Immanuel, or, The mistery of God, manifested in the flesh sung in the severall cantoes of Urania, Astræa, Melpomene / by Will. Wishartt ...

URANIA.

Here doth a worm-ling to his wondrous maker His Soules best service and affections sacre. A Lyon to a Lamb prepares the Way. The Angel Gabriel greets great Bethleem's May The chast Parthenia bringeth forth her Son. Immanuel's seal'd by Circumcision. A blazing Star makes Sages seek their King. In Ramah Rachel weeps, and scornes to sing.

The Rogation.

CANTO 1^o.

THE very Heav'ns are in thy sight impure, O thou dread Soveraign of all Creature! Thy Wisdom's such, and eke thy pow'r so large That thou layst folly to the Angells charge: O then! how idly foolish and how vain A thing is man, ev'n in his choycest strain? Whose habitation is in dust and clay, Where Vanity beares such imperiall sway As mak•• his strength but weaknes; wisdom, folly; Thoughts, fond; and actions, ev'ry way unholy:

How canst thou then, thou sacred strong of strongs, To whom untainted Majesty belongs, Once sip the runnals of that source, whence gall Springs up from Worm-woods poysond Minerall; Or heare the cryes which wretched hee poures out, Whose best apparell is a men struous clout? No, sure I am it cannot bee, but thou Who, in thy self, art still unchang'd and true, Must on some rarer object fix thine eyes E'r thou dispense with our impieties; Yea, sure I am, it is that Lamb, alone, Who joynd with thee in triple-union, Whose intercession, and sweet warbling ayrs Makes thee attend the tenour of our Prayers.

Look therfore, great GOD, on that Lamb whose cry Speaks better things then Abel's butchery, Look on that blood, which spred on Israel's doores Saves from that Plague which Pharaoh's sons devoures: Look on that thred, which being tied about Zarah's right hand, inspr'd him to come out, Holding his brothers heel in's grapling fist To testify hee strugled to bee blest; And finally, look on that scarlet Lace Which ti'd to Rachab's window, gave her Peace Amidst that foyl, and death-denouncing wound Which Jericho's vain-glory did confound: Look on all those, and through all those on me, In him whom those did all presignifie, And by thy Spirit, enrich this spirit of mine With learned Judgement, and with Art divine, That whilst I undertake this task, to tell The World, how her dread Lord Immanuel

Thy eternal Word; yea, thy eternal Son, Was made in Time our very flesh and bone; I may dilate that story in such guise As may enforce the learnd, the sage, the wise, To leade the Squadrons of their carnall-sense All captivate to thy obedience.

And, to this end, rowse thou my minde on high, Teach thou my hands to touch, and eys to see The secrets of thy sweet-coelestiall-Court, Which may my Soule above the Pole transport In such a sort, that whilst the Poetasters Of brain-sick passions, and of fond disasters Doe ravish worldly minds, and muddy brains With forged sighs, false teares, and feined strains Of wanton Love, lascivious shews and songs, Vain Madrigals, dissembling woes and wrongs; My Muse, quit-claming the Castalian Font, Where the Pyerian maids, of old, were wont To sip their Nectar: And those swelling tops Of Pindus and Parnassus, whose sweet drops Ravish'd great Homer, by their sacred kisses, To sing Achilles and the wise Ʋlysses; Made Maro from his Mantua to descry The sighs of Dido, and the sack of Troy; And taught Love's pander in a ravish'd trance, To vent his fabulous Metamorphos'd dance: I may with sacred measures, notes and numbers, Which on sublunar-themes nor sleeps nor slumbers, The grave sweet honors, and th'eternall praises Of my Redeemer rouse from errors mazes; So, whilst that some their pens and pains inure To limb the Gnydian Idols pourtrature,

And in the vains of their lascivious rime Make Cupid prince, and Genius of the time; Whilst others subjects are but fictions, dreams, Imaginations and conceited theames, Cloath'd up in such a charming phrase, that vice Robs virtue of her chaire, shee looks so nice:

My care may bee t'unfold that boundles Ocean Of Peace, of Mercy, and of Lovesick-motion, VVherewith the Man-God, my Redeemer, hath Releas'd my Darling, both from Sin and Death:

But since my wit is weake, my pen unable, My judgment shallow, and my hand unstable To give a true characterizing strain Unto thy Greatnes, Goodnes, Mercies-Main, O grant, that whilst thou openest thus my mouth T'unfold the Tenor of thy sacred Truth, I bee not like those stones which by the way Unmov'd themselves, the beaten rode display; Nor like that Canall, and that watry Spout VVhich from the fountaine to it's bubling snout Conveys pure streams of coole refreshing water For th'use of others, whilst it self's no better: No, first inform my mind, then cleer mine eye That I may learn what depth of Deiry Thy VVisdome hath entrencht within the Vail Of flesh, and made it there reside and dwell: Then touch my lips, and guide my babling pen, That I may warble to the sons of men The sweet Hyblaean Nectar of thy Powre That brings us sweetnes from our bitter-sowre; So shall I teach thy Saints thy waies aright, Whilst thy all-seeing eye vouchsafes mee sight.

The Prodrome.

CANTO. 2^o.

I Sing the wonders of that wondrous GOD, Who being essentially one is Trin'ly od, Not in that first born Word-begotten Mater Whose after-byrth was fire, ayre, earth and water, From whom, and to whom, as their native sourse Time reconveys his childrings circled course: Nor gaze I, that re-colonizing Boat Wherein old Noah, twelve months pent, did float On steepe high Mountains, and Ryphaean woods, Like Neptune, trampling on those swallowing floods Which from Heav'ns-sluces, Earths hid vains, and Seas Deep-channels, did God's wrath anatomize. Nor minde I now to lim that wondrous Love, Which burning in Elohim's brest above, Did Shem and Heber's sacred line re-bring From Shinar's soyl, and fayre Euphrates spring T'attend the loadstar of th'Eternals call, Amidst those plains where Jordan's course doth craule; Nor shall my bubling pen those plagues expresse Which from the heav'ns in wraths enrag'd excesse On Z••an's field, and Mizraim's flowry Tent Were, as postilions, of their wrath down sent:

Nor sing I those divine decrees and wonders, VVhose voice contemper'd with a thousand thunders, Breeds more respect in Israel's haughty heart, VVho notwithstanding acts the truants part, Then all those Lawes which Numa could afford, Or yet the Spartane or Cecropian Lord:* 1.1 No, those already, have in matchlesse Ore Traverst both Vestae's lap, and Thetis shore, And by the pencill of a glorious Gawl* 1.2 Have drawn the curtain of our azur'd All In such a sort, that time shall never bring So sweet a draught from Hippocrene's spring, Save that, which Albian's Mercury Trismegist* 1.3 Hath quintessenc'd from Ampelonaes brest: No, no, my care shall bee, in heav'n-bred trance To gaze his more then wondrous excellence, From whom, all things, as from their common father, Doe all their essence and their being gather; That true beginning, midst, and end of all VVho but beginning, midst, or end, at all, Is, ground and top of that uncoupled chaine VVhich links poore sinners to their Soveraign: The blessed Son I sing of God and Man, VVho born in time, yet was ere time began The Son of God, th'eternall living rock And royall off-spring of great David's stock; That blest Redeemer, whom the Prophets old, By heav'n-bred revelations oft foretold, On whom their figures, shadowes, Types and Tropes Built all their truths, moralities and hopes; The God of Gods, I sing; and King of Kings From out whose mouth a two ed'd smyter-springs,

Dividing twixt the marrow and the bones, And manifesting th'hearts hid motions; VVhose words are misteries, whose works are wonders, VVhose eyes are lightnings, and whose voice is thunders, VVhose hayres are whiter then the new faln snow, Whose sparkling eyes like flames of fire doe glow, VVhose loynes are girt with gold of better fine Then Titan lusters in his mid-day shine, VVhose foot's of burning brasse, and trampleth down The rage of Lethe, Styx and Acharon: Him, him I sing, Earth, Earth attend my song, That so the hony-suckles of my Tongue, May, like those showres which on the Meads doe trill Celestiall Nectar, to the world distill: For though my pen in peace should snort and ly, The Rocks, the Mountains, and the Stones would cry. Crant therfore, ô my God, Grant, grant betimes Peace to my Soule, and soule unto my Rhimes, Yea, quintessence my soule, and eke advance My care-free spirit in some celestiall trance, That, purg'd from passion, thy divine addresse May guide me through this desert wildernesse Of humane weaknesse, that my Pen (from thee) And Lines may borrow such a dignity, As may expresse in lofty quavering songs The lofty prayse which unto thee belongs. But stay my Muse, and lanch not to the Ocean VVhose never ebbing Tide and restles motion No Pilot yet could know aright, or keep Himself from Naufrage in so vast a deep; For this is sure, That in this voyage stands Charybdis gulfe, and Scilla's shelf and sands;

'Twixt which, the whistlings of an easie gale Must guide thy Bark, and not a blustrous sale: Yet keep not alwaies peace, my Muse, for now 'Tis time to cleere thy care-eclipsed brow, And by the numbers of thy sacred fury To stray along th'enamel'd coasts of Jurie; Goe then from Dan to Bethel, thence anon To Aroer, Keilah, Adullam, Ziff, Maone, To Shilo, Gilgall, Mizphe, Ramah, Nob, And these sky-threatning towr's, whose spires doe rob Their white from Pelops shoulder, and their Ore From Peru, Ganges, and Hydaspes shore; And while thou viewst those coasts and pleasant fields Which milk and hony in abundance yeelds, Vaile, vaile thy top-saile, and in rev'rence greet That sacred Flamyn, whose heav'n-ravish'd sp'rit Doth at Joves Altar with a zeale-bred fire Evaporat his Soules sincere desire.

Haile flowry Jordan then, and you sweet torrents Of christall-water, whose Meandring currents So many Saints have sip'd; and O thou soyl, Whose arms gave rest from that tumultuous toyl Wherein our Fathers forty yeers did stray; And O you sacred-walls, where eft-soon lay That mighty God and Man, whose chrimson shower From out his side, made him our Saviour; Yea, O you hills, you dales and fields each one, Where Earths-sole-Phoenix, Heav'ns-true-Paragon Did, from his Cradle to his Crosse, endure Our sinnes-disease, and griefs-distemp'rature: Haile, haile: I cry you all a glad good morrow, Let neither blustring winds, nor rain-bred sorrow

Your Meads unflowre, or yet your woods disleave, Or choak your torrents in their bubling grave: No, let nor haile, nor snow, nor frost, nor Ice, By their tumultuous violent prejudice Your brows enage, or yet your Tresses scorne, Till from your tops your golden fleece be shorn: But rather let the heav'ns, with smiling face, Your Nayids and your Napa's, so embrace, That by the tincture of their milk-sweet raine Your floury virdure may still fresh remaine, As long as Titan takes delight to post From Japan to the great Herculaean coast.

But above all; Hail, hail, thou ghostly-Father,* 1.4 Th'Almighties Flamin, his anoynted rather; Ev'n thou, who by thy lot, within this shrine, With hallowed Judgment and with Art divine Attendst thy service, and observ'st thy station, To expiat Israels sinfull conversation.

O how my ravish'd Soule doth now admire The glorious fabrick of this glorious Quire Wherein thou standst! for Porphyr, Gold and Mabre Strive t'eternize the curious workman's-labor; No, whilst within this house, my greedy eye Doth glut her self on Arts brave industry, No sooner can I rest my thoughts upon This carved seiling, or that graven stone, But lo, a rare, rare Deity ties my Sense To ruminat his matchlesse eminence; For whilst I call that Majesty to minde, Whose grace and glory, peace and truth hath shin'd Within those walls, what need I more to seek Nile's Hyeroglyphicks, or the Delphian Creek,

The Rabbi••-Talmud, characters of Perss, Turks Alcaron, or Sybillaean verse: No, those are all but fancies and inventions Of humane frailties, and of frail intentions, Which, like their owners, perish in that rust Which Time and Canker portrays in the dust: But here, and here alone, I know, within These vaulted-Arches; Man, infect with Sin, May read the Programs of th'Eternal's Love, Made manifest for Adam's sonns behove.

Son, saith the Syre, what proud ambitious strain Hath led thee hither, that thou shouldst prophane Jehovah's sacrifice and solemn Rite, With babling Riddles of a brain-sick sprite; Look but, I pray thee, what dread adorations The Idoll godlings of the godles Nations Require within their shrines and shadowing Grove, And thence learn thou to dread th'Almighty Jove: Shall Jupiter, Ammonius or Apollo, Or wandring Cynthea, whom the Sylvans follow At Daphne's trypod; Dodona, or there Whereas th'Argolick sages did repair Require a grave and reverend Majesty To enact their hel-born magick mystery? And shall not he (who's one and trinally od, Of kings chief King; and, above all gods, God) Receive a reverend form and sacred guize Of worship in his daily Sacrifice? Or tell me Son, have nere thy eares as yet Heard how his Ark did scaily Dagon smit, And all the Princes (with a deadly wound) In Ashdod, Gath, and Ekrons coasts confound?

Or knowst thou not poore Ʋzzah's fatall storie? Or Abthu, and Nadab's fatall glorie? Who in their vain presumptions fell, and falling Bid man observe the compasse of his calling? All those stand written in truth's sacred book That wee may read (when upon them wee look) His fearfull glory, and unapproched might, Who sets us in his never slumbring sight; Out therfore, get thee out from hence, and stand With Israel, in his porch, whose heav'd up hand, Dejected heart, and humbly-patient ey Attends the Missa of this Mistery.

At this rebuke I goe, yet scarce am gone, When loe, the relicts of a mourning groane Cut in a thousand parcells, seems to call Mee back, to gaze some divine spectacle; Returning then amazd, behold I finde, After the rushing of a mighty winde A light ore-shadow Zachary more cleere Then that which gilds our mid-daies hemispheere, In midst whereof, at Zacharies right hand, Behold a glorious Cherubim doth stand, Whose smiling eyes and countenance excels All human beauties, and all creatures els; About his head a semi-circled Crown Of Iris parti-colour'd coat was drawn, Which to my poore amazed wandring eyn Seem'd dy'd in opall, yellow, blue, and green: The curled hayrs which on his head doe grow, Are whiter far then new faln flaughts of snow, 'Twixt which the sparks of gold bespangled brands Makes Ganges blush, and Tagus loath her sands;

His eys like stars, in dark Cymerian night, Dart forth their flashings with a wondrous light, And like that troop which trips about the Pole, In restles wandrings here and there they role; Next this, with two Seraphick wings he flies, Whereon the heav'ns have daind t'immortalize Their rarest beauties, in the rarest hue Of crimson red, and pure vermilion blue; Down from his middle, to his feet, is drawn A pretious vail more cleere then any lawn, On which stands portray'd, by celestiall Art, That love-sick Foule which tares her tender heart And yeelds a Runnall of her deerest blood To glut her Paricids amidst their food; A little lower, Jesse's son doth stand With peeble stones, and sling-staffe in his hand, Trampling Goliah's glory in the dust, Who in his strength and sinnewy force did trust: Loe here the Phoenix aromatick cole Burns her to dust, and yet revives her soule; And there Arachne from her belly spins The tissue-mantle that obscures our sins: These and a thousand other severall passions Of severall figures, severall forms and fashions Stand checker'd all, as emblems of that Love Which weds our frailties to a spotles Jove.

At this great sight old Zachary stands mute, Confus'dly amaz'd, amaz'dly irresolute, For, by a pallid ghostly feare, his sense Of speech and hearing, lose their influence, At last, like to the Delian Princess, when She fluttereth over the Atlantick Ocean,

He curbs the fit that conquer'd him before, And to his reason thus he opes the dore.

O! what is this that I behold, faith he, Is this a fain'd evanishing Majesty Of Molech, Milcom, Chamosh, Ashtaroth, Of Baal, Dagon, or that spirit which doth (Transform'd in light) bewitch, with darknes spell, Those howling ghosts which on Earths center dwell? No, sure I am, those Idols are not such, They neither heare, nor see, nor talk, nor touch, They smell not, taste not, and in all their bands There is no heart that knows or understands: As for that hellish Prince, or fearfull spirit, Lights hatefull foe, who darknes doth inherit, I know that here he never dare aspire To view the secrets of this sacred fire, Whose Censers in their sweet exhaling cloud Presignifie, that Shiloe in his blood Shall such a fragrant Sacrifice reveale As shall bruise down the head that bites his heele. What then, it is some vision sent from heav'n? But those have ceas'd, and our deserts have driv'n That sacred Chore and great Angelick train To shun the lewd societies of Men.

Whilst thus old Zachary's mutinous thoughts are all Beleaguer'd by Opinion's Generall, Feare: Hee whose feare restrains the Lions jaws, And curbs the rigour of the Tygers paws Cries, by his Angell, Zachary feare no more, For lo thy prayer's heard, and come before His glorious eyes, who shuts our tears each one In bottles of due retribution:

Recall therefore thy Spirits from gates of death, For, lo thy barren wife Elizabeth Shall beare a Son, and thou shalt call him John, Heavn's holy-Ghost shall alwaies rest upon His head, and his celestiall pow'r shall sacre Thy Son, a Minion to the worlds great Maker: Nor wine, nor strong drink shall hee taste at all, Nor shall a rasor make his tresse to fall, But as a Nazarite both in name and spirit, He shall Eliah's talent re-inherit, And as a Lyon he shall roare and cry, Prepare before Messiah's face the way. In him thou shalt rejoyce; for many one, Jew, Prosolyte, and far-bred nation Shall joy in him, for by his heav'nly Art He shall the sinner from his sinnes convert; He shall the father to the son rejoyn, The son gainst father shall no more repine, Each lofty Mountain and declining vally Through which our bubling brooks doe crawl and dally, Shall change their state, for those shall be made low, And these exalted to an eminent show, Things rough shall be made smooth, things crooked streight, And on rous things shall lose their pondrous weight, And all the sucklings sleeps in natures lap Shall see the lightning of his thunder-clap, That all the world may learn t'adore and kis Immanuel, whose harbenger he is.

O how can't bee, saies Zachary, that I Whose loynes are fruitles, juceles, barren, dry; Or that my wife Elizabeth, whose raines Have stopt the fruitfull current of their vains

Should recollect, recover and rebring A living Runnal from a wither'd Spring.

No Zachary, saith the Angell, know that hee Whose glory, wisdom, pow'r and Majesty Turns heav'ns bright Sphears about earths drossy ball, Shall make thy tragick-Theatre comicall; And lest, that like a bull rush beaten reed, Thy faith should faint, or hope should lose her Creed, Recall the memoyr's of the daies of old, How Nature hath been by his pow'r control'd, And thou shalt see, that to the supreme powrs VVee stand subjected, and what ere is our.

For, let mee ask, whence comes these Nectar'd drops? Which, like pure Balme, doe drench Pomonaes tops; Who makes the Oceans mutinous waves reflote? Or who enamels Vestaes petticote? VVho doth the fields refresh, or flowrs re-flowr? Who, Bride-like, busks Apolloes Paramour? Who leads brave Titan captive through the sky? Or who decks Cynthia with a silver dy? Who brings old Boreas from his frozen Cave, Who makes his furie all the world out-brave? Who can command the light, in darknes Camp, To checker portraits in a dornick Champ? Or who can shut again Lights glistring ey, To snort in midst of darknes Canopy? All these, like antient Hieroglyphicks, may God's wondrous power to the world display: But since thou by a faithles feare, wilt try His might, goe mannage thy security By Sarahs loynes, the faithfull Abraham's wife, Whose barren belly is a well of life;

Behold Rebecca, and the barren Anna Mother to Samuel, wife to Elkana; And by the histoyr' of their strange exchange Command thy reason, and thy sense t'estrange Their course from Nature, and repose alone Thy faith and hope, ev'n against hope, upon His never failing word, whose power can frame, From senslesse stones, a seed to Abraham. 'Tis true, that Nature, since the world began, Strugleth 'gainst Faith, within the naturall man; And, like a mutinous Hagar, strives to steal The lot, from Isaack, to her Ishmael: And he, who hath not learned to deny Himselfe, his reason, wit, and industry, And with the welcome of affections kisse Submit himselfe to God, and all that's his; May well expect, but never shall embrace The dignities of Glory, or of Grace. And now, since by a further doubting thou Hast call'd his word in doubt, who's only true, Loe I, who stand before his glorious eyes Who, though unseen himselfe, yet all things sees, Must tell thee, that till these things come to passe Which he hath spoke, who shall be, is, and was, This just deserved Rod on thee shall fall, That thou shalt neither heare, nor speake at all, But shalt be dumb, till with thine eyes thou see Th'accomplishment of this my Heraldrie.

Thus, having with dread Majestie engraven In Zacharies heart, this sowre-sweet-newes from heaven, Like lightning, when it darts alongst the skies, His wings support him, and away he flies.

The Annunciation.

CANTO 3^o.

STay, stay your course, you christall heav'ns; and you Swift rolling Sphears, whose vaulted Arches bow An azur'd brave Pavilion o're Ear ths bail: Stay, stay your motions, sweetly musicall. Arrest your course likewise, you twinckling starrs, Who dallying in your gold rich ammel'd Carrs Doe, like brave Torches, and still burning Tapers, Light natures Chappell at her ev'ning Vespers; And Amphitrite, thou where Syrens dwells, And celebrate their Nymph-like festivalls, Braule thou no more in that tumultuous guize, That sacks the Merchant's far fetch'd Indian prize, But like a Bride, who knows her Bride-groom's diet, Greet thou thy Neptune with a sacred quiet; And whilst thy waiting hand maids-cristall brooks Desert their Fountains and their floury crooks, To bring a Consort of their watry Calls To gratulate thy Nymph-like Nuptialls, Then clasp them in thine arms with joyfull heast, And bid them welcome to thy Virgin feast, Till reconvey'd with Tritons for their trayne Thou sendst them to their bubling sourse againe:

Empamper'd Vesta, on whose embroider'd kirtle Hangs Alloes, Cassia, Spicknard, Balme, and Mirtle, Carowse that Nectar which the Heav'ns doe weep To all those sucklings in thy lap doe sleep, That they may dance, amidst thy pearlelike shower, A Masquedrade before thy Paramour. Thus, like a bold-fac'd Herald, I proclame To Nature, and her Universall frame, Ev'n from Boötes in his whirling Carre, To pale Orion's tempest boding Starre, A sacred quiet, and a sweet cessation From all their influence, course, and operation, Till he, whose Royall and Imperiall Throne Transcends our azur'd skies, and heav'ns each one, Doe, from the Senate of his own good pleasure Send Man the Message of his Soules rich treasure: Sixe times hath now faire Phaebe cut a caper In opposition to her brothers Taper; And six times couch'd againe, within his armes, Sh'hath glut her selfe with his delightfull charmes, Since, earst, a heav'n-born Legat hath declar'd To Zachary, That, for his faiths reward, From out his wife Eliz'beths barren wombe The great Messiahs Prodrome, John, should come: Now, now, Time big with fulnesse, doth require That he, who first did blow our Soules bright fire, Should contribute truth, life, and light unto Those shady Tipes which did his Sonne foreshow, That so the gracelesse World, by him, might plant Within their hearts his gracious Covenant.

Time then being full, Night, in a sad Sea-green Or pitchy-purpled mantle, like Deaths Queen,

Had tane her Brother Morpheus Mace in hand, And sent a drowsie rest over all the Land: The ever-sacred, ever Virgin-mother, Whose glory neither heav'n nor earth can smother, Great Arimathea's joy, and Bethels Crowne, And Palestina's dread, sweet, rich Renowne, Still ruminating heav'ns unshun'd decree, How from a Virgins belly there should flee A Soule dread Monarch, and Celestiall Prince Whose blood should purge our leprous foule offence! Prevent the rosie mornings warbling train, And hyes her to a neighboring Grove amain, That there, in darknesse shady lap, she might In divine contemplations spend the night. Yet stay, my Muse, stay but a little while, And view this grove, which Eden-like doth smile; That by the survey of so sweet a shade My muse may some way make my Reader glad.

