presides, not Vice alone does find
No Entrance there, but Vertues stay behind▪
Page  276 Both Faith and Hope, and all the meaner train
Of moral Vertues, at the door remain;
Love only enters, as a Native there,
For born in Heav'n, it do's but sojourn here.
He that alone, would wise and mighty be,
Commands that others Love, as well as he:
Love as he Lov'd, how can we soar so high?
He can add wings, when he commands to flie:
Nor should we be with this Command dismay'd,
He that Example gives, will give his Aid;
For he took flesh, that where his Precepts fail,
His Practice as a Pattern may prevail;
His Love at once, and Dread instructs our thought,
As Man he suffer'd, and as God he taught;
Will for the Deed he takes, we may with ease
Obedient be, for if we Love, we please;
Weak thô we are, to Love is no hard task,
And Love for Love, is all that Heav'n do's ask:
Page  277 Love, that would all men just and temperate make,
Kind to themselves, and others, for his sake.
'Tis with our Minds, as with a fertile ground;
Wanting this Love, they must with Weeds abound;
Unruly Passions, whose effects are worse,
Than Thorns and Thistles springing from the curse.