Pia desideria, or, Divine addresses in three books : illustrated with XLVII copper-plates / written in Latine by Herm. Hugo ; Englished by Edm. Arwaker.

[illustration] depiction of an angel with wings and halo comforting an ill figure lying in a bed

III.

Haue mercy upon me O Lord, for I am Weak: O Lord heal me, for my bones are vexed Psal: 6. 2

III.

••ave mercy upon me, O Lord, for I am weak: O Lord, heal me, for my bones are vexed. Psal. 6. 2.

SHall my just grief be querulous, or mute, Full of Disease, of Physick destitute! ••ought thy Love so constant heretofore, ••at Vows were needless to confirm me more: ••d dost thou now absent, and slight my pain! ••at fault of mine has caus'd this cold Disdain? O blest Physitian of my love-sick Soul, ••ose sight alone will make thy Patient whole; ••ou who hast caus'd, canst thou forget my grief, ••ich only from its Author seeks relief? Shou'd they whose Art gave dying Fame new breath; ••d rescu'd their surviving names from Death: ••y in whose sight no bold Disease durst stand •• trembling vanish'd at their least command;

They who each Simples sov'rein Virtue knew, And to their ends cou'd well apply them too: Shou'd they their skill in tedious Consult try, All, all wou'd fail to ease my misery; All their Prescriptions without Thine are vain, Thine only sute the nature of my pain. Thou who hast caus'd, canst thou forget my gri•• Which only from its Author seeks relief!

See! my parch'd tongue my bodies flame decla•• And my quick Pulse proclaims intestine Wars; While so much blood's profusely spent within, That not one drop can in my cheeks be seen; And the same Pulse that gave the brisk Allarms, Beats a dead March in my dejected Arms: My Doctors sigh, and shrugging take their leave, And me to Heav'n and a cold Grave bequeath, While more than they the fatal sense I feel Of my lost health, and their succesless skill.

What can the Patient hope, when sad despair Discourages the lost Physician's care!

••e subtle Poyson creeps through all my Veins, ••nd in my Bones the fierce Infection reigns: ••y drooping head flies to my hands for aid, ••t by the feeble Props is soon betray'd: ••ow my last breath is ready to expire, ••nd I must next to Deaths dark Cell retire. ••ainly I strive my other pains to tell, ••or they (alas!) are unaccountable. •• this forlorn unpity'd state I lie, ••hile he who can relieve me, lets me die. ••y Face is strange, and out of knowledg grown, ••v'n I am scarce perswaded 'tis my own. ••y Eyes have shrunk for shelter in my head, ••nd on my Cheek the Rose hangs pale and dead. ••o pow'r cou'd drive the fierce Disease away, ••or force the plundring Conqu'rour from his prey.

My Wounds—But oh! that word has pierc'd my heart, ••he very mention does renew their smart; ••y Wounds gape wide, as they wou'd let in Death, ••nd make quick passage for my flitting breath:

Nor can they ev'n the lightest touch endure, But dread the hand that wou'd attempt their C•• For, Lord, my Wounds are from the Darts of •• That rage and torture my griev'd Soul within. Here a hydropick thirst of Riches reigns, And there Prides flatuous humor puffs my veins Next frantick Passion plays the Tyrants part, And Loves o're-spreading Cancer gnaws my hea•• Oft' to the learn'd I made my suff'rings known, Oft' try'd their skill, but found redress from none Not all the virtue of Bethesda's Pool, Without thy help, could ever make me whole: Then to what healing Altar shou'd I fly, But that whose prostrate Victims never die? To Thee, Health-giver to the world, I kneel, Who most canst pity what thy self didst feel: There's no sound part in all my tortur'd Soul; But, if thou wilt, Lord, thou canst make me whole. See how by Thieves I spoil'd and wounded am! Forget not then thy good Samaritan: My fainting Spirits with rich Wine revive, And for my Wounds some Balm of Gilead give:

Then take me home, lest if I here remain, My Foes return, and make thy succour vain.

Aug. de Verb. Dom. Serm. 55. cap. 55: The whole World, from East to West, lies very sick; but to cure this very sick World, there descends an Omnipotent Physician, who humbled himself even to the Assumption of a mortal body, as if he had gone into the bed of the diseased.