Neare to that place whence hoary Jordane slides From Hermons hill, and makes his twin-born Tides To meet in Marons lap, in view doth lye The ever fruitfull pleasant Galily, Whose right hand's dipt in those tumultuous waves Which, by Tiberius name, the world out-braves; And in her left hand, for a nose-gay, hath The Cedar sweetl'ore shaded Nazareth: Here, scarce a furlong from her Eastern gates, VVhich on the new-born Titans rayes awaits, Nature hath formed, though with artlesse Art, A Grove, in whose each portion and each part There's such a modell of her power inborn, As, matchd with this, laughs all the world to scorn:

For, here, the clymat sweetly temper'd hot, Hath thrust away the winters petticoat, And like a Lover, in a flourishing green, Makes lusty May continually be seen: Yet least the scorching blinks of Titan's ey Should parch or wither Florae's tapestry, Sweet Zephyr sends a musky sighing breath To shelter Vesta from the Lyon's wrath: Here long liv'd Oaks, and noble Palm-trees sprayes, With amorous Myrtles, and immortall bayes, Never disleav'd, but still re-growing, new, Their clasped arms in thousand Arbors threw; There still did dangle to the gazers eyn A thousand fruits, some sweetly ripe, some green, Which in their colour, taste and shape did mock The Lemon, Orange, and the Apricock: Ayr's daughter Eccho, which the woods doth haunt, From high rebabling Rocks doth here rechaunt The sweet contemper'd Notes and maryed layes, Which Linots, Larks, and Nightingales displayes; All which amidst their warblings, flat and sharp, Exceeds Arion's, or the Thracian's harp, And yeelds a descant sweeter far than that Which Linus or Amphyon modulat: Anon, along this grove, in pompe doth slide A Runnell with a rofie broydered side, Whose sand's pure gold, whose peeble's pretious stones, Whose chiding murmurs were majestick grones, And whose least draught is sweeter then that drink, That now, in Creta, decks Cerathus brink: Here down she lies, beside those streams, whose gush∣ing Makes sweeter musick with their gentle rushing

Then Juball's hammers, when they fram'd that sound Whence Syren-musick's Gam-Ʋt first was found; And sadly sitting in this grove alone, She lends her eare to that division Which from the murmuring brook's sad accent flows, And thence unto a higher strain she throws Her contemplation, yea, from thence shee scales, And censures heav'ns imperiall festivals.

Father, says shee, of light and learned Arts, Great all of all, who unto all imparts Some parcell of thy selfe, that thou alone Maist still be all in all's Communion: Voutchsafe to heare thy hand-maids voice a space, Who truly humbled, here, before thy face Doth lick the dust, at thy imperiall feet To testifie that her poor heart's contrite.

Whence comth't that these poore drops of christall water, Which Earth, from out her hollow brests, doth scatter Can yeeld so sweet bewitching notes, and sound, As turns the wanton's-myrth, t'a-harts deep wound? Or whence com'th't that those byrds, whose artles bill With C-sol. Fa-uth's notes the Spheeres doe fill, Doe greet th' approach of lights advanc'd cariere With sweeter strains than Art instructs his quire? What? have those creatures force, or pow'r at all Coutch'd in their bosoms, that can eyther thrall The giddy minde to taste a sober quiet, Or rouse th' afflicted from their dismall diet? No no, 'tis thou (and thou alone) whose voyce Can make the Soule to feare, or yet rejoyce: For as thy hand hath form'd the heart in Man, And as thy eyes from highest heav'ns doe scan

Our hidden reynes; so, by thy pow'r thou guides Our Soules swift current, in their severall tides; For whilst thy iight and countenance doth shine With Sextile aspect, Quadrat, or with Tryne, On our dark hearts; O how they joy t' advance Their light, before thy' lightning countenance! And whilst, again, Sins drossie globe doth stand Just interpos'd betwixt thy shining brand And our dark hearts, O then Cymerian-night Succeeds in lieu of thy celestiall light: Hence, by that sweetnes which wee find in thee, Wee loathe the blinks of natur's royaltie, And find her treasures but a bubling sourse, Which from thee, for thee, to thee bends its' course: Hence flow our griefs, hence brookes and desert dales, With seeming murmurs, pittiously bewailes Thy absence, and their mourning sables weare Till thou return, and cleere their hemispheere: Come therefore thou A lmighty-Spirit of spirits, Great-Light of lights, whose Majesty inherits That wondrous Light, to which, no flesh attains, Which in this muddy vail of flesh remains: Come, come I say, and by thy Spirit inspire This Spirit of mine with thy celestiall fire; That in thy Light my Soule may cleerly see That great unsearched Deep of Majestie, Which, dwelling in thee, doth exchange my story Of Death and Darknes, to true Light and Glory.

Scarce hath she from the flames of zeale-bred fire Evaporat these accents of desire, When loe, from heav'ns high Senate, there doth fly A Legat of Hierarkick Majesty,

Who, with due reverence, and obsequious Rites, The blessed Virgin thus salutes and greets.

Hail sacred Nymph; Haile Virgin-Bride, and thou On whom the heav'ns dread Soveraign doth allow The favor of a freely-granted grace, The Lord's with thee, rest therfore still in peace; Blessed bee thou, and blest beyond all those That ere from Grandam-Evahs loyns arose: Let Heav'ns thy blisse extend as farre, inscorn Of Earths best hap, as ev'r the pearly Morn, The radiant Noon, or rheumy Ev'n can see Or Neptunes brauls, or Vestaes tapestrie: For, from thy wombe a Monarch-Prince shall spring, Sinne, death, and hells eternall taming King; The sacred Founder of mans Soveraign blisse, The worlds rich Ransome, Peace, and Righteousnes; He shall be called Great, and Strong of strongs, The most high Sonne, to whom of due belongs The keyes of David, Solomon's Ivory Throne, And Jacob's Lot-divided-tents each one; His shafts shall thrill the foes which him assaile, His force shall all th'Infernall furies quaile; Each knee in heav'n and earth shall to him bow, And every tongue confesse him God most true; For by his blood he re-unites again Earths wandring Subjects to their Soveraign.

Looke how one daz'led with the splendor bright Of Titan's rayes, being lately brought to light From darknesse of a black Cymerian deep, Where nev'r a Cranny suffer'd light to peep; Being too too soon re-cleer'd, stands gazing so As one disself'd, and doubtfull where to goe:

Ev'n so the Maid, at this unlook'd-for tale, Halfe dead with terrour, first growes ashy pale; Then re-comforted, with dejected eyes First views her Nuntio, and then thus replyes:

O, how can't be, that I, within whose brest Lusts sparkling flames did never plead for rest; Whose Virgin-modest, chaste, and tender eare Did nev'r infamous Ruffian bablings heare; Yea, I, whose thoughts unsported nev'r was wed To th' wanton pleasures of a Mariage bed, Should bud such blossoms, or such fruits forth bring As makes the barren to rejoyce and sing!

Peace Mary, saith the Angell, peace, and feare not; The Holy Ghost ore-shaddowes thee; then dare not With curious search of humane Reason's strength To limit him, whose wayes, for breadth and length, For height and depth, are all a boundlesse treasure, Acknowledging no limit, bound, nor measure: For, willt thou look on his unsearched Spirit, Invisible, immortall, infinit, All Majesty, all self-omnipotent, Pure, wise, just, good, impassive, excellent, Eternall Monarch, All-commanding all, End of all ends, of Firsts th'Originall, Great Light of lights, Cause of all causes, and Chiefe Life of lifes, unseen, all-seeing brand, Who, e'r the Worlds Idaea first was fram'd, E'r Eurus blew, e'r Seas or Earth was nam'd; Ev'n from Eternity, did in One combine One Trine-une essence, one essentiall Trine: Him shalt thou finde, e'r Time could stretch his station, In unsearch'd, deep, eternall Observation

Fore-know his creatures in their severall ends And severall courses, that the same attends; Yea, as his aye and all fore-seeing eye, Fore-knew his creatures from eternity: So hath hee made his pleasure and good will A still enflamed Limbeck, wherein till Mans waies are so confin'd, compos'd, control'd, That all his Mercure's turn'd to perfect gold: This is his work, though wondrous in our eyes, Ev'n his whose throne transcends our starry skies, From contrair's to extract a contrair' story, Whose contestation still effects his glory: Thus did he, in the worlds first byrth, forth bring This universall-All from out nothing, And, by his word, hee made lights glistring Lamp Shine in the midst of darknes shady Camp: Thus doth he now in times last time, from far, Call things that are not, ev'n as though they were, And makes his Mercy sup'r abound in store, Where Sins abundant plenty dwelt before. No, heare mee Virgin, pause; for pause thou must, Hee that revives the Phoenix from her dust, Hee that from darknesse center springs the day, Hee that from gates of death doth life display, And he, who, without woman, first did make Of Adams rib, an Evah, for his sake, Shall without knowledge of a Man provide To make the' a-sacred Mother, Virgin, Bride: Thus spoke hee, and then disappears; and now The maid's alone, who on her knees doth bow, And with her hands lift up to heav'ns high throne, She sighs this sacred exultation.

Loe here I am, thy servant, mighty Lord, Bee't unto mee according to thy word, If thou on mee hast plac'd thy hearts delight, Then let thy hand-maid prosper in thy sight; Yet, O thou great and everlasting Father, How shall I wonder, or evanish rather At this thy wondrous work thou dost expresse On mee, the chiefest worm of wretchednesse! For thou hast look'd upon the base condition Of mee, thy servant, in so wondrous fashion, That henceforth all succeeding times shall call Mee bless'd, because of this memoriall: Thy mighty hand hath done for mee great things, And great's thy name, thou royall King of kings, For, by the strength of thy right hand, thou scatters Man's vain imaginations like spilt waters, Thou thrust'st the mighty down from Iv'ry seats, And makst the abject to possesse their states, Thou fill'st the hungry with thy blessings store, And mak'st the full through penury to roare, Thou mak'st thy promise a continuall creede To Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and their feede: Yea from the stem of Jesse thou mak'st known, To all that feare thee' thy salvation: Bless'd bee thou then, thou God of Israel, who Hast visit and redeem'd thy people, so That by the splendor of that Bright day star Which thou hast made to shine, both neer and far, The tender mercies of our tender God In wondrous plenty visits us abroad, And gives us matter (while the world's great frame Endures) to prayse and magnifie thy Name.

Immanuel, or Puerperie.

CANTO 4^o.

GReat God, who by thy words great pow'r brought From nothing's-Chaos this our all things by rth; Great Spirit, whose secret certain prescience Fore-knows and guides all humane accidents; Eternall Light, from whose all-seeing ey Nothing is hid, no not eternity! If ere thou mad'st my silly simple Soule In sacred rage to rise above the Pole, Now, now reflect, bright Sun, thy golden rayes On my poore Moone, eclips'd by thy delays; Ravish my Spirit, Life of my Soule, revive My starving thoughts, that I may truly give A perfect strain, and perfectly record The Incarnation of thy 'ternall Word, That so in sacred fury I may limbe, Though with a coale, the first-born Prince of Time; And to the after-age in verse expresse God living, suffering, rising, in the flesh.

But, ay me! where shall stripling I begin T'unfold this Daedal' Labyriuth, wherein Nature shall sooner lose her selfe, then gain A steddy course amidst this Ocean:

For nature never hath as yet exprest His first-born being in th'Eternal's brest, And how shall humane wisdom now forth tell The second byrth-right of Immanuel? 'Tis true, some doating Atheists, big with tumors Of brain-sick Heresies, impoys'ning humors, Like blinde men, groaping in the day, have run By light of Nature, to display this Sun; But all in vain: the more they scan this point, The more they find their judgements out of joynt.

Here one, conceiting, God cannot be born,* 1.5 Hath therefore laught his Deity to scorn: Another, seeing him true Gods true Son,* 1.6 Denieth him Man by Incarnation: A third, beholding him both God and Man,* 1.7 Confounds his Natures by a naturall span: A fourth, enforc'd by force of truth to see* 1.8 God joyn'd with man in Pers'nall unitie, Hath, from his true distinguish'd Natures frame, Giv'n him two Hypostatick persons theame, Which, like Hippocrates undissever'd twins, Together quicken, live, dye, ends, begins. But hath not Esay much more cleerly told To Judahs King, that Time should once unfold* 1.9 From out a Virgins womb, a glorious Prince, Whose Passion should expiate our offence, Immanuel, God with us, and even Man of the Virgin, and a God from Heaven; Not God alone, but Man also; or rather God of himselfe, Sonne gotten of the Father; Both God and Man; in whom, both reall Natures Of God and Man, distinguish'd by true features

And severall functions, stands dissever'd so, As no division can their seat ore-throw; And so distinguish'd, that albe't there be Two Natures there distinguish'd really, Yet to averre two Persons thereupon Were Sathans dark prevarication.

No, no, Immanuel, and that God with us, Our Advocate, our Judge, and our Jesus, Abiding what he was, e'r Time; become In Time, what he was not; and being the same Was in our flesh, without Confusions wonder, Or rending of his Person ev'r asunder; Inaugurate by Heav'ns dread Monarchs love, A Prophet, Priest, and Prince, for our behove: A Prophet, by whose documents we learne The things which Nature never could discerne By force of Reason; for th'Almighty did In secret silence his best Counsels hide, Till his Eternall word, made flesh, should frame The glorious promulgation of the same: A Priest also the Virgins Sonne must be, T'accomplish the Almighties dread Decree Of Mercy and of Justice both, so that Th' Almighty might in both b'inviolat: A Soveraign Prince he needs must be also, To lead Captivity captive, and ore-throw That Prince of Darknesse, who by Sinnes proud hands Kept both our life and liberty in bands; That as by him, our feares, our foes, and all Captivities are captivate and thrall; So he, in God, may make us to possesse True Joy, true Peace, true Life, and Righteousnesse.

Stay then (poor Muse) thy course, soare not too high To search out that unsearched mysterie, To know whose great unparalell'd perfection No Flesh hath yet attain'd by flesh-direction: Content thy selfe in modesty to view His birth; and at his Pedestall to bow, Whose glorious light our darknesse doth expell, And being God, youchsafes with Men to dwell.

Come then, and in a safe approach behold Him whom the heav'n of heav'ns could not enfold, Now couch'd within a Crib, and make poor beasts The witnesse of his Genethliack feasts: A wake then, Bethleem, let me aske thee where Are all thy pleasant shades, and dainty fare? Thy sumptuous tables, and thy quilt-strawd beds Whereon thy guests of late did rest their heads? Where's now thy pomp, thou house of David? where Are love and mercy banished, that there Where Davids seed, and Davids Lord likewise Should dwell, thou shouldst his Royalty despise?

O, sure I am, it cannot be, but now The house of David only doth allow His name, but not his nature; for I see Ev n in the throng of his Posteritie, His Darling thrust to doores, and forc'd to lay The worlds dread Soveraign in a cratch of clay: But ô the deepnes, and the riches, both Of Wisedome and of Providence, that doth Shine in thy wayes (ô God) whil'st thou dost make Thy Counsels known, for our salvations sake! This pur-blind world doth think that Fortune guides, And Chance governs the ever-changing tides

Of humane actions, but 'tis nothing so; Live as wee list, and goe where ere we goe, Th'ore-ruling pleasure of thy secret will Governs our actions both in good and ill: In Nazareth Christ was conceiv'd, but loe In Bethleem he must be born, and shew Himself first Man, and there first breath our ayre, Who makes the bread of Life our Soules rich fare; That as he was a Naz'rite by conception, Both separate from sinne and sins infection, So he, in Bethleems magazen, might len' The bread of life unto the sonnes of men: One place must not engrosse him, who was born For all; no, that were mock'ry and base scorn, T'intrench his splendor in one private place, Whose rayes must cherish all the world with grace.

Rome, then, was Stage where worldly honors grew; Athens the Ocean where the Arts did flow; Jerusalem the great Pontificate Where Rabbins in the Chaire of Moses sate: But lo! for Bethleems sake he now disdaines The trophies of those Metropolitans: Not that the place could adde to his renown; For Place can neither dignifie nor crown The Person; but the Person doth decore, And make the Place more splendid then before: So he, who from out Darknesse did display The worlds first lustre, and baptiz'd it Day, Ev'n he who from out Deaths devouring jawes, And from the roaring Lions cruell pawes Makes lifes sweet well-spring richly to abonnd, From Penuries despised womb and wound;

Makes Righteousnesse and Mercy, Truth and Peace Each one another sweetly to embrace: In whatsoever chance or change, therefore, This mortall life involve me; the rich store Of his refining Providence shall still Enrich my Table, and my Cup full-fill; Yea, make me sleep in safe and quiet rest, Because he turneth all things to my best.

Yet let me stay a while, and view this change Which through the world in Triumphs pomp doth range And makes fair Sions sons, like Sinayes Clown, To yeeld due homage to a Strangers Crown: O God, whence comes this wondrous alteration? Whence springs the current of this desolation? That they who erst were blest in fleecy flocks, Whose Rivets were of milke, whose steepest Rocks Distill'd a hony sweeter then the Mead Whereon their nibling troops did prank and feed; Being blest at home, abroad, and in each plaine, Blest by the ayre, by sun-shine, and by raine, Whose force did daunt the Earth with trembling aw, Whose Scepter writ their neighboring States their law Whose terrour made their proudest enemies then 'Gainst them march one way, flye before them ten; Should now, as Vassals, sigh, and pant, and groan Under the load of strange Subjection; And bow their necks, to bear the grievous Loans Of Tributes, Taxes, Impositions?

O, now I see, 'tis not so much thy Care, Great Caesar, to augment thy glories share, That these importning cruell Subsidies, Like roaring thunders, through the world now flies;

As 'tis th' Almighties pleasure, now, even now, Because the time is full, from heav'n t'allow The worlds great Monarchy to thee; that so The sonnes of Jacob may discern and know The visitation of their look'd for Grace, And wisely learn the things which preach their Peace: For I must tell thee, Israel, that since Thy Diadem's subdu'd t'a forraign Prince, And since the Helm of thy Government stands Within the circuit of a Strangers hands, The time is come that Shilo's golden ray Should light thy darknesse, and begild thy day; And that the Star of Jacob now should shine Not in an earthly grandeur, but divine: Hence, hence it comes; yet in obedience strain The Virgin goes to Nazareth amain; But ore-charg'd by her burthen, 's forc'd to stay And beare her Sonne at Bethleem by the way: Where, ô, what's Caesars, Caesar hath, and what Is due to God, to God is consecrate; For Caesar hath his penny, God his Son, The Devill his bane, Man his salvation.

What, shall I then dis-know thee, ô thou Prince Of my salvation, since for my offence Thou art subjected to these foule despisings, That Sinne or Sathan send from their devisings? In this so great and rare Nativity Let Junctyne, Origen, or great Ptolemie, Copernicus, or Tich••bra, or they Who with the starry Influence doe play, Look on this Non-such-birth, and, if they can, Display his midnight, or meridian:

It feares me much, their judgements shall come short Of what this Theam and Birthright doth import; For, rule the Cuspe of his eight house, who will, His death shall our deaths Dominator kill, And maugre hell and earth (which him assaile) He breaks the Dragons head, and curbs his taile;* 1.10 For Virgo beares him, he in Libra lives, The Archers wound him, Leo him revives: For though mans reason cannot think, but all His Starres were dignifi'd, both great and small, Yet lo, his Mother, voyd of friend and Kinne, Must make a Stable her bed-chambers Inne; The Parlours all are fill'd with uncouth guests, Their Chambers all are stuff'd with sumptuous feasts, Proud pomp, stern ryot, foule and loath'd excesse Have took up Bethleems roomes both more and lesse, And Superfluity dances such a round, That for Necessity no place is found; But she whose table in the heav'ns was deckt, Must beare her Sonne, disdain'd and disrespect: Now, now the Oxe may say, I know my owner; Now sayes the Asse, This is my masters corner; But Israel and Bethleem cannot know What homage to their Saviour they ow: For every Prophet's honor'd, save at home; And he, although amongst his own he come, Yet was he not received; but despised, Although in him the Godhead be comprised.

But, ay me! ay me! why should we rebuke Thee, Bethleem, for that thou didst ore-look Thy long, long look'd-for Monarch, and disdain'd That God within thy doores should be maintain'd?

We, we our selves are guilty, much, much more Of pride and lewd contempt, at whose hearts dore He knocketh by his word each day we live, And yet the sluggards answer to him give, 'Tis night, say we, from sleep why dost thou wake me? A Lion by the way shall tare and take me, My cloaths are off, how can I put them on?* 1.11 My feet are washt, and shall contagion Of Earths bedurting puddle make them foule, And so my quiet and my rest controll? No, no, this is no fitting time to talke, In bed I rest, goe thou abroad and walke: O God of mercy, grant us mercy, for Our sinnes are risen to so huge a score, That perish needs we must, unlesse that thou Who made the Cock, for Peters cause, to crow, Crow by thy Spirit in us, and so make clean Our hearts; that thou in them mayst still remain.

Thus was my Saviour in disdain receiv'd, Whilst worms & wretches were with pomp embrav'd; He's made an abject, subject to disdain, That we poor wretches might be born again; He's wrap'd in rags, his bed's a crib of Clay, That we might weare his Righteousnesse alway; His harbour is a Cave, yet doth hee'nlarge The heav'n of heav'ns to be our heritage, And he, who in himselfe is Lord of life, Hath but one mayd, for mother and midwife; Man, when at first he sinn'd, did put on cloaths, Yet such as subject were to dust and moaths, But Christ new born is cloth'd with rags, though clean Yet, sure I am, both peevish, poore, and mean,

And yet's no sooner clothed with our flesh, Than subject to our cursed nakednesse: Jacob, to gain his Father Isacks blessing, Array'd in Esau's cloaths, obtain'd his wishing: But Christ, arrayed in my flesh, (that he Might steale a blessing from himselfe, to me) Takes on him both my curse, my sinne, and shame, And joynes me Co-heire to his Diadem; That as my cloaths doe tell me, I am Man, His cloaths may tell me, I'm a Christian: Up then, my Soule, up, up, and change thy cheere, For loe, how base so ev'r this Babe appeare, By him thy Manna from out heav'n thou hast, And eke by him Rephydim to thy taste Sends out her cooling rills; Heavn's made thy house, The World thy walk, the Creatures serve thy use.

Twice now hath Salem, by her Enemies, Sigh'd out her Funerall dying obsequies; First by the hoast of stern Nebuchadnezar, Then by the trophies of triumphing Caesar: An Idumaean now in Sion's known, Jordan now counts her streams no more her own; And, what's the worst of ills, Jury sits mute, Augustus taxeth, she doth contribute: Judge yet a righteous judgement sure will I, And rest upon Gods providence, for why? He drawes great Caesar here t'enact but that Which many Prophets earst prognostioat; And chiefly I will scan that sacred truth Which he, of old, proclaim'd by Michu's mouth: For loe, 'tis written; Bethleem, though thou be* 1.12 Despis'd in Judu's voyd of Majestie,

Yet out of thee shall rise that Ruler, who Shall by his wounds, and stripes, and bloody flow, As Judah's righteous Shepherd, straight regather All wandring Israels flocks to their true Father.

Then, O the deepnes of thy wayes, my God! Who knows thy Paths, or treads thy Judgments road? How secret are thy Counsels, actions just, And favors great, to such as in thee trust! Where, but in Bethleem, that's the house of bread, Should our Soules bread of Life be harboured? Or where, but in the house of David, may The heire of David, Davids Scepter sway?

No, holy David, now from farre I smell What made thee thirst to sip of Bethleems well,* 1.13 And having got a draught from thence, didst yet Powr't on the ground, and wouldst not drink of it: Now, now I see, it was this living water Which Bethlehem doth from her bosom scatter That thou didst long for, and desire to taste, That it might give a coole refreshing Rest To those impoyson'd scorchings which did burn In thy affections, and Soules sacred Urn; Yet wouldst thou not so much as drench thy lip Therewith, but made it on the ground to trip, That so a sweet drink-offring it might be For safety of their lives who brought it thee; Recalling to thy mind, that time drew neare Wherein thy Sonne should in our flesh appeare, And from thy Stem a glorious sprig should spring, Whose blood should quench the fiery Serpents sting, And from his side should send the sweetest water That ever Fountain from her sourse should scatter.

Come then, sweet babe, and by that nectar'd draught With which th' art richly furnished and fraught, Revive my Soule, refresh my scorch'd desires, Which thirst, for thee, more then the Hart requires To taste the current of those chrystall brooks, Whose windings kisse the earth's meandring crooks; Come, come; and by this document of thine, Wherein thou lay'st aside thy glories shine, Teach us, who are but worms, and dust, and ashes, To lay aside our prides empampring flashes, Whose smoke of vanity and humane glory Doe turn our best hopes to a tragick story; For, if the Master have no fitter fare, Why should the servant grudg his sober share. No, no, my soule, content thy self, 'tis hee Who knows no sinne, that's now made sinne for thee, And being richly-rich, is now made poore, That his distress might thy true wealth secure: Hee's base, that thou maist be exalted; scorn'd, That thou with glory maist be still adorn'd; Hee dies, that thou maist live; and lies in grave, That death dominion o're thee may not have: Why shouldst thou then or frown, or faint, or fret For change or alteration of thy state; No, know that thy Redeemer lives above, And that hee doth chastize whom he doth love, For standing waters putrifie and rot, When they who in a restless current trot Live to themselves, and also t' others use, VVithout contagious sench, or dregs abuse; If then wee suffer with him, so shall wee Reigne with him, in his matchless royalty,

And if his Crosse we shall deny, he shall Deny us to his fathers Angels all; Why should we then, for mis'rys blustring blasts, Quit-claim that glory which for ever lasts; No, let our Crown be here, like his, of Thorn, Glory thereafter shall our heads adorne, And if, with him, wee taste a cup of gall, His bowls of new wine suit our festivall.

The Advent.

CANTO 5^o.

AS they who for their Zenith have the Pole, When Titan first renews his Caprioll, In their Horizon, on their tip-toes stand, To get th' approach of his long look'd for brand, And write the welcom of his good new yeer In bloody Rubricks of their Calender: So now, whilst long and desolate night, of deep Discomforts, have made Syon's daughters weep; Their glorious new-born Titan's happy byrth, A wakes the powers both of heav'n and earth, In a melodious harmony to ring A peale of Hale-lu-jahs to their King.

And so it is, for whiles these shepheard boyes, Who Pan-like pipe their pastorall Oades and Joyes

On oaten reeds, had softly laid them down To watch their flocks from stealth's confusion, Lo! th'Angell Gabriel, from heav'ns glorious throne, Is sent t'unclasp heav'ns long clasp'd sanction, And tell them that their greater Pan was borne, Whose stafe and sheep-hook should be made of thorn: Feare not, says he, my frends, I come t'unfold The sweetest news that ever yet was told In heav'ns high Senat, or in earths deaf-eare, Let such then as have eares to heare mee, heare; For lo! In Bethlehem there's born, to day, That Hyerarchick-prince, whose hands must sway The trinall-Mace of heav'n, of earth, and hell, And all those armies in then bosom dwell.

Thus hath hee spoke, and straight a glorious Chore Of Angels in a Diapason's loare Second his message, with the sweetest sound That in D-la-sol, or in E-la's found: Glory, say they, be to the Lord on high, To men all peace and all prosperity, And upon earth let blessings and good-will Each hungry maw and empty cup full-fill: Ne're did the fractions of a ratling thunder, When first it bursts the roarid-clowd asunder, Bring more affrightning terror to the eare Of some weake stripling, conquered by feare, Then doth this Vision wound the soule and sence Of these poore shepheards, fraught with ignorance:

Yet up, say they, goe let us quickly try The truth of this so strange a Heraldry; For sure hee must bee some great Potentate, Of whom so great things be prognosticate,

And he whom these Seraphick Chores adore Must own an earthly Monarchy, and more: To Bethleems walls then in all haste they run, Before Aurora could display the Sun, And finde the Saviour of the world display'd, And in poore Bethleems armes despis'd and layd, Not usher'd nor attended, but with wake, Neglect and penury, for our plenties sake.

Here, O what find they! or, what find they not? A Lamp of light, ecclips'd with darknesse blot; A new-born Babe, yet got before all time; A spotlesse Lamb, yet spotted with our crime; A King of Kings, yet served as a slave; A Lord of life, yet vassal'd to the Grave? A very God, yet cloath'd with flesh and bone; A Prince, yet harbour'd in Confusion. What's here, I pray, that carnall eyes or sense Can honour with Religious reverence? A Carpenter, a Hand-maid, and a child, A Cottage, and a Crib with beasts defil'd; Yet loe! for all that basenesse, they behold, They tell to Mary, what the heav'ns have told To them: whose heart doth all those sayings hide, Till God and Time her doubtings should decide.

But, ay me! happy, happy Virgin-maid, Me thought of late my staggering Mase had stray'd Too farre, in pointing out thy humbled station In thy Sonnes dark eclipsed Incarnation: But ah, I see sublunar griess doe still Renew their Tides; for e'r they obbe, they sill And glut themselves with our afflictions load, Untill our grave become our last aboad:

Needs therefore must I rouze, once more, my quill, And make her drink once more the Nectar'd rill Of divine Numbers, that I may expresse Those teares, that toyle, and bitter wofull case With which thy harmlesse heart is pierced thorow, Whilst thy deare suckling our first griefs doth borrow.

Seven times hath Titan now, with swift Cariere, Run all th'Ecclyptick of his bandilier; And couching seven times in th'Atlantick deep, Hath lull'd as oft Earths drowsie globe asleep: Loe now his eight, and new approaching Ray Hath call'd on Phaeton to proclaim the Day; And by the sacred Ceremonious Rites Of Legall sanctions, now the Heav'n invites The ever blessed Virgin-maid to sacre Her Sonne, by Circumcision, mans Peace-maker.

But ah, great Nymph, what dost thou now? and why Greet'st thou thy Sonne with such a cruelty? That ev'n in stead of those sweet warbling aires That should his griefes beguile, and charm his cares, Thou mak'st the Runnals of his pretious blood Distain the ground in so impetuous flood? What, hast thou quite forgot that pitious strain, Which Nature, wafting in affections Main, On all that tender Progeny bestowes, Which from her bowels and her belly flowes? Or, tell me, dost thou think that this poor vail Of flesh, wherein th'Eternall's Sonne doth dwell, Although it truly was assum'd in thee, Can ev'r partake thy sinfull Leprosie? No, no, I feare, dread Nymph, I wrong too sore Thy Loves deep Ocean, and thy Faiths rich store;

For ne're a drop of that his Crimson dye Fall's to the ground, but with a Sympathy Of griefes, of teares, and sorrow-ringing-knell, Thou didst his scriechings and his teares bewail: Yea, what is more, I finde thee, Royall Dame, So wrapt 'twixt Faith and Fear's obstrep'rous flame, That whilst th'intend'st by Circumcisions stroak To consecrate thy Sonne to beare our yoak, No sooner dost thou precognosc his teares, Or yet presage his smart by thy weak feares, When loe, me thinks, I heare thee sweetly say, My hope, my help, my love, my life, my stay, Ah, shall I live, and be reserv'd to see My hearts delight, and Soules sole balm thus be Both cut and carved, by the butch'rous knife Of any Flamine, who did e're take life? No, no, my Love, my Darling, my Delight, Love cannot so her Gordian knot bequite, As once to make thee but become a pray To bloody rigour in a legall way: Back Phoebus, back for shame, goe hide thy head And golden Tresse in Thetis watry shade, Look not on such a savage sight, nor see So foule a Scean presented unto thee: Earth, stop thy mouth, and doe thou drink no more These crimson drops of blood, and spotlesse gore, Which my poor babe distills; but rather mourne, And to thy wonted Chaos straight returne: And, O thou Flamine, whosoe're thou be, Whose hand's accustom'd to this butchery, Here I adjure thee by that sumptuous All Which Heav'n or Earth doth sacred count or call,

Touch not my Sonne with such a bloody knife, For in his wound I bleed, and lose my life; But rather, kneeling at his De'ties throne, Know that his wounds and scars should be thy own: Yet whilst againe thou ruminat'st th'Abysse Of Gods unshun'd decree and Righteousnesse, O, how I see thee bound thy fraile desire, And what thou canst not comprehend, admire.

For since th'Eternall gives this strict command, That every male inhabiting this Land Of Promise, should by Circumcisions badge Be known a Co-heire of his heritage; O how thou daunt'st thy thoughts, and curb'st thy tongue As sacrilegious instruments of wrong, And though thy flesh a while had th'upper hand; Yet now I see the Spirit doth countermand The fraile suggestions of thy naturall will, And to his righteous lore subject them still.

For thus, me thinks, I heare thee plead: Altho 'Tis hard to see my Sonne dismembred so; Yet since 'tis God, who hath my comfort been, Whose Love my life doth every way maintain, Whose never failing Care doth still advance My Cup, my Table, and Inheritance, Who thus exacts thy body to be rent, What am I, wormling, that I should relent The meanest parcell of his blessed pleasure For all the worlds rich pomp and perishing treasure? No, no, I am no Zippora, to say, Thou art a bloody Mate to me this day: But since thy will must, or by us be done, Or else upon us, let Subjection

Be our best service; for 'tis known that thou Exalt'st the humble, and the proud dost bow: No, no, my Sonne, bow, bow thy selfe, obay The yoak which he upon thy neck doth lay; He is thy Father, and thou art his Sonne, His grace must guide thee, till thy race be run: Cease therefore you my teares, my sighs, and all My sorrowes, to your rest your selves recall; For though my Sonne, my Love, and Darling rather Be deare to me, he must obey his Father, And by his sufferings in the flesh allay His fury, whose disdain works our decay: 'Tis true, thou in thy selfe canst have no need By Circumcisions stroak and wound to bleed, For in thee no such sinfull spot doth dwell As needeth Circumcision for a Seal; Only for us, poore sinners, thou'rt content To seale thy selfe with our sinnes Sacrament, [unspec 1] That as old Abraham was the first put on This, as the seale of his adoption, Thou by this Seale wilt shew thy selfe that seed In whom our blessing first was promised: [unspec 2] Next, that the Law in thee may cleerly see Thou cam'st not to destroy it's liberty, But to fulfill it; by the Lawes great Seale Thou tak'st our debt on thee, and art our baile. [unspec 3] Thirdly, that in thy Circumcision, we Our Fore-fathers salvations map might see, Thou'rt made the whole worlds Saviour altogether,* 1.14 To day, to morrow, and the same for ever. And what is more, thou must be circumcised, [unspec 4] And in some short succeeding time baptized,

That wee may learn to circumcise our hearts As well's our outward and our carnall parts,* 1.15 For God is no waies like to frantick man, VVho only doth the outward count'nance scan, But rather chooseth to behold the heart, And what in it doth sweetly smile or smart, That by a righteous recompence he may Our actions and affections both repay: [unspec 5] And last of all, that all the world may learn Thy true humanitie rightly to discern; Thou must bee circumcis'd, and in the sight Of Priest and people both, declare the right, That thou art true man, having flesh and bone, Like us in all things save corruption.

Thus have I weakly with a darkned cole Lim'd out the secret passions of the Soule Of this great Nymph, and hop'd t'have bid farewell To all the terrors which her Soule could feel; But ô I see my selfe intrench'd again In those meandring paths of toyle and pain, VVherein poore worldlings run a circled course Of joyes and greefs, of better and of worse.

O how my pen denies to point that story To which it cannot yeeld deserved glory, For in this Scean of hers nothing is common, But all dread wonders, shee a wondrous woman: Come then, brave Nymph, come, let me ask thee why Thou dost in danger and difficulty Revisit Salems sacred Temple, that With legall sanctions, and I wot not what A world of Ceremonious Rites, thou may Thy presuppos'd Impur'ty purge away?

Well might'st thou, Mary, and besides thee none, Have claim'd immunity and exemption From all those shadowes and Levitick showes Which Sinne and Trespasse on their owners throwes; Not that thou in thy selfe art voyd and free From sinnes infective spot and leprosie; No, no, that were a grace of too great note For any Child that Adam ev'r begot, Since all who from old Adams loynes discend In Adams loynes doe still by sinne offend, He onely being except, who from thy wombe, A second Adam, to the world hath come: No, this is all that I averre, That by That heav'nly spring which from thy womb did fly There flow'd no such contagious spot and staine As once could make thee legally uncleane: 'Tis true, those Mothers which in sinne conceive A Race by sinne re-oblig'd to the Grave, And by their sinne unto the Law stand tyde May by the Law seek to be purified: But since thy Darling by himselfe ne're knew, Save for our sakes, how sinne doth man subdue, What needest thou by Turtles of Purgation T'enact the Scean of thy Purification?

Then, to unloose this riddle, let us look What Moses hath recorded, in that book Wherein Gods written Law doth give direction For the purgation of our sinnes infection: There it is writ, that if a woman beare A man-child to the world, she shall appeare Before the Lord, but not untill the Sun Full forty times about the world have run;

And when shee dares t'approach and come before him, E're shee doe bend her knees and goe t'adore him, Shee must present a Lamb, and Pidgeons two, The true confessors of her sinfull flow, And these the Priest must on the Altar burn, And to true pur'ty her impur'ty turn; And if shee have no Lamb to sacrifice, Two Turtles or two Pidgeons shall suffice:

Here, here I see thee, Nymph, with severe aw Obtemper the strict sanction of this Law, And as thou hadst been by thy byrth unclean, Thou wilt thy self thus purifie again, Offring two Pidgeons, void of gall or harm, And thy unspotted Lamb born in thine arm.

O blessed Lamb of God, how dost thou now Turn these poor types to what is re'lly true, And as the Index of the clock doth tell The severall motions of three, six, nine, twelve, So by these creatures, thou the great Creator Mak'st them bee cyphers, thee significator. A Lamb did Abel, when the world began, First offer to thy Father; thou'rt the Man Presignified, whose blood hath better dy Then Abel's, in his causless butchery: E're Noab from his pitched Ark came forth, Hee sent a Pidgeon of unspotted worth To view the new workls state, shee turns again The witness of a calm decreasing Maine, And in her Bill, an olive-branch, to show Th'Almighties wrath had stopt his surious flow: Thou art the Man; aspotless Pidgeon rather, Who in thy mouth bringst fromth'Eternall Father

The unexpected Sacrament of Peace, That seales the Sermon of our Love and Grace, And as the Turtle in her widdow-while Is never seen so much as once to smile, But with continuall mourning doth bemoan The loss of her enamour'd Paragon; So thou bewailing that the master-peece Thou didst, at first, seale with thy own impresse Should, by a strangers stamp, be stoln away, And in destructions wandring paths to stray, Com'st now at last, and over Bether trips With loves exulting scalads, shews and skips, And cannot rest, till in thy arms strict hold, Thou doe thy deerest Minion reinfold.

Hence, hence it is, dread Nymph, that sacred thou, Not for a new Moons sake, nor for a vow, But for obedience to the Law wilt goe To Salem's Temple, and in publick showe Be purifi'd; and in thy armes, present The blessed seed that seales our Government: That as unto the first-born did belong The double portion, and revenge of wrong; So in his double portion we may have Grace upon Grace, and our destroying Grave May so bee shut, that wee may sing and cry Death, where's thy sting? Grave, where's thy victory? And that this second Temples lofty frame May far exceed the first house prototheam; And that which God by Haggai's mouth did speake, May now, in time, a full perfection take: Loe here the man, to whom the hid desire Of all the nations, in a zeal-bred fire

Are captivate; doth stand, that all th'opprest By sin, in him, may find true ease and rest: The first house, sure, by ceremonious rites And Typick emblems of spirituall sweets Did lead the Priests and people both, to run And hope th'approach of this imperiall Sun; But now the body's come, the shades evanish, And Titan's new-born rayes night's clouds doth banish And though the Oracles be dumb, though th'Ark Preserve no Manna, nor no budding Mark Of Priest-hood; for on him all those rely'd, He finish'd them, they him presignify'd: Yet loe, this day, the never erring Word Of God, is brought to pass, and doth afford More lively consolation to the Soule, And those sad raptures which our peace controle, Then all the bathings, purgings, exhalations That great Jedidiah put for expiations Could furnish to the sinne perplexed hart, For Antimony 'gainst the Serpents dart: For now the long contesting jar doth cease, That kept at ods, Truth, Mercy, Justice, Peace, Whilst in our flesh, our first begotten brother Makes all those Graces kisse each one another: Blest then be God, who when his Church is tost 'Twixt swallowing Calpe and Abila's coast, Hath sent his Son as Palinure to guide And bring her safe to shore gainst Neptun's pride, And make her, when shee's shut from out Shem's tents, In Japhet's state-house hold her Parl'aments: For he hath sworn that hee will ne're forsake her Till, like a faithfull-Bridegroom, homehee take her.

The Epiphany.

CANTO 6^o.

WHere am I now! what splendor strangely rare Is this, which darting through the Heav'ns and aire Dazles my sight with such a glorious ray, As makes my Muse to stumble at mid-day; For whil'st of late my weakly warbling quill Did only from her Virgin-snowt distill The tear-drown'd ditties of a Virgin milde, And wofull accents of a wailing Childe; Loe now perforce I soare, and tread a march Alongst the confines of th'Etheraeal arch; And in th' abortive birth of rhime, descry The radiant troops of heav'ns brave Infantry: Not that I mean by search of curious art, T'investigat each circle, zoane and part, Wherewith our azur'd heav'ns being cut asunder Doe parallel our earthly globe that's under; No, no, who shall with roaving straines aspire To search these tapers of Celestiall fire, T'unfold the Zodiak, in his foure-fold Trine And heaven-divider, Equinoctiall Line, Our Tropiques colours, and our Zeniths hight, Our Pole, Horizon, and our Nadir right,

With Dand's daughters, may attempt to bring From Lethe's never empty'd sourse and spring Their buckers full of water, but in vain, For by the way they empty still again.

I cease therefore t'inquire why Saturnes spheare Revolves his course but once in thirty yeare; Why Jupiter, by twelve yeares milde aspect, Doth churlish Saturnes froward frownes correct; Why cruell Mars, with proud out-braving pace, Doth in two twelve-months moderate his race; Why Titan, heav'ns Lieutenant, once a yeare Confines and crownes his still renew'd Cariere; Why Paphian Venus, and old Juno's foe Are not asham'd once every yeer to goe, And tread a March behind Apollo's wheeles, Like Lacquayes waiting on their Masters heeles; And why Luciua, in her Love-bred-passion, Should, each Month once, in fresh new-fangled fashion Greet her Apollo, that by his bright shine Of twelve stolne kisses she may make thirteen: No, leaving those, and their unsearehed sourses, Their Apogae's and Pyrogae's in courses, Their Progresse, Transits, and their Applications, Directions, Revolutions, Separations, Their Quadrats, Sextiles, Trines, and Oppositions, Conjunctions, Lights-translations, Prohibitions, Their House, their Exaltation, and Triplicity, Their Term, their Face, and such essentiall dignity, How Fortitude stands here, and doth importune, And how Debility, there, threats a misfortune, How this S••ar's fix'd, that strayes and proves erratique, How this Conjuction's partile, and that platique,

I leave to Chalda-Star-gazers, and those Whom Nile and Tigris in their armes inclose; And in a modest path shall onely bring My Muse to quiver on a maiden string, How he by whom heavn's starres both rise and fall Makes Starres doe homage at his Pedestall.

Come then, thou great irradiat morning Starre, By whom Oryon and the Pleyads are; Thou Star of Jacob, by whose power and might The Stars were made 'gainst sisera to fight; Thou, thou whose dread and uncontroll'd command Enforc'd the Sun in Gibeah to stand, And Moon i'th'Vaile of Aialon to stay Till thou thy force didst to thy foes display; Thou whose right hand seven rut'lant Stars dost hold, And crown'st thy Church with radiant Stars of Gold; Even thou whose light so decks thy smallest Saint That he exceeds the Stars o'th'Firmament, And by thy light dost make their light more rare Then brave Aurora when she cleeres the aire; And finally, Great thou, whose dreadfull rage Hath thrust that wandring Star from out lights stage (Whose name is Wormwood) and hast plac'd his Cell In chaines of darknesse, and the depth of hell, Come thou, I say, and by that Spirit of thine Whose light lends light to every Star to shine, Rouze up my Muse to that all-conquering Verse Which may in sacred hymnes and Odes rehearse The unmatch'd love, and the immortall glory Of thee my God, in pain-born Rhimes best story.

For, when thou, like the Bride-groom of our Soul, Didst for our sake thy Majesty controll,

'Tis true that no externall pompe or show Which lacquaies humane greatnesse here below, Did waite upon thy birth, or yet advance Their footstools to support thy radiance; Thy head, no royall Diadem did wear; Thy back, no curious Tissue roab did bear; Thy bed did smell no incense; thy reposes Knew neither Turn-sols, Lyllies, Pinks, nor Roses: But all thou hadst, thy nakednesse t' ore shade, Was a poore hole, to hide thy glorious head; Yet as the heav'ns of late, in love sent forth Their Gabriel, to Annunce thy wondrous birth; So now, in still unwearied love they send This blazing Star thy cradle to attend, By whose direction three great forraign Sages Scorning their home-bred wealth and heritages Are now content to come from farre, and see Earth wedded to th' Prince of Eternitie: Thy starre they saw, and wrapt with dread amaze To see a starre dart forth so splendid raies, And smother all her neighbr'ing lamps as farre As Titan doth his sister Cynthia's carre; Straight way they run, and with industrious care They search their antient Annalls, every where, Their Oracles, and Sybils, more and lesse, Their Journals, and their Ephimerides, To see from whence, and for what wondrous cause This radiant Torch so rich a splendor showes: But all's in vain, nor Art, nor Nature may I'ts scite, light, motion, to the world display; For all of those are in this subject rare, Divine, miraculous, extraordinare:

But he from whom Nature first beg'd her light And hidden Science, by his artlesse might Inspires those Sages, and doth make them see This Star's the Prodrome of that Majestie, By whom the Sonnes of Japhet now are led Within the Tents of Shem to hide their head.

Fie on thee Juda; Salem fie on thee, Why didst not thou, as well as they, foresee The glorious sun-shine of thy Visitation, And greet the worker of this great Salvation? But ah! thy snorting dreams did thee deceive, For thou didst still imagine thou shouldst have A Prince of such a temporall arm and power, As to a honny-sweet should change thy sowre: But loe, whilst thou in darknesse lov'st to sleep, A Nation com'th from farre, and stately keep Their festivals of Joy thy Tents about, Whilst thou, and eke thy children are thrust out.

O God, whence com'th't, that those, above the rest, Have known thy Starre, and so themselves addrest In paths of toyl, and tedious pilgrimage To searrh thy birth, as they did see thy badge? Could Nature, or her handmaid Art discover Thy Star, or it distinguish from another? No surrely, no, Combine them both in one, And both shall teach us but confusion: For without grace, the naturall Man's a foole: And Arts chief Doctor, when he sits at Schoole, And doth investigate Heav'ns, Earth, and Aire, And all those hoasts which Capriolls here or there In Natures precincts, still the more he sees Arts hidden secrets, Natures mysteries,

And sees not God, the more his wit shall serve To glut his fancy, but his soule to starve: Thus they, being led by the Celestiall light Through rocky Deserts, and the toyls of night, Doe come at last to Bethlehems walls, and there This Torch stands fluttering o're them in the aire, Till by thy guiding grace they doe espie The place wherein this Monarch-Prince doth lie.

No sooner doe they this sweet Babe behold, Then by heav'ns inspiration they are bold T'unload their asses, and their Camels backs, T'untrusse their fardles, and ungird their sacks, And lay these sumptuous presents, richly sweet, Gold, Mirhe, and Incense at the Sucklings feet: Whether they by Prophetick spirit did see His Kingdome, Priesthood, and his Prophecie, Or, if that by affections naturall Vain They thus doe greet him as their Soveraign, I struggle not too much; Let this suffice, That in Religious awe they bow their knees, And with a sacred sweet consorting voyce Thus doe they greet him, and thus they rejoyce: Thrice great, thrice blessed, and thrice holy Lord, By whose Majestick uncontrolled Word What e're was fram'd within the point of Time, Or hath a being in the a••••r'd Clime; Whose right hand doth from all Etern'ty bear Our clasped Issues unshun'd Kalendar; Whose wisdome, pow'r, and deep providence guides The Delian Princesse in her sev'rall tides: How boldly may we now rejoice and sing, And call the carroling beav'ns thy praise to ring,

Who mak'st thy wondrous light to shine, even there Where death made darknesse his Cubiculare: Of old, whilst Jacob was desir'd to blesse Josephs two sonnes with a Prophetick kisse, He wisely cross'd his armes, and his right hand He puts on Ephraims head where he did stand, And on Manasseh made his left hand stay, And so, by practice, he did prophecy That Japhets seed should dwell i'th' tents of Shem. And eke Manasseh bow to Ephraim: This day we see that Vaticiny true, Whilst we, wilde prodigals, our necks subdue To thee our God, making Manasses share Rich as the vintage of Abiezer: Since Israel therefore will not heare, heare then You Heav'ns and Earth, and shame the sonnes of Shem; For we will praise th'Eternall, and record The never failing goodnesse of the Lord.

O blessed Babe, how great art thou! what store Of blessings girds thy Loyns for evermore! For thou art he who dost exalt the horn Of Judah, and his Pallaces adorn With bowls of Nectar, and Ambrosian dyet, And mak'st her graze in pastures of true quiet; The Scepter of true Government's on thy shoulder, And thou shalt crush thy foes to dust and powder; On Davids throne, thou, as his Sonne, shalt sit In Judgment and in Truth t'establish it: Yea, Peace and Plenty shall thy steps attend, And of thy Kingdom there shall be no end: O loving Childe, how lovely-faire art thou! How sparkling are thy eyes, how sweet thy brow!

How fragrant are the odours that distill On thee from Gilead and Hermonims hill! Amongst the flowr's thou'rt chief; the Rose, the Lilly, The Pink, the Turn-sol, and the Daffadilly Have no such odorif'rous smell or taste As thou reverb'rat'st from the West to th'East: Live' then, sweet Babe, the miracle of Time, Earths mighty Champion, Balm of humane crime; Let thy great voyce, in Peace, resound throughout Earths flowry kirtle, and Seas glassie spout, That so thy favour, in each part, may be Immortall Nectar to Posteritie. O what are we, great God? what's our deserving? That, to confirme our faith so prone to swerving, Thou dost thus shake heav'ns solid Orb, and make Thy selfe a Vassall for a Vassals sake? O that we could discern aright, and know What duty, service, feare, and love we owe Thee, for that endlesse love wherewith thou hast Reclaim'd us from our wandrings to thy rest! Teach us, ô teach us so to run our race In patience, and in patience to possesse Our Soules, that thou, at thy great day, may'st clear Our Aegypt to a Goshen's hemisphear; And change the tenour of our tragick story To the Catastroph' of an endlesse glory.

The Massacre.

CANTO 7^o.

DIstraction, tumult, teares, oppression, jarre, VVrath, causlesse envy, cruell murther, warre, Yea, all those woes which Fury can forth bring Are now the Discant which my Muse must sing: For whilst of late th'Eternall did invite, By secret motions of his sacred Sp'rit, Three Eastern Sages wisely to imbrace Th'occasion of their long long-look'd-for peace, Like to Apollo's Priests, intranc'd, they rove From Herod's Palace to the Courts of Jove, And with a thundring voyce they roare and cry, Where's Juryes King? where, where's that Royall boy In whom the heav'ns have daign'd t'exalt the Throne Of Sions hopelesse Desolation? His Star hath brought us from our home-bred joyes, From ease, from rest, and from our quirks and toyes, And made us tread those paths of sad exile, T'imbrace the comforts of our widow-while.

Scarce had they breath'd those accents of unrest, When vulture-feare layes hold on Herod's brest In such a sort, that curs'd Erynnis crew Doe both his senses and his soule subdue:

What's this I heare, quoth he, what threats be those Those wandring Pilgrims to the heav'ns up-throwes? What brainsick tidings of a new-born King Are those which now through Jewryes Coasts do ring? What, shall my eyes be thus reserv'd to gaze, Ev'n in my glorious prime, the darkned rayes Of black disgrace ecclipse my glory so, That I from Honor, it from me must goe? No, no, great Caesar hath, in due regard Of my deservings, for my sake ensnar'd Old Hircanus (by force of Parthian wrath) To drink his last draught in the Cup of Death: And have not all his off-spring, which doe wander About the Stygian lake, even Alexander, Antipater, and Aristobolus, With Mariamnes, and Antigonus, Faire Alexandra, and each Ghost elsewhere Who in the helm of Sion claim'd a share, Been sent, as Vassals of my wrath, to plead In heritance in cloudy Deaths dark shade? And lest that, Hydra-like, their power or wit Should breed a Rivall on my Throne to sit, Have not my wits, more subteliz'd than theirs, Pluckt up that grave Sanhaedrine, by whose cares The state of Salem fortifi'd her stage Against the stormes of Fortunes spightfull rage; So that no bud nor branch may thence re-spring, That may my power to a period bring: Whence com'th it then, that such a sad affright Of alteration turns my Day to Night, And makes a lightning flash of sad-••v'rthrow Disturb the Ocean where my hopes did flow?

It may be that the heav'ns, whose boundlesse powers Controlls these currents, and these tides of ours, Have grudg'd to see me great, and therefore send Those Heralds to proclame my Glories end: For this I know (which former times have taught) That mortall men, whose mindes are alwaies fraught With care to conquer, in their deepest care Are but like bubbles blown alongst the aire, Which by our breath's no sooner blown and cherish'd, Then by a counterp••ffe 'tis gone and perish'd; Else wherefore did the Fates so proudly thrust Great Niniveh and Babel to the dust? Why have they trod on Carthage with their foot, Or laugh'd to see brave Ilion's lights blown out? Yea, push'd at Craesus, and Darius Crowne, And thrust the Macedonian from his Throne? But that the world may learn, that honor's strain Is hardl'acquir'd, but quickly lost again: Shall I therefore, like to a Childe, whose eare Hath ty'd him in the bands of causlesse feare, By hearing of a foolish doting fable, Apprentice all my thoughts to this unstable Narration? and trust that for a truth Which hath no warrant, but a wand'rers mouth? Or shall I, like Endimion, in the deep Of base security lye still and sleep; VVhen Heav'ns, by that great care of me they take, Doe by these warnings bid me thus awake? No, 'gainst the Heav'ns I spurn not, yet I scorn A Monarch, and much lesse a Babe new born Should in Judaea to that state arise As may my Glory and my Crown surprise:

I will therefore look what a treacherous art Dissembling fury, in a hollow heart, Can add to high exploits, and then imploy My wits to search the corner, where that boy Can lurk, whose fame thus makes the world agast, And drunk with expectation: and at last, By sad experience I will make him hear That Crownes are weighty things for babes to wear.

VVhilst thus 'twixt Fear and Envy's mutinous hoast The subtelizing Tirants soule is toss'd, Rage breaks, at last, the gap, and opes the way To vent the passions which his soule dismay: Goe, saith the subtle fox, goe, quickly call The Talmudists and Rabbins, great and small, The Priests, the Prophets, Pharises, and Scribes, Through all Judaea's severall coasts and tribes; Make them revolve, consider, search, and try The time and place of his Nativity, VVhom these distracted Pilgrims have so farre Search'd, by prognostication of a starre: For wheresoe're, or whosoe're he be Whose light thus threats t'obscure my Majestie, I can conform my minde unto my fate, And kisse the foot that tramples on my state; And if the heav'ns will needs blot out my name, I'le doe him homage who procures the same.

Thus hath the viper, big with fierce envy, Breath'd out the flashes of his cruelty: But God, who dwelling in the heav'ns unfolds The heart's hid secrets, rheines, and deepest holds, Laughs this dissembling project all to scorn, And by his spirit doth secretly suborn

The Sages to retire another way, That so he may the Tyrants rage display; He warneth also Joseph and his Bride To take the childe, and step a while aside To Aegypt, that Gods will might so be done, Who sayes, From Aegypt I have call'd my Sonne.* 1.16

O God, how deep's the Ocean, rich the store Of mercy, thou lay'st up for evermore To such as truly doe rely upon Thy Providence, for their salvation! The Sword, by day, may fiercely rage and smite, The Pestilence may rove abroad by night, The Cedars may be pluck'd up from their station, The Mountains may be hurl'd from their foundation, The windes may blow, the Seas may rage, and even Black darknesse may ecclipse the lights of heaven; But he who with a fully fixed minde On thee doth stay his Soule, shall surely finde He needs not feare the crafty hunters snare, Which for his downfall's stretched here and there; For when the world was drown'd by Nereus waves, Thy Noah, like a Neptune, them outbraves; When fire sack'd Sodome, loe, thy Lot survives, And in his Zoar, like a Vulcan, lives; When Jericho's vain trust o'returns her walls, Thy Rachab sits, and sings her festivals; When Syrian Captaines would command thy Seer, Thy Seraphins doe guard him in their Quier; When Babels scorching flames shall threat thy Saints, They stand unstain'd, and all their Aetna daunts: And what needs more? the Lions in their den May ramp and roar against the sonnes of men,

But hee who shall within thy shadow hide His head, and in thy Tents and Courts abide; Though heav'ns, earth, ayre and seas, and all were sha∣ken, Shall never perish, never be forsaken.

Yet stay my muse, arrest thy course a space T'attend the tenor of this tragick-case, VVhich, with an unexpected troup of feares, From secret ambush doth assault my ears: What roaring griefs and tear-drownd plaints be those The neighboring Eccho's to the heav'ns up-throwes? VVhat mourning groans, and sad lamenting cries Be those, which over this high mountain flies? Ay me, what's this, be those the caroling voyces Of a proud conquering army, whose rejoyces Evaporate up to the azur'd round, Reverberat the earth's environ'd ground? Or is't the gleanings of that grievous cry VVhich conquer'd-wretches, in their butchery And soule-depriving smart, doe cut asunder, Like clouds condensed, when they melt with thunder? No sure, it is no voice of tryumph, nor The voice of such as are tryumphed o're; These wofull screeches rather represent The ditties of some harmless innocent VVhich by the tort'ring butchers butch'rous clap Are stab'd or stifled in the mothers lap: And so it is, for cruell Herod hath Subsign'd and seal'd a warrant for the death Of all those Infants, which in Bethleem's coast Of two yeeres time, or under age, can boast: For so the reverend Seer, Hieremie,* 1.17 Hath in his never fayling Prophecy

Foretold; Behold a trembling voice of feare,* 1.18 And not of peace, shall so assault the eare And inward parts of Israel, that loe The bravest worthy in her streets doth goe Shall lay his hands upon his loyn's, as shee VVho labors in her byrths perplexitie:* 1.19 But chiefly in poore Ramah shal they heare The voice of bitter weeping, and such dire Laments, that Rachel scornes to be comforted, Because her children are with death transported.

Is't possible, ô Sun, that thou shouldst see, Or yet behold such inhumanity? Is't possible, ô Earth, thou canst sustein The burthen of such soul-less wicked men? Or is it possible that a humane tongue Can be the trumpet of such monstrous wrong? VVhilst harmless Infants on their mothers knees Joyn mouth to mouth, and wanton eys to eys, The smiling childe cries to his Nurse, mam mam, And she replies, thy min and mam I am, They greet each other with a thousand toyes, And still enjoy their still renued joyes, And in a speechless compact, promise never Their love-bred obligations to dissever: VVhen loe like Tygers, or whelp-robbed Beares, VVhich in the fenns of Caucasus appeares, The cruell actors of this tragick-Scean, Doe write the epacts of Death's last amen With bloody letters of Erynnis note, Upon the Dames and Nurses petticoat; The childe, not knowing what's the traytor's mind, First laughs upon him, like a Lamb enclind

To doubt no evill, since no ill he knowes, But being struck, his winding armes he throwes About his mothers neck; she, for to save him, Doth, in her bosome, hugge, at once, and grave him: Another, whil'st he sleeps i'th' swadling bands, Is fiercely pluck'd out by the Butchers hands, And, as a Fawn or Kid, he's cut asunder, And made unto the world a wofull wonder: A third, pluck'd from his mothers twisting armes, For all her vowes, her oaths, her cryes, or charmes, Is stab'd, and then disjoynted, like that meat That Cookes and Bakers doe prepare to eat: Thus, like the subtle spiders that doe teare The flies they catch within their tifney snare, So doe these damned Rascals dance a ring Of cruell murther, to their monstrous King. Woe, woe, now doth the childlesse mother cry, Why have the heav'ns reserv'd my tear-drown'd eye: To be the sad spectator of this wrong? Or why doe I possesse my life so long, That I, to those who first did ope my womb, Should in my armes behold a fun'rall tomb? Awake, awake, my deer and lovely Boy, My hope, my hap, my love, my life, my ioy, What, dost not thou now heare me call upon thee? And know'st thou not that I'm enamor'd on thee? What, shall I have for all my watchfull care, Thy births hard labour, and my burthens share, Thy restlesse rocking, wiping, washing, wringing, And cure of all thy wayward cryes with singing, But dead dumb silence? wilt thou ne'r awake, And fain a smile for any poore comforts sake?

Alas! thou canst not: now thy lips are pale, Thy eyes are blind, and stamp▪d with deaths black seale, Now art thou cold, and weighty as a stone, And deaf unto thy wofull mothers groane, Like those who dwelling neer to Nilus fall Hear not his horrid Catadupes at all: Thrice cursed be the heart that first did breed The wofull sanction of thy homicide; And thrice, thrice cursed be the bloody hand Did execute the cruell curs'd command Of that vile monster, whose unsatiate wrath Hath drunk my Darling's blood, and stop'd his breath: But ô how happy, happy thrice art thou, Poor tender babe, who, by this torture, now Hast entred in thy Masters rest, and made His arme the pillow that upholds thy head.

And, wofull monster, Herod, though of late, For preservation of thy Crown and State, Thou hast triumph'd on Bachels children so, That thou dost laugh in scorn at their o'rethrow, Think'st thou that he who first did form the eye Cannot the Center of thy mischiefe see? And he whose finger first did plant the eare Cannot thy cursed soules hid whisprings heare? Be not deceiv'd, he who from heav'n descries And fans the secrets which our hearts devise, Shall, in short time, repay thy murth'ring stroak With quenchlesse fire, and Conscience tort'ring yoak: Did not, of old, the Memphian Tyrant load The sonnes of Jacob with a grievous rod? And yet, when he esteem'd his fury crown'd, Jacob's redeem'd, and Cairo's Monarch's drown'd:

And did not proud Adoni-bezek, by The stroak of an impetuous tyranny, Make seventy Kings, whose thumbs and toes were cut, Like dogs to snatch their crums before his foot? And yet, i'th'end, he reap'd for his offence The selfe-same straine of tort'ring recompence: And did not base Abim'lech, in desire To sit at Stern of Israel's Empire, Powre out, like water on a fatall stone, The blood of seventy Brothers, all save one? And yet a flash of Sechems bramble, so Reverberat his pride, with just o'rethrow, That nothing could it's rapid flame restrain, Till Thebes drank Abim'lech's blood again. Thus have we heard, thus doe we wish and pray; But, knowing that Jehovah's just alway, We stay our imprecations, and beleeve That he, in time, will our trespasse forgive, And render thee thy just deserved doome, Both in this world, and in the world to come.

Here ends URANIA, Or, The first week.

Gloria Patri.

ASTRAEA.

On Jordans sweet enamel'd verge, a Dove Anoynts our Saviour Prince of peace & love. Hee in the Desert's Hungry, Tempted, Fed. Sinay's deep-Riddle is interpreted. Heav'n, earth, seas, ayre & hell confesse their God. Nature's subdu'd b' a supernat'rall rod. Tabor's illuminat with an unwonted glory, And Salem's streets exalt Hosannah's story.

The Unction.

CANTO 1^o.

AS when a thick and foggy cloud of raine Locks up her sluces in their sourse againe, Industrious Bees doe haste from out their hives To seek that Nectar which preserves their lives, And suck from tops of many a fragrant flowre A sugered syrrop quintessenc'd from sowre; So after all those teares and wofull toyle, Those murth'ring blows, and that curs'd damp & foyle

Which Herod's vultur-like ambition hath Powr'd out on Rachels children in his wrath; Now, now 'tis more then time (my sacred Muse) That with a living touch thou should'st peruse Those paths wherein the miracle of time Hath left us traces of our glories prime.

Up, then, awake, and tell me, who is this That in Judaea's desert wildernesse Doth, like a yawning Lion, roare and cry Make straight Messiah's path, prepare his way? What, hath the Thisbite re-appear'd again, Whose heav'nly message ne're return'd in vain, Whose voyces dire event thrust down to hell The sin sold Ahab and his Jesabel, And made all Baals Priests asham'd to see The dotage of their fond Idolatrie? It seemes 'tis he; for loe, his richest share Is but a Coat compos'd of Camels haire, His girdle is of leather, his chief meat Are Locusts and wilde honnie's delicate; And for all this his poverty, he still Doth all the neighboring dales and valleyes fill With this sad accent, Turn, repent, amend, For loe! Gods heavenly Kingdome is at hand: Yet 'tis not he; such transmigrations now Dare plead no place amidst a Christian crew; For, by th'Eternals uncontrol'd decree, As dust we are, so to the dust goe we; And till the time that heav'ns shall be no more, Our bodies are not what they were before; Nor shall our soules, or lifes true quick••ing spirit Their wonted dwelling houses re-inherit.

Who is it then? Now I perceive 'tis he Concerning whom the Prophet Malachy Hath, by a divine wisedome, thus foretold: (Wonder you fooles; come, come you wise) Behold, Before the comming of that dreadfull day Wherein the Lord his glory shall display, Eliah first shall come, and by his voyce The father in his children shall rejoyce, The children to their fathers wiser Will Shall bow their necks, and be obedient still; Lest comming to them with a searching fan, His vengeance finish what their finnes began: Yea, sure I am 'tis he, for now I finde The Scribes and Pharises, whose judgement's blinde,* 1.20 Run to his Baptisme, though in scorn, that so They may th 'Eternals Counsell overthrow; But all in vain; he with a soaring eye Rips up their hidden deep hypocrisie, And by his threatning, duely milde, and grave, Their hid dissimulation doth outbrave.

O vip'rous brood, ô froward generation, O Serpent-Issue of a sinfull Nation, Who hath fore-warn'd you to eschew the doome And scape the scorching wrath that is to come? Bring forth therefore, bring forth, I charge you here, Those fruits of new-birth, which makes faith appeare; And glory not, that Abraham's sonnes you are, For he who calls what's not, as though it were, Can make those senssesse stones, if he have need, Bring forth to Abra'm a Religious seed: No, rather know, that these be now the times Wherein the hand of Justice fannes our crimes,

And trenching axes, laid unto the Root, Cut down the wither'd sticks are void of fruit: 'Tis true indeed, I baptize you with water, But loe! there's one to come, who, what I scatter Shall recollect; he reaps where none was sown, And but advantage, will not have his own; He's great indeed, and mightier farre then I, I am not worthy his shoo-straps t'untye, With water I baptize you, ô but he Shall baptize with a fire of Deitie, For in his hand he holds that searching fan Wherewith he doth his barn-floores treasure scan; If we be found true wheat, his hand shall keep Our soules from falling in th' infernall deep; But if like chaffe we prove, his swallowing ire Shall thrust us headlong in a quenchlesse fire: Stray then no more through those poor desert fields Which neither state, nor pomp, nor glory yeelds, To gaze on me, a Reed toss'd too and fro, Where any whirl-windes puffe delights to blow; But rather, in a wise discretion, learn Your gracious Visitation to discern, For this is he that should be sent; expect None other to relieve your soules defect, Looke on his wayes, and by his works goe try The true prognosticks of his Majesty; By him the blinde have eyes, the lame their hands, The deafe their eares, the dead are loos'd from bands, The Leaper's cleans'd, and, what is more, the poore Receive the Gospell, and the Crosse endure: And that your Judgements may lack all excuse, Behold, the stone you builders did refuse

Shall be approv'd, and on the Corners top Shall stand, that there, by faith, by love, by hope, His children may a living house be made, To hold him for foundation and for head: Loe where he comes! my soul doth sweetly know him; Bow, bow your haughty necks, yeeld what you ow him, For he's that great immac'lat Lamb of God, Who having layd aside his wraths sharp rod, Doth by a love-sick Mercies bloody gore So purge our sinnes, that sinne stands ours no more.

Ne're did the swallowing Nilus rapid waves, Provok'd to anger by th' Aeolian slaves, Hurle down his streames to the Asphaltick lake With greater force, than doth the Baptist shake, By those his roaring thunders, the proud knees Of these dissembling Scribes and Pharisees: Yet scarce hath he, like that fore-running starre VVhich doth proclaim th'approach of Titan's carre, Fore-warn'd the world of that Imperiall Sun Whose race in Truths eccliptick line is run, When loe, that spotlesse Lamb, whose spotlesse love And suffrings weds us to the Lord above, Comes straight unto him, and in modest fashion, Without or pomp, or pride, or ostentation, Requires to be baptiz'd in Jordan's flood, The typick Emblem of his saving blood: But John remembring what he was, replies, O sacred thou, whose throne transcends our skies, Why dost thou crave to be baptiz'd of me, Since I should rather be baptiz'd of thee? The servants state is not above his Lord, Nor can my weaknesse that true strain afford

Of due obedience that belongs unto thee, O get thee from me, for thy eyes undoe me. Peace, saith Immanuel, John, thy flesh is weak Th'Eternals hidden Counsels to partake, For ne're hath flesh his riddles truly view'd, But he who with his Heifer first hath plough'd.

Wouldst thou then know wherefore I doe desire To be baptiz'd of thee, who can with fire Rebaptize thee? Know that my Charge is such As without Unction none usurps to touch; I doe not run unsent, my Father hath Before all time decreed, That by my death The sting of death, and of deaths Lords great power Should so be curb'd, that they no more devoure: That I may then obey my Fathers will,* 1.21 And all the law of Righteousnesse fulfill, VVhich may contemper Mercies milde sweet yoak To Justice proud, though just revenging stroak, [unspec 1] And so become a righteous Mediator Betwixt the Creature and the dread Creator, I must be baptiz'd first, that so I may My heav'nly function to the world display: Adde hereunto, that in this flesh of mine, Which from the earth is earth, from heav'n divine, I must the state of of every thing renew, And to my Gospell Moses Law subdue; [unspec 2] Man must be new, the old man now must perish, And by a new-born faith his soule must cherish; The heav'ns shall be renew'd th'old flie away, The Earth renew'd shall smell like maiden-May; The Law is old, a new command I give That men henceforth by faith, love, hope, must live;

And as the Covenant's chang'd, so must the Seale Make room for Grace, and bid the Law farewell; [unspec 3] And what is more; That Man may see I love To make his mansion in the heav'ns above, Loe here his badg and cognizance I take On mee, not for my own, but for his sake, That when my father Man's great Seale shall see On my fore-head, and man made one with me, He may from man his furious wrath withdraw, And make him Heyre, by Grace, not by the Law; [unspec 4] And that vain man may never scorn those rites By which as Canals of coelestiall sweets Th'Almighty pours his Grace upon their Soule, Men may their haughty hearts and necks controule, To bow unto his Ordinances; for, No soule shall enter in at mercies door But hee that to the Gospels folly shall Subdue his heart, and its affections all.* 1.22 And finally, as for the Jews I have [unspec 5] To Circumcision made my self a slave, So now by Baptism, for the Gentiles, I Must undergoe this Jordan's watry dy, That Jew and Gentile, bond and free, and all VVho for Salvation hunger, thirst and call; By mee may have a reconciling Peace, And, in mee, access to the throne of Grace. No deeper blush hath golden Phoebus when He hides his head in Peru's Ocean Then deth o're-shade the Baptiist's face, while as His weakness is display'd in wisdom's glass; Submitting then himself his thoughts and all, To the injunctions of his Generall,

They both goe straight to Jordan, that therein Christ may bee seal'd a surety for our sin. No sooner hath this milde sweet-coupled pair Trod on the frisled locks of Jordan's hair, When loe the Sun, forsaking th'opal morn Doth his meridian-poynt with pompe adorne, And, like a Prince, set in his royall throne, He calls his neighb'ring tapers one by one, Who by their intermixed torches seven, VVith matchless-splendor, cleer the cope of heav'n. Those steep proud hills, whose lofty swelling tops Drink, for their mornings-draught, Aurora's drops; Such as the Law-grac'd Sinay, Carmell old, VVhere Seraphims God's Prophet did enfold; Horab and Nebo, whose soft arms doe keep Moses and Aaron in their dusty sleep; Jegar-sha-duthae and mount Pisgah, whence Moses view'd Jacob's fair inheritance; The balm-rich Gilead, and mount Moriah, where The faith of Abram made him mercies heire, Link'd all together, clasp'd their hands to hand, And on their stately tip-toes trip, and stand To see him baptiz'd, whose fierce indignation Subverts the Sinewy props of their foundation.

Jordan himself, like Nereus eldest son, VVrap'd in a roab of pearle and Nacre's stone, No sooner sees his sweet approach, when loe, Hee curbs his streames from their accustom'd flowe, Who whilst they turn their back upon the deep, To see their maker, seem'd for joy to weep: Straight way there com'th that dainty swelling stream That fatt'h and lean'th proud Misraims Diadem,

The faire Euphrates, and Hydaspes, who Through Media's channell joynes with gentle Po; Chesel, Araxis, Volga, and that rill That waits on new-born Titan's hests and will, Rhine, Ister, Danube, Tanais, Tagus, Iber, Meander, Xanthus, Tygris, Po, and Tiber, Peneus, Orontes, and each Runnall else Which either softly slides, or proudly swells, Doe all to Jrodans flowry bank repaire, And of their intertexed locks and haire Compose a sumptuous Arrasse, richly sweet, To wipe the water off their Masters feet; In this enpamper'd crew great Jordan stands Bending his knees, and heaving up his hands, And to his Maker, in a pearle-like teare, Breaths this Congratulation in his eare:

Eternall Issue of th'Eternall Sire, Deep wisdome of that God whom th'heav'ns admire, Almighty Lord, all-seeing God, all's Maker, Here at thy foot-stoole we doe humbly sacre Our selves, our service, and our dearest love, As vassals to obey thy dread behove.

VVhil'st Nature, thus, and all her tender broods, Hills, valleyes, deserts, silver brooks and floods, Intranc'd with joy, conspire to solemnize This masque before their glorious Makers eyes, Behold our Shiloe, glad to undergoe That state wherein he should our sinnes o'rethrow, Steps down to Jordans silver streames, and there By John's enstall'd Copartner of our Care; And now, no sooner doth he step from out The liquid Current, and the chrystall Spout

Of Jordan, when to all the peoples eye Heav'ns act their part in this Festivitie, And by their rich applause confirm and seale The Covenant of Mercies Common-weale; For loe, heav'ns azur'd Arch is slop'd in twain, And from Jehovah's throne comes down amain A silver-feather'd Dove, who rests upon him, And hugs his head, as being enamour'd on him; With all from heav'ns high Senate comes a voyce Inviting all the world thus to rejoyce: Rejoyce O heav'ns, be glad O earth, and all That in the world doe creep, or breath, or crawl, For here's my welbeloved Sonne, in whom My wrath's appeas'd 'gainst sinners: Come, O come Today, if you will save your soules, draw neer him, And whil'st he opes his mouth in wisdome heare him. Now, now I see that harmlesse Dove un-stay'n, Who being sent out, returned home again, Holding within her bill an olive branch, To shew that Neptune then his wrath did quench, Was but a Type sent to presignifie The rest, the peace, the joy we have in thee.

O how thou'rt faire, exceeding faire, my Dove, Thy eyes have made my Soule ev'n sick with love, Thy neck is Ivory, Raven-black thy locks, Thy dwelling's in the top of Shenirs rocks; Faire Sharons Rose, Engeddyes sweet Camphire, The dew of Hermon, Gileads dainty Mirrhe, The Balm, the Alloes, and the Spice also Which Abanah, and Parphars valleyes show, Yeeld not so sweet a smell as doe thy lips, Whil'st thou on Bethers tops mak'st known thy trips:

Stay then my Darling, goe not hence away, The shady night can no more wrong the day, Whil'st with a sable furre she lops his eye To snort in midnights velvet Cannopy; Then thou shalt wound me to the death, if ever Thou shalt thy Rayes from my pale Moon dissever: Stay then my deare, and by that Spirit of thine Repaire, renew, reform this soule of mine, That like the harmlesse Dove, who without gall Still loves, and knowes not how to hate at all, My Soule may by the radiance of thy love Still wed her selfe to thee, who from above Hast brought the sacred Olive of our Peace T'establish mercy, where fierce wrath had place.

The Duell.

CANTO 2^o.

OFt have mine eares been filld, and eyes been fed With Raptures of that highly honored Al••mena's sonne, whose high and conqu'ring hand By victories obtain'd by Sea and Land, Hath made the trophies of his praise appear In all the stamps of Titan's bandilier: Oft have I wondred at the martiall acts, Heroick exploits, and same-famishing facts

Of Hector and Achilles, and that crew Of Greekes and Trojans, whose memorials grew To such a height, that Homer's golden pen Could never fully point them forth, but when He shut his eyes, lest by their active glory He should betray the tenor of their story: Oft have I stumbled to behold the great Distemper o'th' puissant Roman state, By Shylla and by Marius set on fire For satisfaction of their fond desire, Yet never quench'd, or yet blown out again, For all the armes or arts of France and Spain, Till Pompey and great Caesar, by the streames Of Rubicone, drench'd these Aetnaean flames: But wherefore doe I gaze this heathen stage? Did not th'Almighty in that selfe same age Raise up a Theater of brave Heroes, farre More eminent in Peace, more bold in warre Then any heathen who did e're make bold Or Mars his helm, or Mercur's pipe to hold: Great Joshuah, how didst thou stay the Sun In Gibeah; and in Ajalon, the Moon, Till Jacobs wormlings to the ground down brings The pride of five combin'd Canaans Kings? Shamgar, how did thy oxen-taming goad Serve gainst the Philistims for sword and rod, When Jabin's yoak the wearied necks did gall Of Jacob's seed, and gloried in their fall? How did brave Deborah by the conqu'ring hand Of Barak, Jabin's boasting troops withstand, And made their Generall Siserah, in the tent Of Jael, try Ambitions just event?

How did brave Gideon's barly-cake and lamp, Couch'd in an earthen-pitcher, daunt the Camp Of Midian, that so their night-bred dreame, Prov'd but a presage to their mornings Scaene? How did bold Sampson, peerless-pearle of Arms, Burst Gazae's gate-bars, and unlock the charmes Of Dalilah, and make an Asse jaw-bone Drunke with the blood of Gath and Askelon. In end, what Nymrod, or what Anak stern, Could ev'r their fame or honor so etern As hath the Son of Jesse, who at first Did kill a Lyon, and a wilde Boare burst; Then, by a peeble, which hee lately took From the sweet verge of a pure glyding brook, Did so subdue th'heathen Goliah's rage, Who did blaspheme th'Eternal's-heritage, That now wee see nor bragging breaths nor boasts Can save or kill as doth the Lord of hosts: All those like stars in dark Cymerian night Adorn'd their Orb with some small gleams of light, But being obfuscat by a cleerer ray, Have been the Prodroms of this better day: Our never setting Sun is now arisen, And by his rayes irradiats our Horizon In such a sort that those glow wormes may goe And spend their luster and their per'shing show Amongst the purblind wofull ignorants Of Mexica or Magallanae's Tents: Our way's made known, why walk we not therein? Our Truth's declar'd, why live we then to sin? Our life's proclam'd, why are we then dismai'd? Of death or hell why should we bee afraid?

Hath not our Goell, our great kinsman come, To pay our morgage, and redeem our sum? And that upon our blood-shedder he may The stroke of Justice awfully repay, Loe to the desert now he hies him, (there In all our suff'rings as copartiner,) That David like he may that Gyant foyl, Who in th'Eternalls hoast hath wrought such spoyl, And ever blessed be his glorious Name, Who comming up from Jordans chrystall stream, No sooner from his foot doth wipe the water, When to th' Arabians desert wilde Theater He's led by that same spirit which like a Dove Did from the heav'ns proclaim him; our soules Love, That in our flesh, as he our seale did take, So in it he might tryumph for our sake: For no such mediator we must have As scornes our griefes, infirmities, or grave; But such a one, as being exempt from sin In all things else, must run the race we run.

Thrice three ten yeers hath my Redeemer now Liv'd in the world, and yet for ought I know Sathan, untill this time, durst ne'er be bold, 'Gainst him to set a snare, his foot t' enfold: His privat life, 't may be, procur'd his ease, His publike charge, must taste of trecheries: Like Jacob, who with Laban whil'st he stayes Had Peace and rest, and amorous quirks, and playes; But being call'd by God, to get him home, False hearted Laban after him can come And search his stuffe, prepar'd to doe him wrong, Unlesse the mighty God, of strongs the strong,

Had curb'd him in his night bred Visions so, That maugre envy, he must let him goe: Whil'st Moses stayes in Aegypt, Pharo's daughter Preserves him safe from Pharoh's threatned slaughter; But when he comes for Israels reliefe, He 'mongst the sonnes of persecution's chiefe: Whil'st David kept his fathers Ewes, in peace To God he warbled Hymns, and Odes of grace; But call'd to Court, and to the stage of fame, Wrath, rancour, envy, plyes his Diadem: So whil'st my Saviour, both by Incarnation And by the highest heav'ns Inauguration, Stands as the very sonne of God and Man, Anoynted our Redeeming Soveraign, Loe, neither can the seale nor gift of grace, Exempt him from hels envy'n any case; For grace cannot prevent, it may repell The stratagems of Perdue Centiuell, But still the more the Lord with grace decores us, The stronger fetters Sathan sett's before us: O God, therefore, since thy Sonne is not free, But grace it self must taste of enmitie; What carefull watchings should we wormlings take 'Gainst this perfidious spirituall Amaleck, Who daring to assail the head, shall sure The heels destruction, if he can, procure: Since then I see it is that glorious Spirit, Which he from all etern'ty did inherit; Ev'n that great spirit, of th' Almighty God Whose word comforts us, under whose sharpe rod The very hell doth tremble, whose high hand None of thy creatures could e're yet withstand,

Who rideth on the blustring windes swift wings, Who makes the Clouds his messengers, who brings Or penury, or plenty by his rain, Who walketh dry-foot on the Ocean, Why should we in tentations deepest jarre Feare Chance or Fortunes lying Kalendar? For, all the pow'rs of darknesse and of hell Cannot make one haire of our head to fall, Till he whose pow'r and pleasure plac'd them there Bids either Justice smite, or Mercy spare; For he it is who leads us to our fight, And sends us blowes according to our might, And wheresoe're we fight, he goes along Both to encourage us, and make us strong, And when w'have fought our fight, gives us reward, As his deep wisedome hath for us prepar'd: I magnifie my Saviour then, who here Doth boldly in Tentations lists appeare, And by his rare example tells us how To keep our posture, and our foes subdue, The Philistims by Sampson smarting sore And often, did his Dalilah implore She would by all meanes possible but try Wherein his strength and sinewy force did lye, That, knowing that, they might him so dis-arm, As never after they might feare his harm: Then, O how carefull should we be to learn, And, in our halcyon dayes and times, discern The traps, the snares, and the bewitching tricks That's put before us by the Prince of Styx; That so, foreseeing his Engines, we may Or burst his snares, or safely flie away.

Loe how, Colossus like, in Horebs plain He stands; thence skips to Neboes top again; From thence to Sions pinacle he flies, Like lightnings flashes, darting through the skies: Never did Proteus with more change of shape Beguile the world, than doth this trickling Ape With change of colours, feature, form, and all, My Masters fixed sense sense seek to enthrall; Three deeply poyson'd darts are in his hand, Which flesh and blood alone could ne're withstand; The lust of heart is one, Lifes pride another, The lust of th'eye is third, their first-born brother, And he who from all those can keep him free Hath more than flesh and bloods excellency; For he who in the Van doth play his part, May in the Main battalion shrink and smart; And who hath fought them both, may in the Reer Prove worthy nothing, but a sod Cashiere.

The first da••t, then, about his head he shakes, And'gainst our Master this assault he makes; If it be true that heav'n hath spoke, saith he, If thou be Gods true Sonne, then let me see Some token of it, that I may believe He hath a care of thee, that thou mayst live: [unspec 1] Full forty dayes thou hast been here alone, Wand'ring, and wond'ring in this Mansion; Earth yeelds no bread, the brooks doe yeeld no water, The Downes no Locust, Combes no honney scatter, Clouds yeeld no Manna, Ravens take no care To feed thee with their flesh-pots, late or ear, Sarepta's widow doth not breake her Cake Which for her own last dinner she did bake:

Is this th'Almighties care, is this his love, Which he of late did unto thee improve As to his Sonne; that thou should'st starve, and dye By famine and extream necessity? No, get thee up, exchange these stones to bread, Eat freely then, and be thou satisfi'd; For skin to skin, and all the worlds rich choise Man will renounce, before his life he lose.

Full forty dayes I have been here (proud Clown)* 1.23 Replies my Saviour, and have beaten down This flesh of mine, with fasting all the while, That in this Lent of mine I might beguile Thy pur-blinde eyes, whose chiefest aime and straine Is but to crush my flesh, because humane: Moses my servant, neere this place, before Fasted as long, whil'st Sinay's tops did rore: And he who Baal's folly did proclame, Full forty dayes did try the same extreame; Yet neither th'one nor th'other sought to thee For help in their extream necessitie; But, by my Fathers strengthning power, they Were without outward meanes maintain'd alway: My Father without bread or water can Maintain that life which he hath giv'n to man: The heav'ns on Israel did Manna powre, Like Coriander, in a snow-white showre; To some he doth lifes meanes, miraculously Beyond their expectation, multiply, That when they look'd t'have kept nothing in store, Their nothing still increas'd and grew the more: Then, to distrust my Fathers providence, T'abuse my power, and under the pretence

Of working miracles t'obey thy will, Were base in me, and a prodigious ill: Indeed man lives by bread, but that's not all, Each word which from my Fathers mouth doth fall Must either blesse the bread to man, or then It shall not nourish him, 't shall prove his bane.

Thus hath the venemous snake his first dart flung, Yet hath it neither wounded, hurt, nor stung My Saviour, for his still uncharmed eare, Without impression, that assault did heare: A second dart therefore the Traitor tryes, And that it may prevaile, he proudly flies Unto the top of Salems Temple, there To crush by pride, what's not crush'd by dispair; The first tentation's ground was starving want, Now doth presumptuous plenty charm in chant, For where one poore extream can never doe it, He hath another, and he puts us to it: Jerusalem is now the worlds chiefe glory, The Temple is Jerus'lems highest story, The Pinacle's the loftiest step of that, There is my Saviour by the Tempter set.

[unspec 2] I have desir'd thee to make bread of stones, Saith the proud murth'rer; but behold, at once Thou didst reply; Thy Fathers providence Would shelter thee from Natures indigence: Come then, come, let us try thy Fathers power; Cast thy selfe down from top of this high tower, For well I know whats writ in David's book, And thou mayst learn it, when thou list to look, That he hath giv'n his Angels astrict charge To bear thee in their armes, as in a Barge,

To keep thee safe and sound in flesh and bone,* 1.24 Lest thou shouldst dash thy foot against a stone.

How long shall I now suffer thee (damn d dogge)* 1.25 Saith my Redeemer, like a wallowing hogge Disturb my sacred Cisterns? by such wiles The Sonnes of Adam alwaies thou beguiles, It is no new thing to heare thee blaspheme, This is the program of thy Academe, Grace hath abounded, man may sinne the more; Elected and Redeem'd, trip still therefore; The spirit of bondage and of feare is gone, Burst then the fetters of Adoption: O how it wounds me, thus to heare thee tare My sacred Oracles with poysoned aire, As if in them there were not couch'd such truth As could both comfort age, and confound youth! I know 'tis written, but I know as well There's something written there thou dost conceal, And dar'st not utter, for it would declare The snaky sophism of thy subtile snare; [In all thy wayes] thou dost omit this stance, Yet here's the rule of Gods great providence; If man would wish, or hopefully expect The safe protection of the bless'd elect, He must not wander in his fancies measure, Or tread the wandring path of his own pleasure, But in the path of that Saint-beaten rode That's pointed out unto him by his God, If so he walke, he shall be safe and sure, If otherwise, his death he shall procure. Art not thou now asham'd, so treacherously To wrest th'Eternals truth, impudently

To cut asunder that which God conjoyns, And with an endlesse falshood gird thy loyns? Take then from out that sacred Scriptures fountain A stone cut without hands, from out the mountain, To split thy forehead from out David's sling, And curb the poyson'd venome of thy sting: Behold it's written both to man and thee, Tremble and feare, doe not presume too high; For who so wanders from this beaten rode, Doth tempt the Lord, and lift his heel 'gainst God.* 1.26

[unspec 3] Yet once more must this murtherer goe fling His last and finall dart against our King: The blast of fainting, and of black dispaire, Nor of presumptions fire-ball, thrown i'th'aire, Have not prevail'd; yet will he not be quiet, But ayming at his envies richer diet, He sets my Saviour on a steep high mountain, From which each river, and each bubling fountain, Each pearly mead, and shady shelt'ring grove Where either Serpents hisse, or Satyrs rove, Each vinyard drunk with grapes, or cloi'd with clusters, And ev'ry place where pleasure makes her musters, And ev'ry other sense-contenting thing Which to a carnall minde content can bring, Are in an eyes short twinkling set before him, And promis'd to him, if he would adore him: See'st thou not those, sayes he, all those be mine, View, take, possesse them, I will make them thine, And with their title I will here endow thee? If thou wilt once but bow thy knees unto mee.

Now, now, and ne'er till now, did my Redeemer Waxe fierce with fury 'gainst this bold blasphemer:* 1.27

What? Bow to thee, thou foul abortive slave? Thou dust eater? thou canker of the grave? Thou down-faln star? thou filthy proud glow-worm? Whose fall yet fils both Earth and Seas with storm: Proud begger slave, thou saist the world is thine; And yet it is the Lords, and all therein, The treasures of the winds, the cloudes of Raine, The wine press'd grapes, and all the sheaves of graine, The fishes of the Sea, the fowls o' th' aire, The beasts o' th' Earth that nibble here and there, The floods, the rivers, watry ponds and lakes Which from the clouds, or ocean, welspring takes, The walled Cities, and rich stored shops, The honny combs, and those Elixar'd drops Of balm, myrhe, incense, Nard, and sweet perfume That serves to deck the bride and the bridegroom, The warriour, the master of the schoole, The young, the old, the wise, and eke the foole, The Counsell tables, and the Courts of Kings, And all the treasures that the earth forth brings Are onely his; he giveth them, and when He thinks it fitting, takes them back again: Those thou hast set before me, yet dost hide The hidden moaths that frets their inner side; As if I did not know, what weal and woe Daunce in a circle wheresoe're they goe; What? can our wealth or want my minde betray? Can peace bewitch me, or can warre affray My fixed thoughts? thy eyes are cloid with gravell, And so thou losest both thy toyle and travell: Can sicknesse, health, life, death, vain glory, shame, Or any other worldly anatheme

Make me forget my Father, or forgot One jot of that true worship which I owe Unto him? No, go, get thee gone, avoid Proud Sathan, for thou knowst not things of God, But things of men; from this I will not swerve, That's writ, The Lord thy God alone goe serve, And worship; yea, beside him worship none, For that shall turn to thy confusion.

The Doctor

CANTO 3^o.

AS when the Sunne, obliqu'ly looking on A roride cloud, frames a Parelion; But looking with a streight oppos'd aspect On Phoebe, makes herhis full rayes reflect; So when from Jordans streams our great Messiah Went to the desert; our late born Eliah, Although the bridegrooms friend, yet seem'd to weep For fear a hyreling should disperse his sheep: But seeing him victoriously return, This joy-bred fire doth in's bosome burn; O how my Soule doth now rejoyce (sayth he) To see the Sonne of Man march valiantly, Returning from the desert, Sathans den, Cloth'd with the spoyle of sinne, for sinfull men!

Loe where he commeth, full of grace and truth, No man in such abundance opes his mouth; He was before me, though he now doth follow, Eternity his Majesty doth hollow, From out his fulnesse we doe all receive Grace upon grace, and what good else we have; The Law was giv'n by Moses, but by him Comes grace, and truth, and peace, wherein we swim: No man at any time hath seen the Father, Save this his sonne, from whose hid hands we gather That hidden Manna, and those Quailes by which Our soules are fed, and we to life made rich: He commeth to the world, for it he made, Yet in it hath no place to rest his head; He commeth to his own, yet they refuse him; He commeth to the builders, they abuse him: But unto all that doe receive him, he Shall give this glory and prime dignity, That they the sonnes of God shall all be call'd, And, as true heires of heaven, be there enstall'd; Even unto such as in his name believe, To whom nor Nature, flesh, nor blood can give The new-births note, but onely that great God Who in our flesh hath made his full abode: And that it may be known that this is he, Goe you my sonnes, goe, get you up, draw nigh Unto him, clasp him in your soules soft armes, For he's the Antidote for all your harmes.

At these fore-warnings John and Andrew goe And greet him thus: Great Rabbi, let us know Where thou dost dwell? so shall we joy to see The mansion of thy true felicity.

Where I doe dwell? saith he; let him that would My dwelling know, look on the foxes hold And sparrows nests; for they have rooms wherein Their young ones nestle, and their doune begin; O but the Sonne of man hath no place where To rest his head, save only this poore ayre That every creature breaths, and this is all He counteth his; and this at last shall fall: If you will therefore follow me, quit-clame What ever in this world doth sumptuous seem, Take up your crosse and follow me, and so You shall my dwelling, and my riches know; For who so shall reject my Crosse, and blame't, Of him in glory I shall be asham'd; But who so shall my Crosse with patience bear. He shall with me in glory rest coheire.

No sooner hath he spoke these words, when loe As swift as arrow shot from Indian bow, Andrew doth to his brother Symon run, And with these tydings of Salvation Accosts him; Brother, I have found the great Messith, whom the world expect'd of late, The Saviour Christ, the holy, and th'annoynted Great Peace-maker, by Prophets all forth pointed; Come, come, I pray th' let our hearts draw near him, And while 'tis call'd to day, ô let us heare him. Symon ariseth, and with Andrew go'th To see the miracle of Time and Truth; But ere he can within true distance come, Christ cals him by his name; Thou'rt welcome home Thou sonne of Jonah, saith he, this thy name Of Symon, hence I change, with better fame,

Thou shalt be call'd Cephas, that is, a Stone, For thou shalt help to lay a foundation, 'Gainst which the Devill and the gates of hell May freely push, but never shall prevaile.

A little after this, in Galile As Jesus walked, he did Philip see, And bids him follow him; he straight obeyeth, But by the way Nathaniel he espyeth; Nathaniel, saith he, come, we have sound The man, of whom the Scriptures doe abound, Whom Moses and the Prophets have fore-told According to the promises of old: Nathaniel gladly girdeth up his loynes, And with his fellow Philip journey joynes; But e're Nathaniel can come neere unto him, Christ spies him, and with these sweet words doth woe him: Come, come Nathaniel, come thou voyd of guile, The Sun on such another doth not smile In all Judaea's Coasts. What's this I heare, Saith just Nathaniel? e're I can come neere One cals me by my name: whence dost thou know me? For in the face, till now, I never saw thee. Nathaniel, saith Christ, that's nothing; for, E're Philip call'd thee, I thee knew before, When under the fig-tree thou naked stood, Copartiner with Adam in his blood. O now, my God, Nathaniel saith, I see Thou art the very Sonne of the most High, And promis'd King of Israel, who should give Life to all such as in thee doe believe.

The night now come, Christ to the mountain goeth, Where all the while he to the heav'n upthroweth

His supplications, with strong cries and tears, And graciously is heard in what he fears: Next morning to his service he doth call Matthew, and Thomas, Barthol mew, and all The rest of those Disciples, whom he meant To make the Preachers of his Covenant?

O happy, blessed, blessed, happy Call! It doth no sooner touch their ears at all, When straight it doth their starving soules renew, And their affections to his will subdew: Speak alwaies so my God, and by thy grace Say to my fainting Soule, seek thou my face; And my poore Soule shall answer as appear'th, Speak what thou wilt ô Lord, thy servant heareth: When thou at first did'st lay the worlds foundation Thou did'st but speake, and all this all's creation Did to thy great Imperiall word obey, Loe, here shin'd light, their shady darknes lay; Here Hill's proud tops did on their tiptoes stand, There did the Ocean roare against the sand; Here on the floury bottoms fragrant mead The nibling troups securely prank and feed; There in the bosome of the glassie deep The scaly nations softly swim and creep; The ayrie legions scud along the skies, As if they meant the Welkin to surprise; And every thing that hath or life, or sense, To thy command'ment gave obedience: And whil'st thou com'st an old world new to make, No other toole nor mattock thou wilt take But that same word of thine, that thou mai'st still By thy great Word thy glorious Will fulfill.

Since by thy Word then, which is only wise. Thou dostillighten thy Disciples eyes, O let me heare thee, in great Moses chaire, Confound those Rabbins whom the world admire, That by thy Doctrine I may learn that wit Which never nat'rall man could teach as yet. To Nazareth he goeth, and entring there, Unto their Synagogue he doth repaire, And reads in Esayes volume, this sweet text;* 1.28 Jehovahs Sp'rit is me, let all vex'd With sinne afflicted hearts, come heare my word, For I am the annoynted of the Lord, Whom he hath sent his Gospell to proclame, To free the Captives, and restore the lame, Give sight unto the blinde, binde up the bruised, And give them grace, who doe not quite refuse it.

This day, saith he, this Text is now fulfil'd, This day is grace down from the heav'ns distill'd, And happy he, who heareth and believeth In him who this Salvation freely giveth; But veng'ance shall his portion be, who stops His ears against my heav'n elixer'd drops: Doe not you call to minde, how that of old From Ebals threatning tops it was foretold, A thousand curses should fall down upon A sinfull froward generation; But who so should their soules enclinet obey The sacred Sanctions of the mount Siney, Ten thousand blessings from Gerizims store Should on their heads be multiplied, and more: Now is the time, and here am I the man From out whose mouth or curse, or blessings can

Receive effect or force to save or kill, They heare my word, and they obey my will.

Blessed is he therefore, whose heart is pure, For of my heav'nly kingdome he is sure; Blessed are they who hunger for my grace, They shall be fill'd, and satisfied with peace; Blessed are they who doe in secret mourn, Their sorrows to their solace shall return; Blessed be you, when men, for my name sake. Shall of your life and goods proud havock make; Blessed be you, when 'gainst you men speak evill, And call you sonnes of Beliall and the Devill, For what they derogat from your regard They adde against their will to your reward, Yea bless'd, and more then blessed shall you be When you be thrust from their societie, Thrust from their Synagogu's, excommunicate, Rebuk'd, blaspheam'd, and all disconsolate, Be not dismaid, but rather be you glad, The Prophets old no better service had, The Sonne of man himselfe shall so be us'd, Contemn'd, reproach'd, disdain'd, and fouly brus'd, And sure I am, that when the master hath No softer shelter, and no surer path, The servant should not grudge, nor yet disdaine If with his master he shall share like paine: But wo to such whose riches shall abound, Whose heart and hands are in their store house sound; I tell you truly, they have their reward, No after pleasure is for them prepar'd: Woe, woe to those who laugh, and never weep, Destruction to their soules doth softly creep:

Woe, woe to such as vainly cry, peace, peace, Thinking the mountaine cannot change his place; For sorrow, griefe, and plagues shall on them come Like travell on a womans burth'ned wombe; Stoln bread and water sweet are to the taste, But gall and worm-wood's easier to digest: Blesse you therefore such as doe curse you, for If you shall blesse your friends, and doe no more, What honour can you crave of God, by them Who live estrang'd from God? they doe the same: Doe good to those who harm you; pray for those Who persecute your Soules with griefes and woes; Give to all such as aske you, freely len▪, And look for no requitall back agen; So shall you show your selves th' Almighty's sonnes, When you be cloath'd with his perfections: You are this worlds chief salt; while you have savour Your work with God and Men shall finde true favour; But if you lose your savour, then your taste Shall all your service to the dunghill cast: You are a Citty, set upon a hill, Which to the worlds proud gaze stands object still; Dream not you can be hid, all eyes are on you, And all mens motions doe depend upon you; If whil'st they wander in an oblique Car, Your course prove constant, like a fixed Star; If whil'st they stumble in Cymerian night, You walk in Goshen, like the sonnes of light; Whil'st muddy cares doe their best joyes controle, If your affections rest above the Pole; If whil'st their runnalls, Marah like, prove tart, Your springs drink sweet, and so rejoyce the heart;

If whil'st they hold in hand a fruitlesse goad, You bud ripe Almonds, like to Arons rod; If whil'st a stranger cals you, you repine, And know no shepheards voice but only mine; In all your wayes if you shall still intend Your masters glory and no other end, Then ô how happy, happy thrice you be! Life is your lot, your term eternitie.

Then feare not man, whose hand can doe no more But kill the body; feare God rather, for When he hath kil'd the body, yet he can Powre out destruction on the soule of man, And send both soule and body down to hell. In chains of darknesse, and of death to dwell. 'Tis true, those precepts which I now doe Preach Exceed the narrow bounds of humane reach; Yet though the flesh be weak, the Spirit's strong, And grace can rectifie stern natures wrong: Think not I come to put the law at under, Or what the Lord hath joyn'd to cut asunder; No, no, the Law and Gospell be two brothers, The sonnes of one man, though of severall mothers, That, Hagars brood, who unto bondage beareth, This Sarahs sonne, who's free, and nothing feareth; That's Sinays suckling, who with terrour shaketh, This Syons nursling, whom no feare awaketh; That first, this last, that strong, but this the stronger, And so the elder must needs serve the younger; The Law requireth works, the Gospell Faith, Both have one ayme, though in a severall path, For he who sweetly speaketh in them both Is but one God, and one same sp'rit of truth;

Works without faith are like to fig-tree leaves, Which seem to shelter, but in end deceive's; And faith, unlesse good works doe crown her head, May seem to live, yet's spirit'ally dead; For as faith laying hold on th' Mediator, Makes man stand just before the just Creator, So works joyn'd unto faith, tells, that faith's true Which works by love, and doth mens lusts subdue: Then preach them both, keep both, and so you shall Your selves and others both to rest recall.

Doe not you know when many run a Race With panting breasts, and sweat-besmeared face, He onely who proves constant to the end Obtaines the Crown; but if he shall offend And stumble at the stumbling stones i'th' way, His stumbling makes his honour to decay: If men, then, for a temporall Crown take pain, And strive so hardly for a sading gain, How much more should the uncorrupted Crown Of glory, honour, and dominion, Make you to run your race without cessation, Since your reward's eternall consolation: Be carefull therefore that your masters name By your neglect be not expos'd to shame; And that whil'st others by your words be saved, You of your masters joy be not be reaved.

A certaine Sower on a time went forth To sow his seed of rich and pretions worth; And as he sow'd, some by the way-side fell, And that the soules of th'aire did quickly smell, And pickt it up; Some fell in stony ground, That took no root, because no earth it found;

Some amongst thorns did fall, that straight did spring, And yet was choak'd by their o're-shadowing; Some fell in fertile ground, and taking root, Did to the Sower bring expected fruit According to his travell, toyl, and pain, The thirty, sixty, and the hundreth grain. I am the husband-man, my word's the seed; If that doth perish, it doth not proceed From Sower, from the seed, or from the season, For those were all combin'd in right and reason To work a happy harvest, But mans heart Is that unhappy ground, in whose each part Such hidden store of deep corruptions lye As turn'th my toil unto fond vanrtie: For sometime Sathan vultur-like doth pray Upon the word, and beares it quite away; Sometime mans obdur'd heart more hard then stone Rejects my word by induration; Sometime the thorny cares of humane life Mix'd with the word, are at such mutuall strife, That what at first takes root, doth very now To persecutions storm and tempest bow, In such a sort, that root, and stalk, and blade In this their conflict's quickly vanquished; The fertile ground's the faithfull heart, that doth Return unto th'industrious hand that sow'th So rich an increase, that for every ten The master hath a thousand back again: Watch therefore, lest while as you sleep there come The envious man, who in the good seeds roome Sowes darnell, cockle, and those cursed tares Which cursed and malignant ground forth-beares:

For to your master you must make accompt Of what you sow, and eke what doth surmount, He will not have his own true seed alone, He needs must have reduplication; The heav'ns and earth may perish, but one jot Of this my Doctrine shall not be forgot, Till all things be accomplished, which either Concerns my glory, or my glorious Father.

The Powers

CANTO 4^o.

WHen Moses followed Jethroes fleecie flocks, And made them graze on Horebs golden locks, At unawares he look'd aside, and spies A bush on fire, whose flame to heav'n up flies, The bush still burns, and yet remains unburned, To dust and ashes it can not be turned: O what a strange, prodigious sight, saith he, Is this which now's presented to mine eye! A crackling thorne, a fierce consuming fire In mutuall conflict, yet doe both conspire To shew the world the strangest, rarest theam That e're was toss'd in natures A cadeam! I will therefore goe view 't; but by the way A voice proceeding from the bush can say,

Stay Moses, stay, doe not approach too nigh, Corruptions can not dwell with Majesty; Cast thy shoes off thy feet, for it is found The place whereon thou stand'st is holy ground; Yet since I see thee beg with fresh desire, To search the secrets of this scorching fire, Heare what I tell thee: Loe, this burning bush Doth represent my Church, which by the push Of Pharoah's proud oppression's brought so low, That she doth almost faint by his ov'rthrow, Yea, that shee's not consumed in that flame Comes from my power, who am what I am; Her hid corruptions call for my corrections, My promise to her Fathers pleads protection; The one she bears, the other in short time Shall wound her foes, and expiate her crime; My word shall teach her, and my power shall heal The wounds and bruises of my Israel: What here was promis'd to the Church before The Law from Sinay's thundring tops did roare, Is now accomplish'd in the Gospels day, For by his word he points her first the way, Then by his dread mirac'lous power doth cure The sad distempers of her imposture: Who doubts his power, let him but make bold, And view the wond'rous works he wrought of old; Consider Moses hand put in his bosom By Leprosie tnrn'd white like Aprils blossom, Consider Nilus streams turn'd unto blood, Consider Israel fed with Angels food, Remember how Rephidim's rock's a poole, And Mara's rill made sweet in Israels bowle,

The Sun in Gibeah stands a whole day still; An Asse controles her foolish riders will; Fire comes from Heav'n, and dryes Eliahs trench; A sonne is giv'n to Shunam't gratious wench; Jonah's preserved by a swallowing Whale; The Lyons stoope and crouch to Daniel; Three children walking in a fi'ry flame Lose not one haire, their clothes are free fro th' same: All those as wonders did attend his Law, And to his word did yeeld respective aw; And shall the Gospels message of our peace Lack her attendants? no, in any case, His pow'r shall still accompany his word, And by those two shall all things be restor'd, That mans indured heart, by those two, may Read Lectures of his truth, and love each way:

Come then proud Scribe, come doting Pharisee, Come wrangling Lawyer, come along with me, And see what wonders are in Juda done, Then judge, if your Messiah be not come: In Cana's village, last day there was made A Nuptiall banquet richly furnished, Not with luxurious superflu'ties store, But with satieties plenty, and no more; The bidden guests doe come, 'mongst many other Christ Jesus commeth, and his Virgin Mother, That by his presence he might sanctifie Gods Ordinance, and Mans societie; The friends are plac'd, the tables richly cloy'd, The bowls of wine are here and there convoy'd, And no things lack, that true content would have, Or measure wish, or moderation crave,

Yet as it often unto men befalls, Some crosse doth still attend their festivalls, Their wines are spent, his mother tells him so; Woman, saith he, what's this I have adoe With thee? my 'pointed time is not yet come, Yet for thy sake I'le shew my self to some; Cause bring me here fixe water-pots of stone Which you use for Purification: They bring them to him: Fill them now, saith he, With fountain water, that I may them see; Fill, fill them full, fill them unto the brim, And with true fountain water make them swim: 'Tis done: he looketh on them, and anon, O strange, mirac'lous, rare Conversion! Without his word the water's turn'd to wine, Sweet as the Malmsey, rich as Muscadine: Drink woman now faith he, drink, drink, and fill To others also; Cana's grapes distill Not such a wine as doth my word, therefore Bid them come drink who love to thirst no more: But all's in vain, I bid men drink: for why? Nothing but blood will mans soules thirst allay. O God, what heav'nly hierogly phick's here Of that sweet Nectar, and Ambrosian cheere Which thou, our soules Bride-groom, shalt for us make When to thy Cana thou shalt us home take! For there our mariage-supper is prepar'd, Legions of Angels shall thy Bride still guard, The fatling's kill'd, thy bowles of wine are drawn, Thy table-cloaths are dainty Cyprian lawn, Thy bed of love is made, and richlier hung Then that where th'Epithalamy was sung

To Salomon and Pharoh's daughter, for Their best magnificence and proudest store Endur'd but for a time; but this for ever Shall satiate his guests, and finish never: In Cana water was exchang'd to wine, But in thy house whoso shall sit and dine Shall with the fatnes of thy house be fill'd, And drunk with that sweet rill thy side distill'd Whil'st on the Crosse thou stretch'd thy armes abroad T'imbrace thy Bride, and heave her to her God: O then, since all things that be necessare For such a wedding feast, thou dost prepare, Prepare our hearts also to meet thee, when Thou call'st us from out Meshechs sinfull den, That so the Bride-groom and his Virgin-bride May in the Tents of love for ever bide.

From Cana to Capernaum next day My blessed Saviour undertakes his way, Where dwelt a reverend grave Centurion Whose servant's sick; in whose compassion The Captain comming unto Christ, doth thus Intreat him: Master, master pitty us, For loe my servant's with a Palsie taken, And of all hopes of health is quite forsaken; Since then all hopes of humane helps be gone, And we be left to mourn his griefes alone, I pray thee let thy helping hand supply His great distemper and necessity. Goe, saith my Saviour, get thee home, for I Will quickly come, and cure his malady. No, saith the grave Centurion, take no pain Great master, to turmoile thy selfe in vain,

I am not worthy that thou (glorious thou) To come within my roof thy self shouldst bow, Speak but the word alone, and he shall live, For, that thy word can heale him I believe; Loe, I am one set in authoritie, Subdew'd to one, and many unto me; To one I say, goe hither, and he go'th; T' another, doe this, and that straight he doth; Unto a third, I say come, and he commeth; Thus what I will is done, and none presumeth To disobey what I command, my word For their obedience is a law assur'd. When Jesus heares those words, he stands amaz'd, And on the following troops a while he gaz'd, And saith at length, In truth and veritie Such faith in Israel I did never see; But this I tell you, that the time's at hand, VVhen many from the VVest and East shall stand VVithin my Churches faithfull glorious pale, And be baptiz'd as sonnes of Israel, And with old Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, they Shall eternize a solemne holy day; VVhile as the children of the kingdome shall In utter darknesse mourn a Madrigall: Goe, therefore saith he, to the Captain, goe And as thou hast believed, even so Be it to thee: and at that very houre, The servants life and health was made secure: O God, how dost thou by this grave dispute To Japhets children freely contribute The promise of eternall life, if they By faith shall on thy words their rest relye:

Give us therefore what of us thou requir'st, And then require of us what thou desir'st.

Now babling fame hath took her wings to flie Through all the neighboring Regions farre and nigh, And make the glorious powers of this man Controll the Earth, and daunt the Ocean, For whatsoere he doth is quickly told, And in fames Ephimerides inroll'd. To shun therefore the peoples vain applause, Whose changing currents oftner ebbs then flowes, Down to Tiberi••'s sea he goes, that thence He may show favour to the Gadarens: But whil'st he's in the ship, his former toile Perswades him in a sleep to rest a while; His eyes are scarcely shut, when loe, dark clouds Obscure the heav'n, and proud Aeolian thuds Distemper so the Main, that Neptunes locks Wax hoary-white with dashing 'gainst the rocks; Here one pround wave doth Babel-like arise, And with tumultuous threats affronts the skies; Another, here, falls to so vast a deep, That Pluto's wak'ned from his morning sleep: A midst this surly gust the poor ship's ross'd, And with impetuous windes and tides so cross'd, That his Disciples in their feare doe rore, And for their health their masters help implore, Help, help great master (say they) help, awake, And on thy perishing train some pitty take, For if thou doe not now extend thy power, This swallowing tempest will our soules devoure: He straight awakes, and unto them he saith, O you of trembling hearts, and fainting faith!

What doe you fear? Peace winds, faith he, th' are still, Peace raging Seas; and they grow calm at will; By this the Ship is brought unto the shore, And neither winds nor seas molest them more.

O thou controller of the windes commotion! O thou dread daunter of th' undaunted Ocean! Speak peace to our tumultuous souls, for why, Unlesse our sp'rituall tempests thou allay, Unlesse thou swage and calme their storms in time, We sinke and perish, for we cannot swim.

No sooner were the windes by is word appeas'd, No sooner's Neptune by his word asswag'd, When Jesus with his few Disciples goe To Gadara, that they his power might know: But by the way, that Sp'rit who works our spight, And in our ruines takes his chiefe delight, Having intrench'd in his prodigious roles, The mortall bodies, not th' immortall soules Of two poore men, while as they see him come Like ramping Lyons, and like Boars in fome, Th' approach his presence, and in fury cry, Jesus thou sonne of God, who dwel'st on high, What have we here to doe with thee? for this Of our just torment in the deep abysse Is not the full time, and we suffer wrong If there before due time thoudost us throng. What is your name? sayth he: they answer, Legion, For we be many in this humane region, And as thy Father is the Lord of hoasts So we, as many, love to scoure their coasts: Come out, come out saith he, you cursed crew, And of these wretches take your last adiews.

If we must needs goe out, then let us goe Say they, and enter in those swine, for loe Whan thou ejects us from this Isle of man, Thy little world, we must doe what we can To rob him of his best approved pulse, And nestle there because we lose himselfe. Goe, goe saith he; they goe, and take possession Of those poore beasts, and in so fearfull fashion, That they no sooner feel their grievous yoak, But to the Sea they run, and there they choak: O glorious thou, who to the world didst come T' unlose those snares which Sathan thrusts on some, And leav'st some others to those sp'rituall bands Which in eternall darknesse prison stands, Restrain our enemies rage, controll his power, Lest his assaults doe our poore soules devoure.

Ne'er did a swarm of hony sucking Bees Pursue a Waspe from out their Colonies With greater spight, or more enraged spleen, Then doth that blockish beastly Gadaren. Republick thrust my Saviour from their coast, Because of these few swine which they had lost: O the blind change and choise o'th' sonnes of men, Who ere they lose this worlds poore pelf, will len' Their Soules a pray to Sathan and betray A lasting glory for a moments pay! With speed therefore my Saviour homeward goeth, Because they loth'd his power and his truth; And there behold a croud of sick folks lie A waiting him to cure their Maladie; For some ev'n from their mothers wombe lay lame, Some Leprous, some Lethargique and some maim,

Some with an Apoplexy were o'retaken, Some with a paralitioue blow were shaken, Some with a Dissenterie doe decay, Some with a Calcule on their reines doe cry, Here one had eyes, but now he's dark and blind, Here one was wise, but now's distract in mind, A menstruall flux doth here distain a woman, A burning Ague to another's common; All those he healeth, and so doing hath Gain'd many a Pros'lyte to the Christian faith: But above all, I stand amaz'd to spy How at Bethesdaes poole huge heaps doe lye Of poor, weak, sick, diseased persons, who Attend her motions and her watry flow, For here an Angell, at some speciall season, Beyond all reach of humane sense and reason, By moving of the waters gave release To all that were diseas'd in any case, Providing alwaies, that they stepping down Should drench themselves in her first motion: An hieroglyphick of our Baptims washing, Whose watry streames can never cleanse our tashing Unlesse th'Arch-angell of the Covenant Joyne his dread power to the Element, A man oppress'd full eight and thirty yeere With strange diseases, is at last brought here, On whom Christ Jesus having fix'd his eyes, Doth not enquire what were his maladies, Where those his griefs did hold him, or how long He had been bound with that infirm'ties thong? But only asks him if he would be cured? Of that, saith he, great Master be assured,

I hunger for my health, but can not stirre To taste this waters first distemperature, I cannot helpe my self, and none I have To help me, when their helping hand I crave, Another alwayes stepping down before me Is cur'd; and I, as if all did abhorre me, Must this my griefe and languishing sustain, Till he who wounds me binde me up again: Rise, rise, then saith my Saviour, rise and walk, I pitty thy distresse, I heare thy talk; The poore man riseth as Christ doth appoint, And is restor'd to health in every joynt: Behold, saith Christ, poore man, now thou art whole, And from thy crown unto thy very sole There is no bruise; goe, goe, and sinne no more Lest worse befall thee, then thou felt'st before.

Glad should I be, if my poore Muse had breath To follow my Redeemer in that path Of strange stupendious miracles, whereby In flesh he did expresse his Deity: But wearied now, she needs must rest a while, And draw away her Pencill from that toile Which he from place to place did undertake, To ease our sorrows for his mercies sake: Only this one poore thing she must relate, How he did L••••arus re-animate, That in his Resurrection we may see Our Resurrections rich felicity.

As Chyrstall brooks have still the broader course The neerer they approach great Neptunes sourse; So now the neerer that my Saviours dayes Draw to an end, the more he still displayes

His heav'nly wisedome, and mirac'lous power, When opportun'ty did the same procure. Sicknes to man is prodrom of his death, From which no nat'rall man exemption hath: Even Lazarus, whom Jesus lov'd, is now Sick to the death, and to the grave must bow: Whil'st he is sick, his sister Mary sendeth A messenger to Christ, who first attendeth Him in his doctrine; and thereafter saith, Sir, he whom thou dost love now almost pay'th His debt to Nature by his death, for loe A burning Ague worketh his o'rethrow: I know thou lov'st him, and he loveth chee, Let then thy love to him extended be, For thou art love it selfe, and from thy love It is, that we doe live, or breath, or move. I know, saith Christ, he's sick, but not to death, Although this fit of Fever out his breath, Yet shall the glory of the Lord appeare In his return to this lifes hemispheare; And that the Sonne of God may glory have, Let him be sick, yea, fick unto the grave: A little after, to his friends he saith Let us goe hence, my staying here delay'th The work of God; for L••zarus our friend Lies fast asleep, and I doe fully mind T'awake him up again, for none but I Can rouze him from the graves deep Lethargy: If he doe sleep, say his Disciples, then He shall be well, for sleep doth soften pain: But here they doe mistake, they meant that sleep Which on our we••ried eyes doth softly creep;

But Christ did mean that sleep which in the grave Shall on each mortall man dominion have: No, no, saith Christ, to speak the truth, indeed Our brother's dead, and death doth on him feed, And I am glad, for your sakes, that I was Not there, when death o'return'd his short hour-glasse.

Alas, my Saviour, how canst thou be glad To see man under his afflictions sad! Dost thou delight in our distresses? no, Thou tak'st no pleasure in our griefes or woe; But as a loving father, who doth see His only sonne in that perplexity Where wounds and blowes on th'one side threaten death, And Triumph on the other promiseth Eternall honour, hath more joy to know The fame which from out those his wounds shall flow, Than he is sad to see his crimson blood Expatiat like a Dalmatian flood: So, from our light afflictions whil'st thou spies The trophies of thy glory to arise, Thou dost much more rejoyce, than thou canst grieve, To see us wrestle, and in end survive.

To Bethany he hasteth then, for there Mary and Martha had their chiefe repaire; And being come, Mary with speed doth run To greet th'approach of this Imperiall Sun, She sees him, and down at his feet doth fall, Master, saith she, hadst thou been here at all My brother had not dy'd: Mary, saith he, Thy brother shall rise up again, trust me: I know, saith she, that at the gen'rall doome He shall arise, and unto Judgment come:

Mary, saith he, hold but thy peace, and thou Shalt see Gods glory manifested now; Where have you laid him? come, come, let me see; They point the place: He, with a tear-drown'd eye Weeps out his soules sad sorrowes, but for what They neither know, nor can prognosticat: Is this the grave, saith he, where Laz'rus lyeth? Is this the Tomb which his dead corps implyeth? It is, say they: then roll away this stone Which holds him in his dusty mansion: No, no, saith Martha, now the time is past, This is the fourth day since we made it fast, Corruption e're now hath made him stench, His putrifaction no perfume can quench: What, Martha, saith he, have not I e're now Told thee, that if by faith thou shouldst subdue Thy soule, thou shouldst behold the pow'r of God Change Moses serpent to an usefull rod: They roll away the stone; to heav'n doth he Lift up his heart, his hand, and weeping eye, And with a loud voyce he doth thus encall His Fathers hearing; O great All of all, O dread Creator, and ô loving Father, From whom all creatures doe their essence gather, I thank thee that thou now hast heard me, nay I know that thou dost heare me every way; But that this people may believe, that thou Who in thy selfe art very truth, and true, Hast sent me thy right hands great strength to prove, And to the sonnes of men make known thy love, To thee I cry'd, and yet to thee doe cry, That thou wouldst their hard hearts once mollifie:

This said, he straight on Lazarus doth call, Come forth, come forth, stay no more there at all, I have the keyes of life and death, therefore To thee my quickning spirit I restore. No sooner hath he spoke these words, then he Who lay in death and graves captivitie Comes forth bound hand and foot with those poor ties Which laugh to scorn lifes superfluities: Now loose him, saith he, loose him, let him goe, For God is Lord of life and death also.

O what a world of miracles doe here In coacervat troops of pow'r appeare! He weeps and spends his teares, this tells he's Man; His word awakes the dead, God only can; He makes the bound to walk, and blind to see, All this t'expresse his sacred Deity; Yet will not loose the bonds, nor move the stone Himselfe, but gives to men direction To act that part, that by this Riddle he May teach the sonnes of men a mysterie, That he who without man did man first make Will not man, but by man, save or forsake,* 1.29 For though God works his work mirac'lously, Yet t'ordinary meanes he doth man ty.

And now in end, to shew how Christ of late The deafe and dumb did both re-consolate, How for the payment of a Tributes penny A Dolphine from the deep affords him money, How graciously th'Adulteresse is freed And both from sinne and shame stands purifi'd, How that poor man who from the wombe was blinde By clay and spittle doth his eye-sight finde,

How Jairus daughter and the widdows sonne Of Naine were reviv'd, how he alone Did feed five thousand with five barly loaves, How dry-foot on the Seas, proud waves he roaves: I dare not longer undertake to tell, Lest under such a weight my spirits faile: Let this suffice; those few which here be shown Make both his Godhead and his Manhead known.

The Proselyt's.

CANTO 5^o.

AS when a grave and sage Gymnosophist, Minding to put his Scholler to the list Of publick dispute, whence he hopes to gaine The honour of his long turmoyling paine, Prescribes him first some disputable Theam, To be contested in the Acadeam; Which being toss'd in Dialectique manner, By quircks and Sophismes of a subtill strainer, Gives correspondent hopes, or fears of what The publick The'ter can emarginat: So Nicodemus having oft times heard Of that rich glory, and that rich reward Which Christ had promis'd to all such as should By his directions be govern'd and rul'd,

Goes privily by night to him, to try Who was the stronger, Christ, or th' Pharisie? Master, saith he, I see thou art a man Come out from God, for certainly none can Or speake, or doe, as thou hast spoke and done, Without some divine inspiration. Is't so, saith Christ, brave Nicodemus? now I needs must tell thee what thou dost not know: Except a man be born again, 'tis sure He shall not enter in at Glories doore. Be born again! saith he, what's this I heare? VVhat man can make this paradox appeare? Can he that's old return to 's mothers wombe, And thence, being born again, a childe become? This Maxim seemeth very strange to me, It over-tops my weak capacity. VVhat, dost thou think this strange, doth Christ then say, That man must needs be born again? Nay, nay, Unlesse a man be born again by water And by the Spirits inward hid lavacre, He cannot enter in Gods kingdome, for What's born of flesh, is flesh; and what is more, What is born of the Spirit 's likewise Spirit, VVithout this birth no man can heav'n inherit; The winde blows where it lists, thou hear'st the sound Thereof, but canst not tell where't may be found, From whence it comes, or whither it doth goe, So hidden are his waves who makes it blow: Come, come, saith Necodemus, tell me where Thou canst be bold this Doctrine to averre? Thou speak'st to me of being born again, But of a new birth I conceive no strain,

Thou prat'st to me of heav'ns great Kingdome, but Of that Monarchick state I see no jot; Make me then see a reason and a cause Of what thou speak'st, else hold thy peace and pause.

VVell Nicodemus, now of truth I see That Nature is to Grace an Enemie, And what the nat'rall man thinks wisdome, that Doth God as folly excommunicat; And what the Lord counts wisdome, that doth Nature Abhorre, as voyd of her perfections feature: VVhat if I should be bold but to demand Of thee this question; what strong pow'r and hand Did frame thee in thy mothers womb, when yet In darknesse, as a Non-ens, thou didst sit? Whose fingers there condens'd thy bones? what power Did fill thy veines with Bozra's crimson shower? VVho made thy nerves and artyrs so to tie Thy bodies compact and societie? Who fram'd thy braines great Chaos, liver, spleen, Thy boyling choller, or thy moyst'ning phleagm? VVho made thy eyes so watchfull Centinels? VVho made thy nose Judge of so various smels? VVho made thy tongue to speak, or eares to hear? VVho made thy knees to bow, or back to bear? And last of all, whence hadst thou that poor breath Whose presence lends thee life, whose absence death, Whose influence warms thee with celestiall fire, And whose unmoved motion doth aspire In a poor minute to run round about Earths drossie globe, and Seas green glassie spout, Then in an eyes poor twinkle strives to know The treasures of the windes, hail, rain, and snow,

Thence falling down doth view that woefull deep, Wherein the Vessels of Gods wrath doe weep; Thence scaling all the heav'ns, doth scan the course Of all the Stars in their imperiall sourse; Thence soaring higher, flies above the Pole, And all the Stars where Charles great wain doth role, And in the highest heav'ns doth steale a glance Of great Jehova's glorious countenance, And with a ravish'd strain doth strive to see His one true Essence, and his persons three; That in the volume of his face she may The programs of his frowns and favour spy: All those within thy hollow bosome dwell, And yet by natures help thou canst not tell Nor when, nor where, nor how this bulk was made, Begun, advanc'd, inlarg'd, or finished: Why dost thou then require that nature should Investigate or labour to unfold The secret footsteps and that hidden way Wherein th' Almighty doth his pow'r display? Dost thou not know that in thee two men dwell, The spirit and the flesh, whose tides doe swell So boistrously each one against the other, That cruell Cain when he had kill'd his brother Was never stuff'd with more vindictive spleen, Then doe these two betwixt them entertain; Water hath no more force to drown the fire, Fire to drink water doth no more aspire, Ayre in earths caverns hath not such a roar, Earth doth no more ayres levity abhorre, Heat against cold, and moysture against drougth Doth not so largly ope their yawning mouth,

The light with darknes keeps no better coyle, Death striving against life hath no such toyle As have these two, whil'st their unstay'd desire To ruine one another doth aspire; Hence doth arise so fierce a conflict, that Unlesse the one the other subjugat, With laboring Rebecca, in her push, Man may exclaime, If so, why am I thus? For loe, the good man would, he cannot doe; And th' ill he would not, that he's thrust unto: Yet whosoever to the flesh shall give Obedience, and in her Statutes live, Shall from the flesh reape nothing but corruption, And drink the bitter dregs of her destruction; But he who by the spirit is made free From carnall lusts and their captivitie, Shall by th' obedience of the Sp'rit have peace When all the turmoiles of the flesh shall cease: But ay me! now I see this world is gone, And drown'd ith' deep of induration; For though the light hath plentifully shin'd In all her corners, yet men have repin'd Against the light, and made their deeds so evill, That they are slaves to Belial and the Devill. Thus hath he gravell'd Nicodemus sp'rit, And of a Pharisee made a Proselyte: For nature being convinc'd must hold her peace, And humane reason unto God give place. Hence forth from Judah he doth take his way, And in Samaria purposeth to stay: Faint in his journey by the extream heat, Which Earth to Titan did reveberat,

He comes to Sichars well, but all in vain, One drop of water he can not obtain: Here down he sits, straight from Samaria come A woman to draw water for her home, Woman saith he, I thirst extreamly, pray Lend me some water, this my thirst t' alay, The jorney's long, and eke the season hot, Let me then drink some water from thy pot? Some water, saith she, that is strange ô man, That thou a Jew, I a Samaritan, Canst seek refreshment or a drink from me, Those keep no commerce nor societie: Woman saith he, ô that thou couldst but know That gift of God, and who it is that now Doth beg of thee some water for his thirst, Surely thou shouldst have been my begger first, And I to thy petition, would have given A cup of better water brought from Heaven; For who so drinks this water, thirsts again, But who tastes my unemptied Ocean Shall never thirst; for from th' Eternal's throne It spring'th, and tak'th eternall motion: Master, saith she, you talk to me of water Whose bubling sourse some better streams doth scatter; But to my taste I never yet could see A welspring of more pretious dignitie; Our Father Jacob dig'd this well of old, He drunk of it, his children als' were bold To fet it to their Cattels use, art thou Greater then they? I pray thee let me know, That when I thirst hereafter, I may drink And draw the waters of that better brink:

Goe, saith he then, and make thy husband come, That when thou drink'st he also may have some: I have no husband, saith she. Now I heare Thee speak the truth; for it is more then clear That husbands five thou hast already had, And he whom now thou hast, thou hast not wed; Thus hast thou sinn'd, and in thy sinne dost lye, Drunk with the dregs of sinnes security; Yet though sinnes seed time seem a delicate, Her harvest and her gleaning's desolate: Master, saith she, a Prophet now thou art, For thou display'st the secrets of my heart, Messiah when he comes can doe no more, But tell us all things; this thou dost before: I am the man, saith he, expect no other The only sonne of God, by flesh thy brother; Yea, amongst many brethren the first borne And of great David's house th' exalted horne.

Shee hears those words, and leaves her water pot Behinde her, and to poore Samaria's lot She hies her self with all the speed she can, And cals them from their trades, each man by man: Come, come saith she, now blessed be the Lord He hath made true the tenure of his word, Which promiseth, that in the end of time Messiah's blood should expiat our crime; Come, I have found him; and whats strange behold, What I have done in all my life, h' hath told, Yea, he hath fann'd the secrets of my heart, And made my soule, by griefe, for sinne to smart, I never heard so grave and learn'd a Preacher, So strickt a schoole-man, and so wise a Teacher.

Ne're doth the Phaenix, when she first doth flie From out her Urn, with self-bred infancie, With richer troops attempt her first-wing'd march Along the conclave of th'ethereall Arch, Than now my Saviour from Samaria ••••th T'attend his doctrine, and enrich their faith; He seeth them hunger, and he opes his mouth To feed them with those clusters of his truth: Your fathers, saith he, worship'd in this mountain, Here did they dig sweet water from this fountain, But now the time drawes neere, and is at hand, When neither here, nor in Judaea's land God shall be serv'd alone; through all the world The chariot of his glory shall be hurl'd: God is a Spirit, all that doe him feare In sp'rit and truth unto him must draw neare; You worship what you know not, ô but we Know whom we worship in sinceritie, And though salvation's to the Jewes first shown, Yet shall the Gentiles for Gods sonnes be known. O now, say they unto the woman, we Believe him not for what you testifie, But having heard him with our eares our selfe, On him we build our soules eternall health, For now we see he is that Christ should come To ransome Israel with a pretious summe.

Thus turning to Judaea's coasts again Great multitudes doe follow him amain, For they by him mirac'lously were fed VVhen in the desert they were hungered: But whil'st he doth their hidden thoughts espy, With a loud voyce he boldly thus doth say;

Alas! I now perceive it for a truth, This people doe draw neer me with their mouth, Whil'st as their hearts are farre from me, for loe Not for my Doctrine sake they doe me know, But for the barlie loaves they did partake, When I did feed them, for my mercy sake: But travell not I pray you, for that meat Which is as quickly gone, as it is eate; But labour for that bread, which lasts for ever, Which I the sonne of man to you deliver: Your Fathers in the deserts did eate Manna, And prais'd the giver with a loud Hosanna, Yet did they perish, dye, and eke consume In their stifnecked murmuring A mertume; But he who eats the bread that I shall give him, Shall never perish; for it shall revive him: I am the bread of life, which came from heaven, My father unto you this bread hath given; That by his bread of life, which is supernall, He may your soules maintain to life Eternall: As many then as come to me shall neither Have thirst nor hunger, for my glorious Father Sent me from heav'n, not my own will to doe, But mans hard heart unto his yoak to bow; That so man may eschew his burning wrath, And scape the sorrows of the second death: No man hath seen the Father, but the Sonne Who in the Fathers bosome dwels alone, He doth reveale him unto whom he pleaseth, Whose crosse he lightneth, and whose soule he easeth: No man ascendeth unto heav'n but he Who came from heav'n, and doth in Majestie,

(Though base on earth) yet when he thinketh sit, Doth on his Fathers right hands glory sit; And at his second comming saves his sheep From sinking in that never fathom'd deep, Whereas the sulpher of th'Eternalls breath Layes hold upon the vessels of his wrath, And makes the faithfull and the righteous all Be fill'd with glories endlesse festivall.

The Metamorphose.

CANTO 6^o.

FOre-chosen Jacob, Isaac's second Swaine, Jah-struggling champion and victorious man, Thou royall she apheard, and tresprudent Siere, Whom Palestina's Princes did admire, Vouchsafe me but t' approach thy dying throne, And charge thee with this Gordian knot alone, And like Apollo thou thy front shalt see Deckt with a garland from the Lawrell tree.

Whence come th' Enthusiasm, and that sacred sury, Which made thee all thy carnall senses bury In Lethe's lap, and with religious rage Divide Chams tents to Israels heritage. VVhence hadst thou wisdome and sweet inspiration To precognose, and with true divination

Foretell that Juda's tribe should beare the sway Till Shilo should ecclipse his Majesty? How madest thou Joseph, like a fruitfull Vine, That doth her arms about her Bridegroom twine, Drunk with the grapes of Ephraims royall cup, Which weak Manasseh's hands could not beare up? But above all, I stand amaz'd to see Lewd Levi's scatt'rings dare t' approach so nigh To Joves Ariell, offring there upon For sinne and sinners expiation! Is Dinah dead, or Sechem's blood gone dry, That thou dost thus forget his villany, And without smarting for his foule offence Exalt him to the high-Priests eminence? 'Tis strange that divine Justice should permit, Him who ith' chaire of sinners so hath sit, Without corrections rod possesse the throne, And sing the carrols of exemption! O now I see, thy tongue was not thy own! A higher power hath it rul'd and thrown, Even He, great He, whose wayes we cannot spy, Because his will's the square he worketh by; Who where he will have mercy, there he pardons, And where he will with draw his grace, he hardens: From his good pleasure then, and no where else, It is, that Levi's tribe the rest excels, And on his Ephod, whiter then the snow, Hath tyed his breast plate, where in sumptuous show Stands Ʋrim and great Thummims true direction For light of knowledge, and for lifes perfection: So then from loyns of that unhallowed stem Which Jacob thrust from Israels diadem,

The Lord hath chosen a successive race Of royall Priesthood, who before his face, Shall in that course which David did prescribe, Burn incense and their sacrifice contrive, With never alter'd, though alternat order, Till Melchizedeck come and crush their border: All those, like Comets when they first appeare In our sublunar regions hemispheare, Did draw mens wandring eyes and wondring hearts, To scan their sequels, whether smiles or smarts; But all in vaine, nature can ne'er unty The clasped books of heav'ns great mystery; For till the Word was Flesh, great Judah's throne Ne'er knew her perfect exaltation; And Aarons rod did ne'er her top bow down With reverence to Melchizedecks Crown: But when thou cam'st, those figures, types, and tropes Had reall Essence, for unreall hopes; For where the Sun doth shine in lights aray, All clouds evanish, night gives place to day: Since then thou art true light, and since with thee Darknesse dare plead for no societie, O let me but be bold this once to follow Thee to thy Tabor, that my sp'rit being shallow, May by the lustre of thy glories shine Taste of that light that never shall decline.

But aye me! whil'st I see the hill so steep, The gulfe of my poore misery so deep, The flesh so fraile, the sp'rit so soone o'retak'n, The flax so quench'd, the bruised reed so shak'n, The load of sinne so great, my faith so faint, So strickt the forfeit, of the Covenant,

I cannot choose but feare, lest by the way My hasting doe defraud me of my pray, Unlesse thou help who help'd the faithfull thiefe, For I believe, Lord help my unbeliefe: Come then dread Saviour, let me search the time Wherein thou didst to Tabors fastege clime; Thy Scriv'ners differ, many therefore doubt Thy journies Epoche how they shall finde out; One sayes that it was fully six daies after That thou didst make their soules o'reflow with laugh∣ter, By promising that some who stood thee by Should not see death, nor taste mortality Till they, being witnesse of thy raptures story, Should see the Sonne of man come in his glory; Another saith, the dayes were almost eight After that promise, that thou scal'dst this height; Thus doe some weake mindes stumble, whilst they spy Amidst thy truth, so great variety: But foolish we, in vanity still wallow, We straine a Gnat, yet doe a Camel swallow; We grope at noone day, and make known our blot, Whil'st in a rush we seek a Gordian knot, For where the eight day's neere and six are spent, By true arithmetick the seventh is meant; Upon this day when heav'ns and earth were made, And all their frame and fabrick finished, Th'Eternall seeing all his creatures good, Proclam'd the seventh dayes rest, and so it stood; Upon this day, from Mysraims darkned Cell God did redeem his first born Israel; Upon this day, from Baalz phons shoare To Migdoll, he his people dry-foot bore;

Upon this day, from Syna's thundering jaw, He gave the Sanctions of his sacred Law; Upon this day, in Cana's wedding shrine He turned fountaine water unto wine; And as upon this day he next shall come To Judge the world, and render life to some, So on this day he takes delight to goe To Tabors top, that there he might forth show A glance of that great glory which we shall One day possesse in his great marriage hall; For, when six ages of the world are run, The seventh shall finish our Redemption.

Thus having found the time, we next must view The place wherein Christ Jesus doth allow To cloath himselfe with glory, for a while, And cover Jacobs hands with Esau's guile: The place is Tabors mountain top, whereon He manifests his glories vision; For till we climbe above earths drossie ball, We are not fit t' enjoy heav'ns Festivall: On top of Moriahs mountain Abram rear'd An altar to that God he lov'd and fear'd; On Carmels top Eliah, pray'th for fire And heav'ns obtemper his devout desire; On Horebs top, and in that hollow cave, Whil'st he from Jesabel his life doth save, Earth trembleth, windes doe roare, and flaming coals Of fire, for his protection raves and roles; On Pisgahs top, meek Moses lyeth down, And sleepeth in his first corruption; On Nebo's top did Aaron sweetly lay His bones, whil'st as his soule to heav'n did stray;

So on mount Tabor will my blessed Saviour First pray, and then transforme his true behaviour, That by him we may learn, when we draw neer To God in aspirituall Hemispheare, To cast distractions, worldly cares and pains Behind our backs, and make our chiefest strains To rest on high; and whilst we talk with God, T' obnubilate our heads within his cloud, Leaving our Asses on the plain below, Whil'st we to heaven our sighs and sobs upthrow,

The circumstance of time and place descry'd, Wherein the Sonne of Man was clarifi'd, 'Tis fit we look on his attendants next, That so our swarving faith may once grow fixt; Those were three great ones, Peter, James, and John, Those sonnes of thunder, this a pretious stone; If any shall enquire, why to those three My Master manifests his Majestie? I answer, first, that Scripture doth command That every Truth accomplished shall stand, By Declaration of some two or three, And from their mouth receive stability: Next unto this, to them he shew'th indeed, His future suff'rings should no way proceed From lack of power to confound his foes, But from his love to mankinde, hence he throws A way his robe of weaknesse, and grows rich In glories vesture, whose embroider'd stitch Bezaleel, for all his skill and art, Ne'er paralell'd in whole, or yet in part: And finally, to those three first is shown His glory; for they be the first must own

His fellow sufferings: least then orflings they Should seare his Crosse, and so his cause betray, He gives them here a glance of that reward Which for their after sufferings was prepar'd; Thus on Mount Tabors top and lofty stage, Those three receive the greatest priviledge That ever mortals in the flesh did see, Being chain'd in bonds of base mortalitie; But ô! no sooner have they climb'd up there, When loe, their Master kneeling in his prayer, They fall asleep, so weake is this our flesh, That what the sp'rit desires, it doth empoish; Yet seldome doth the flesh in quiet sleep, But some distemper to the soule doth creep; Whil'st Adam slept, his rib was stoln away; And sleep did Noahs nakednesse display; Whil'st Sampson slept, his Nazarisme's gone; The Church asleep, disknow'th her holy one; In Jaels tent while Sisara sleeps, he's kill'd; Jonah from sleep must wake ere th' sea be still'd; Yea, if the master of the house doe snort, The thiefe digs thorow, and the goods transport; 'Tis good therefore that men should watch and pray, That Christ may be their light, both night and day: From sleep then can those three no sooner wake, When of their Master they doe notice take, And finde his count nance clarifi'd as farre: Beyond his wonted feature, as that starre Which gildes our midday, doth exceed that lamp That cuts her capers in our midnight Camp; And all his body deck'd with brighter beams Then Cynthia, when she's drunk with Neptunes streams:

The new faln snow was never halfe so white, The Fullers soape makes nothing so perfect; Jobs snowy water, Davids hyssop drops, VVhen from th' Alembicks cloud it softly hops, Could never make a cloth so fresh and new, As are his vestures in Celestiall hew; Yea, with him Moses and Eliah walk In glory, and comfort him with their talke Concerning those dread sufferings which he was T' endure, by Pilate and by Caiaphas: Ne'er could the heav'ns afford two fitter guests, To talk with him of fastings or of feasts, Then were those two; for Moses gave the Law, And with Eliahs heav'n commanding aw The following Prophets made the world to try The power of th' Eternals verity; Yet unto Christ both Law and Prophets tend, From him they had beginning, he's their end: Now, to the world I see he did not come T'undoe the Law, or Prophets, but to summe Them both together, that to both he might Be guide by day, and loadstarre in the night: VVherefore then should we in our deepest joyes, Forget our Crosse, or in our crossing toyes Forget our glory, since our Saviour Amid'st his richest glory can endure To heare of crosses, sorrows, stripes and wrongs, In stead of trophies, triumphs, shows, and songs; 'Tis fitting then that in our peace we think Upon that wormwood cup we once must drink, For humane mindes doe best digest their gall, VVhen expectation cooks their Madrigall.

Peter awake, beholds this glorious Trine, And like a man awak'd from out his wine, Cries to his master, 'tis good we be here, O that I could three tabernacles reare, The first for thee, my Shilo and Messiah, Then one for Moses, then one for Eliah; So should we spend our time in rest and peace, Feeding upon the glory of thy face, And being satiat with thy glories store, Return to our sublunar toyls no more: Now Peter tell me, art thou truly 'wake, Or sleep'st thou still, that thus thou dost mistake? Shall Tabor be thy dwelling place for ay? Or shall my Saviour from his suffrings stay? Shall Moses and Eliah still remain On Tabors top, and not return again To that Celestiall joy from whence they came? Fie on those stag'ring wishes, fie for shame, 'Tis shame that men should give their fancies scope, But greater shame to sleep their eyes be'ng ope; Or therefore speak the truth, or sleep thou still, A drousie braine doth judgements project spill; And yet I pardon thy ecstatique mood, What thou didst speak, thou no wayes understood. Now scarce hath Peter from a zeale bred fire Evaporat those accents of desire, When loe, from heaven a bright irradiat cloud O'reshades the place whereas my Saviour stood, And from on high did sound this loud, loud voyce, Be glad ô heav'ns, and ô thou Earth rejoyce, For here's my first born sonne, my best beloved Heare him, for in him onely, y'are approved:

At this dread sight, and at this roaring call, The three Disciples to the earth down fall; And like a man who with the Palsie's taken, Their sp'rits are troubled, and their senses shaken: But he who's rich in mercy, drawing neer, First touches them, and so disbands their fear; Then bids them rise, they by's word made strong, Doe hope their former comforts to prolong: But ah, in vaine! Jesus stands there alone, His Glory, Moses, and Eliah's gone.

O what a cloud of witnesse standing here, Our humane frailty to the world mak'th clear Those Saints of late did sleep, then were o're joy'd Then with a quiv'ring feare were overcloy'd: Now recomforted, but God know'th how long: 'Tis strange to see what a tumultuous throng Of changes and vicissitudes lay'th hold On him who lives and moves upon the mold! For nothing's stable here beneath the sun, Perfection's cloyed with imperfection, Strength is contempered with humane weaknes, Wisdome with follie, health with smarting sicknes: But when we shall arise to our better rest, And in our Masters glory shall be plac'd, Then shall our imperfections flye away, And true perfection shall recleare our day, For then the glory of our God shall hide The spots and wrinkles of his virgin-bride, And what in her is now with weaknes mix'd Shall then in never fading strength be fix'd; For being chang'd unto his image, we Shall sigh no more because of miserie,

But being exalted to our all in all, Our joyes shall flourish still, and never fall.

The Hosanna.

CANTO 7^o.

NE'er did my Saviour keep such pompe and state, Ne'er was his traine so populous and great, Ne'er did he take such Majesty upon him, Ne'er was so many eyes at once fix'd on him, As now, while as the day draw'th neer wherein His night of death should our lifes day begin.

Till now he path'd his journeys all on foot, And measur'd Judahs cirruits all about Without or noise, or traine, or Prince-like stage To attend him in a royall equipage; But now being ready his pure blood to spend, And bring our soules Redemption to an end, He cloaths himselfe with Majesty indeed, As best befitted royall Davids seed: From Bethphage therefore he two servants sends To Syons suburbs, and thus saith, There stands An Asse, and by her side her Colt unty de, Goe bring them hither, for I now must ride; If any aske of you, why doe you so? Say, I have need; and they shall let you goe:

His two disciples goe, and as he told So finde they all things, therefore they make bold, And bring the Asse unto him with all haste, So forth he go'th to keep the Passeov'rs feast: The asse and colt whereon he rides, his store Of pomp and acclamations were before Prognosticat by Zachary, and all According to the Scriptures verdict fall; The Colt whereon he rides, did ne'er till now Her tender back to any burthen bow, Yet to his burthen now she stoopeth down As one accustom'd to subjection; The best apparell which the people wore Are made his foot-cloths; Some doe run before, Some follow after; bowes are pluck'd from trees, Applauding clangor to the heav'n up-flies, And noble Palm-tree sprigs are thrown i'th way, That all succeeding times may blesse that day; Hosannah to the Highest, is their word, And bless'd be he that commeth from the Lord: And yet in all this masque and royall guise There's nothing but a croud of mysteries; For, by the Asse the Jewes are understood, And by the Colt the Gentiles: for, the food Of sp'rituall bread and water first must flow From Judah's fountaine, and thereafter goe Unto the way of all the Gentiles, that God may, in both, be truly celebrate; The Jewes indeed, like to this Asse, ev'n now Their necks to Moses legall yoak did bow, The Gentiles, like the Colt, have not as yet Submitted their proud necks t'obtemper it,* 1.30

But having snuff'd the winde up at their pleasure,* 1.31 Now in their month are catch'd, toth' Gospels treasure: The garments with the which th'Apostles loath'd Those beasts, declare their doctrine, which betroth'd* 1.32 Both Jew and Gentile to espouse that Lamb Who into th' world for their re-union came:* 1.33 The garments which the people throw i'th' way, That after-love unto the Truth display, Whereby th'Apostles and the Martyrs shall Seale with their blood Truths testimoniall: The Palm-tree sprigs which from their stems are cut And cast into the way, doe point us out The Fathers faith and constant hope, who by The storms of worldly torments though they dye, Yet cannot be cut from that root and stem From which they hope an eternall di'dem: Hosanna to the Sonne of David; shew'th That he is true man: and what more he ow'th To heaven, by's heav'nly generation, Is shut up in [the highest] acclamation. O thou the fairest 'mongst the sonnes of men In majesty and triumph ride thou then, Because that truth and righteousnes thou brings, And thy right hand shall teach terrible things.

In this so rich a pomp, and pompous store Unto Jerus'lem rides my Saviour: Jerus'lem was of old the royall seat Of Kings, Priests, Prophets, dul'inaugurat; Kings there did raigne, for there was Davids throne; Priest there did offer their oblation; A midst their streers, and on their sacred Temple The Prophets fix'd their oracles so ample:

Hither doth now the great Messiah come, King, Priest, and Prophet, that to all, and some He might make known the path of life, and be King, Priest, and Prophet to eternity: As King he rides along their streets, and there The clangors of Hosanna pierce the aire; As Priest unto the Temple straight he goes, And thence the Rancour table he orethrowes; And as a Prophet there he doth foretell The finall fall and foyl of Israel.

Oft hath he view'd Jerusalem ere now With small regard, or aspect of her crew; But now the City's mov'd, both more and lesse, And earnestly doe cry, who's this? who's this? As when the Sages, at the first, brought newes That there was born a Monarch to the Jewes, Herod, and all the town were in commotion, To heare from strangers mouths so strange a notion, So now, while as they see him cast aside The rags of basenes, and in pomp to ride, In fear, and in commotions path they range, And what before seem'd nought, doth now seem strange: Such be our soules in their still changing state, While as we sit secure and desolate, Bound in the fetters of iniquity, We dream no change nor new oeconomy; But when with our corruptions Grace doth ruffle, And our impostors she to door doth shuffle, Straight all the anvels of our trembling heart Doe from their rest retire, and finde it smart: What mean'th this strangenesse, Suleme tell menow, With bayes hath he not crown'd thy wrinkled brow?

Hath he not wedded thee for his ture Bride, And left the widow-world to weep? beside, Hath he not given thee thy wedding token? Hath he not earl' and late in thy street spoken? Hath he not, as the hen, sought t'over-shade Thy chicks under his wings? hath be not fed Thy starving troops, and thy diseases healed, And unto thee his Fathers will revealed? Why dost thou then disknow him? O, look on him, And fixe thy soules affections still upon him; Ask Moses what he is, and he shall say The womans seed, who should the Serpent slay: Ask Abra'm, he shall say he is the Pram Who made his Isaac scape the knife and flame: Ask Jacob, he will tell you that 'tis be Who Shilo-like gives Judah liberties Ask David, and he truly shall declare He is his Grand-childe, and his righteous heire: Ask Esay, and his Prophecy shall tell He's very God and man, Immanuel: Ask Jeremie, he calls him Righteous branch: Ask Daniel, he tells you he did quench The fiery fomace, and's the stone that's cut From out the mount without mans hand or foot, And boldly daunteth all the worlds Empire, And at his next return shall burn 't with fire: Ask John the Baptist, he shall tell you that He is the Lamb of God, immaculat: Ask God himselfe; he cryes, This is my Sonne: Ask of the Devill, he harpes the self-same tune: Ask of the windes, and seas, and rotten grave, The sun, the moon, and all the world can have,

And they shall all confesse him to be God, Who in our flesh doth make his true abode. Amidst this cloud of witnesse, how canst thou Great Salem, so disknow thy Bridegroom now? Thy eyes are blinde, thy eares are deaf, thy heart Is hard as flint, lest he should thee convert: But since all things acknowledge him as God, I see not how thou canst escape his rod, Who in so cleer a night dost undervalue The Sonne of God, and count'st his Councels shallow.

In this his pomp and royall acclamation He at the Temple makes his journies station: And surely now his Temple hath most need Of any thing, to be first purifi'd; Her gold was turn'd to drosse, her watchmen were Become dumb dogs, and meerly secular, Her builders were destroyers, and her chiefe Governors lov'd to play the wolse and thiefe, Her Nazarites are black as any coale, Her high-Priests zeale unto the world is stole, And this her hid impoyson'd sourse and spring To all the Kingdome doth corruption bring; For as the brains, the liver, and the heart Being wholsome kept, and sound in every part, The body in true life and vigour standeth, And every joynt it's sev'rall use commandeth; But those being once exulcerat, then all The body by Tabasick tumours fall: So, while Gods house her purity doth keep, Religion makes the land in peace to sleep; But if the Altars once become impure, The Common-wealth dy'th of an Imposture:

Here therefore doth my Saviour first dispose His fathers house in order, and disclose The hidden fraud and sacrilegious straine That Priest and People there did entertain.

Here did the bankrup and the money-cheater, Erect their reck'nings, and their lew'd Theater; Here did the shepheard bring his sheep to sell, Here made the drover all his oxen dwell; Here did the pigeons, there the turtles lye, And so the Temples turn'd t'a butchery; And what's the worst of ills, all this is done Under the pretext of Religion: Ah me! how faire is the pretext, but foule The practises of this Levitique Schoole? When Simoon and Levi meant to slay The Sechemites, Religion op'd their way; When Saul saves Agag and his flocks alive, Religion did to's sinne a cloake contrive; When Herod meant our Saviours blood to spill, His words spoke Worship, but his heart said Kill: Those be the wayes of Man, but ah, 'tis shame That when man sinneth God should bear the blame: A three fold whip therefore my Saviour makes, And whips their beasts from their empayling stakes, Their doves and pigeons he let loose to fl••e, The Colybists proud banque ov'r turneth he; And to the rod he doth this word conjoyn, Take those things hence, and some where else purloyn, For it is writen, This my fathers house Should serve for prayer, not for Merchants use: But where your fathers did my father feare As in a den of thieves, you rob and teare.

But tell me, Saviour, wherefore flame thine eyes, Whence doth this spleen and agony arise, How is the Lambe now chang'd into a Lyon, And who hath chang'd to Sinay our calm Syon? O pardon me me my God, those lashing stroaks, Those whips, those blows, those soul-subduing yoaks Which those poore sacrilegious Ruffians beare, Doe make it as a lanthorn shine most cleare, That as in Justice thou dost mercy show, So in thy mercy thou dost Justice know, For both in thee doe from Etern'ty dwell, They neither eb too much, nor too much swell; But by a due contemp'rature they shin'd, Mercy with Judgement, wrath with love combin'd.

Ne'er did a Planet of so milde aspect Infuse so strange an influence and effect On a sublunar or an earthly theam, As doth this Reformations rapid stream Worke upon some who did behold it: for No sooner hath my blessed Saviour Joyn'd to the rod and whip of his correction The salutary motto of instruction, Then loe, his twelve Disciples straight are led To rouze their memyr's from oblivions shade, And call to minde, what David doth record, Thy houses zeale hath eate me up ô Lord, And by beholding of that fact and place They know their Master for the Prince of peace; But on the hardned heart of th' abject Jew, Whose sides and backs were with his blows yet ble••, It worketh nothing but a deep disdaine, Rancor, revenge, and all that cursed traine

Of furies, which Erynnis in her Cell Can beg or borrow from the deep of hell.

Master, say they, what signe dost thou now show That thou dost those things? we would gladly know By what authority, or soveraign might Thou bringst thy Reformation to this height?

A signe? saith he; ô froward generation! O serpent-issue of a sinfull Nation! You seek a signe, as if you would believe, But this I tell you, you no thing shall have Save that of Jonah; for as three dayes he VVas swallow'd by a whale i'th' deep o'th' Sea, So shall the sonne of man for mans trespasse Lye buried in the Earth for three dayes space; Destroy therefore this Temple, and behold Within three dayes I will the same re-build, And rear it up again, as free from sinne So free from all corruptions withering. Thus having spoke, his eyes which did of late Flash forth the flames of fury and of state, Drown'd now in brinish teares, doe still encall His sorrowing soule to sigh this madrigall: Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills The Prophets, and dost make their bloody rills Distain thy ground, and grind'st their fainting face Who all the day long preach to thee thy Peace, Would God thou couldst acknowledge in thy day The things that point thy peace, or thy decay! So desolation should not lift her hand Against this City, nor against this Land: But ah! those things are hidden from thine eyes, And thou art drunk, yea, drown'd in miseries;

For God who alwaies doth thy sinnes abhorre, Takes no delight to chastise ever more, And alwayes chide with man; yet one sound blow Of Justice shall repay what he doth ow To mens forgot prevarication, So righteous is his rod and indignation, That when mens Cup of sinne doth over-top, He fills his Cup of wrath, and man drinks't up.

Here ends ASTRAEA, OR The second week.

Gloria Patri & Filio.

MELPOMENE.

On this last Scean we read a Tragick story: How Judas did betray the Lord of Glory, How in Gethseman's garden Christ swet blood, How he was taken bya multitude, How he was judged and condemn'd to die, How he was rack'd and nail'd t'a cursed tree, How from the grave he riseth up again, And scales the heav'ns, Melpom'ne maketh plain.

The Conspiracy.

CANTO 1^o.

WHEN Haniball at Canna did ov'rcome Terentiu•• Varro Generall of Rome; When Caesar in Pharselia did defeit Great Pompey, fautor of the Marian state, No bigger wax'd their fame and praise abroad, Nor did at home their mut'nous envies load: For seldome doth faire Rachel gaine the day, But squint-ey'd Leah steal'th the night away:

So whil'st Christ Jesos in Judaea doth Display his divine and his humane truth, By stilling of the Oceans untam'd stage, By curbing of the Hyperborean rage, By raising of the dead from deaths cold hands, By losing men and women from hells bands, By purging of his Fathers glorious Temple, Whose Reformation makes his fame more ample: But straight as did his fame mount to a top, Right so did envy strive to break it up: The Pharisees, the Scribes, and Priests therefore Conveen a Councell, wherein they deplore The sad succeeding ills which might ensue, If they his speedy fame should not subdue: Sathan hath once already sought t'assaile, The crazie bulwarks, and the batter'd wall Of humane nature, wherein God doth show The great affection he to man doth ow; Here once againe, with a redoubled wrong, He makes his front more fierce, redoubts more strong, And, as a recrue, bring'th with him a main Battalion of Church-men for his traine; For what one cannot doe, that many may, And sad experience teacheth this alway: They come together then, unto one place, Whom love did never joyn i'th' bond of peace; For they the wayes of peace have never known, They sought not what was Gods but what's their own: Who can but wonder at this Convocation, And foule discording concords combination? Though Cain did his brother Abel kill, Although 'gainst Isaac rise an Ishmael,

Though Esau doe his brother Jacob hate, Though Saul envy the happy Davids state, Though Simeon and Levi Joseph knit, And thrust him in a deep and hopelesse pit, Though cruell Jesabel, proud Achabs wife, For Naboth's viney ard doe take Naboth's life, It is not strange for since th' Eternall did The womans seed from Sathans seed divide, There hath been, is, and ever shall remaine A horrid gulfe of hatred them between, And till th' eternall Conqu'rour gain the field Their conflicts cannot e're be reconcil'd: Whil'st then we see the worlds great Monarchs all, Kingdomes, Empires, Republicks great and small Combine themseves against the Lords anoynted, As though Earth's axle-tree were all disjoynted; Yet let no man who's born a sonne of thunder, Be brought to gaze it with the eyes of wonder, For though the counsels of Achitophel, The threats of Saul, and Achabs Josabel, The fi'ry fornace, and the Lyons den, Doe rage and roare against the sonnes of men, Yet shall the sonnes of God, by his great might, Shine as the Sunne in his Meridian light; Their flesh may perish by the fire and sword, But God preserves their soules alive by is word.

What shall we doe, say they, if this man live? The world runs after him, he will deprive Us of our honour, and the Romane Nation Shall quickly drive us from this habitation; We have nor eyes to see, nor ears to heare, Nor hearts to understand what danger's neare,

Saith Caiaphas, for 'tis more fitting fane That one should perish, then the jaws of was Should swallow upon Nation round about, Disturbe our altars, and our liver put out: This spoke he, not so much of his own wit, As he, who in the heav'n of heav'ns doth sit, Did by this High Priests mouth his truth foretell, And how he meant to save his Israel.

O God! how wond'rous strange and different be The different actors of this Tragedie? For in this plot I doe perceive still four Opposed aspects, on my Saviour; Th' Almighty in it hath his right hand first, Sathan his left hand next and that's accurs'd; The great Sauhedrim for the third room plead, And Judas last, for gain, will lose his head. God had decreed from all Eternitie, To pay the ransome of our miserie In his sonnes blood; yet sure they needs must fin, Whose fingers had the deepest touch therein; For whil'st they, in a hid intent doe minde The sonne of God in darknes bonds to binde, Th' Almighty doth their rapid rage ov's throw, And tyes themselves unto Eternall woe: For as the moystning hope of cloud bred raine Here drown'th a field, there doth refresh the grain; Or as the warming blinks of Furan's ray Makes this floure flourish, that to shrink away; So what the world and Sathan mindes to harme, Gods providence doth so 〈◊〉〈◊〉 their charme, That what they for our prejudice intend, His wisdome turneth to a bless•••• ••••••

O what a world of wonders doe concurre While as th' Almighties hand o'rerules the sturre Of humane actions for his unseen singers Doe curb the station of their strongest hingers: Sometimes he suffers sinne, and lends her being, Then takes she Ic'rus wings, and soars a fleeing; Sometimes he stops her course, and makes her stay, And then for her intent she findes no way; Sometime he sers about her such a border, That she cannot transgresse her lim'ted order; Sometime he sits at helm, and, set at stern, Doth her unequall motions so govern, That in her proudest strains, let her doe what She will, he still doth stand immaculat, Leaving foul sinne to Sathans foul direction, Whil'st he lends onely nerves unto the action. As when the sun hath on a dunghill shin'd Where many hid corruptions lay combin'd, The stench proceeds not from the Suns pure ray, But from the hid corruption therein lay: So, whil'st by sinne man doth transgresse Gods lawes, God, of the sinne, must not be call'd the cause; But man, abusing his licentiat will By concupiscence, doth prove guiley still: O God, how hid's thy way? who can beguile Thy frown of justice, or thy meicies smile? For man, amidst them both, is bound and free, Enfranchiled, and in captivitie; His will is free, for it is no wayes ti'd, Yet notwithstanding, all his works beside Are captivat; for, man can doe no more Then thy good pleasure pre-〈…〉〈…〉 before.

Thus be those hellish hounds with envy big 'Gainst Davids righteous heire, and Jesse's sprig; And that they may the better act their parts, They charge their Serjeants, with diffembling hearts, To goe and take him where soere they could, And for their paines doe promise heaps of gold: Me thinks I see that foul malignant spirit Who doth eternall darknesse pit inherit, Sitting at top of this lewd Councell-table, Breath this advice to his unhallow'd rabble; My friends, saith he, you descant on a theam Whereon depends or ignominious shame, Or never fading honour; strive therefore T'acquit your selves as men, for I bhorre That, in such exployts, those which follow me Should faint for feare, or swerve for infamie; Dally no more with strangers for this fact, A home-bred traitor's fittest for this act, For when a stranger stands afarre for fear, A bold Dome stique dar'th, and draweth near; 'Tis long since I did know the wayes of man, 'Tis long since I his greatest strength did scan, Yet did I never finde so safe a way As by a friend upon a friend to pray: With Adam when at first I meant to wrestle, I caught the Linot in his breast did nestle, And by that rib which from his side was taken I knock'd his pate, since then 'tis alwayes shaken: Whil'st Sampson, as a Na••'rite, kept his haire, Nor Gath nor Ekron could with him compare; But when in Gaza Dalilah pinn'd his harp, He found that Sorecks Scissers were 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sharp:

When no man could prevaile for Ahais fall At Ramoth Gilead, then did I enstall A lying spirit in Zedekiah's mouth, He play'd the Prophet, Achab felt the truth: In vain therefore you doe this man assaile By strength of hand: Desire you to prevaile? Conduce with Judas, let him have some gain; I fire the match, he blows't, lay you the train. This spoke, like to a Persian Decree, Dagon doth seale the Statute, hence go'th he: But ô, how wofull wretches be all you Who to this statute and decree doe how! It had been good, that you had ne're been born, Better not be at all, than be forlorn. They call anon for Judas, he doth come, They greet him with applauding welcome home, They doe intreat him that he would betray His master to them? he at first sayes nay; But being urg'd, he sayes, what will you give, And I shall bring him to you safe alive? They give him thirty silv'rings for his pay, And he to catch his master goes away. Of late, that spirit who feeds on endlesse fire, Did put a snare of Mammons foul desire Before my Master, that worlds plenteous store Might make him worship him: and what is more, Of late, I heard thee, very Judas, say To Mary Magdalen, what meanes this pray And store of pretious oyntment? were it sold, And put in treasure for the poor, it would Afford three hundred pence to ease their need, Their backs to cover, and their bellies feed:

Where's now thy Piety, and pirty gone? How is thy soft heart turn'd ••'a heart of stone? Ah now I see th'art sent to Mammons schoole, For he is pe••••••y-wi••e, and thou pound-foole: [I will deliver him to you] thou say'st, But this is more, proud wormling, then thou may'st, Had not his Father giv'n him by Decree, Had he not giv'n himselfe most willinglie, Had not the holy Ghost anoynted him To be a sacrifice for human crime, Nor damned thou, nor all the Dev'ls of hell Could make one haire from off his head to fall: But now the bargain's made, the price is payd, The Sonne of Man to sinners is betray'd; The Passeover that night must needs be kill'd, And so th' Almighty-father's will sufill'd: No man doth shew himselfe more apt or bent To snatch the seale of the old Testament, Then he whostands the better Cov'nants foe, That he partakes, and lets this other goe; O foul hypocrifie I deep induration! That cares not for true piety, but fashion, And by hid fraud seeks to blind-fold the eyes Of that great God, who, unseen, all things sees, They sit at table; and, the Passeov'r eat, Jesus beholding this white Dev'll at meat, Cries, Verily some one that sits nigh by Hath sold me, and this night shall me betray: Who would not think, but shame in Judas face Should have bewray'd both him and his trespasse? But sinnes bad custome hath so steel'd his brow, That he, to blush for shame, forgetteth now:

Of all the rest, each one can search, and say Tell me, good Master, is it I, or I? The Master for a time doth hold his peace, Then opes his mouth, and boldly to his face Layes down the modell of his treach'rous way, That so his future state he might display; It cannot be, saith Christ, but needs must come Offences; but woe to the man by whom The sonne of man shall be berray'd, it had Been good for him, a mill-stone had been layd About his neck, and then perfidiou he Should have been thrown into the deepest Sea; Yea, good it had been for him, that his mother Had never borne him: All this he doth smother, And with a bold out facing count'nar cecry Speak plainly, Master, rell me, is it I? Christ having charg'd him by his accusation, For his indictment addes this affirmation: Now thou hast said it; what thou dost, goe doe, Take here the sop I reach thee, goe, goe too, And what thou dost, doe quickly, for the will Of my great Father I thirst to fulfill, Nor will I drink more of this grape of wine Till in the heav'ns I drink it fresh and fine. No sooner hath he spoke those words, when loe Sathan, mans hatefull and orewarching foe, Entreth in Judas, and doth take possession Of his foule heart, for all his faire profession: Some ignorant by stander would have thought, Surely this man some speciall good hath wrought, That thus his Master doth the rest ore-top, And onely greet him with this speel all sop:

O, but by outward gifts no man can prove Either Gods righteous justice, or his love; For many times the wicked have excesse, While as the righteous perish its distresse; Better it had been for that false Disciple That he no lamb should eat, or wine could tipple, Then that by their big morsels Bathan should Make his foul heart his secret den and hold: Not that or bread or wine could keep within Their secret bosoms such a snare for finne; Or that a sop, dipt in so fowre a sauce, Of such a bad effect could be the cause; No, that were hard, no man should then digest His daily bread, but Sathan should arest Their soules, as capriues act him, were it so That by their food he could their soules ov'rthrow: No, no, that bread and wine were then no more A common dyet, as they were before, But Sacramentall then they were, and thus Exchang'd from common, to a sacred use; He who did eat them without faith and love, Did reap no profit to his soules behove; But he who in true faith those morsels ear, Receiv'd a better and spirituall meat, Even that true bread of life that came from heaven, And that true wine which to the Saints is given: Judas foul heart being emptl'd of all grace, It was no wonder though the Dev'll rook place Within his soule, and made him seven times more The sonne of Sathow, then he was before. Let all such then as in Gods house appeare Eat of his bread, and drink his wine with feare,

For as one house together cannot hold The God of Jacob, and base Dagons mold, So, in mans secret soule or hidden heart God will have nothing, if the Dev'll have part: If Jerubbael serve the Lord above, He must cut down his fathers heath'nish grove; If Tarshish ships would safe sale home to shore, A flying Jonas they must hug no more; And if a Lawyer would goe safe to heaven, He must forget or five, or six, or seaven; For God is one, and loveth no division, A gracious Union is his best provision: Were Achan living, he would tell thee truth, That poverty excells that wealth which doth Mans honour unto shame and sorrow sell, And well-nigh makes his soule a slave to hell: Rejected Saul, who spared Am'lecks flock, Were he alive, would still hold Samuels cloak, And never let him goe, till he got grace By true repentance to redeem his race. Bless'd is the man, who, since he naked come Into the world, and naked must turn home, Doth, by the shelter of his quiet fire, Make food and raiment curb his vast desire: For Worlds, Empires, & Courts, & Crowns, & Kings Are rich in cares, when Rest hath better things; But peace of Conscience makes the soule rejoyce More then the world and all her fading toyes.

The Agonie.

CANTO 2^o.

WHat man is he would truly know Christs Passi∣on, Then let him read that Lecture in this fashion; First, as a Story; next a Gospell; then A Pattern; last, a Benefit to men: A story first it is, where men may know That God in heav'n governs the world below; A Gospell 'tis, which teacheth us how God Converts our serpents to an usefull rod; A pattern 'tis, which doth in all our crosses Command that patience counterpoise our losses; A benefit at last it brings to such As by true faith his garments hem doe touch: O that we could first know aright, then trust, Then imitate, then hold him, as hee's just! So should we be learn'd Schollers, faithfull Saints, Obsequious Servants, rich Participants: But ah, our wishes and our weak desires Cannot suffice to blow those zeal-bred fires Which on Jove's sacred altars still should burn, And our oblations unto ashes turn: Come therefore, let us view that Paschall Lamb Whose blood disdain'd the cursed tents of Ham,

And drenching Goshens doors with wraths proud hand Did smite the first-born in all Misraims land: But ay me, where shall I begin to wonder At thee, dread Monarch, mighty sonne of thunder, Eternities sole word, and first-born sonne, Heav'ns promis'd, Earth accomplish'd Holy one? Thy majesty the very heav'ns admire, Thy power in the world doth still appeare, Thy Justice all the damn'd in hell doe know, Onely to man thou dost thy Mercy show: Come then, great thou, mans preordain'd peace-maker, Teach me the fittest way how I may sacre My pen, r'expresle the fearfull agonie Thou suffer'dst for us in Gethsemanie: Time, place, and person are the fittest square To make this building truly regular: If any shall enquire the period when Thou didst begin to suffer for us men, Scripture doth say, it was a darkned houre, While as the sonnes of darknesse had most power: The place is known, Gethsemans garden, for 'Twas meet, that where Adam did fall before, There thou, the second, should'st in bloody sweat Repaire the forfeit of our lost estate: The person who sustains this weight of woe, Is very God, and very Man also, God, that his worth might Gods wrath sarisfie, Man, that in weaknes he might smart and dye: O but this time and houre must yet be shown A little more; sometimes 'tis call'd thy own, Sometime 'tis theirs; That we may know the right, Disperse our cloudy doubt, and give us light:

To speak the truth, at first this houre was theirs, Then thine, then ours; on these three paire of staires Time tripping up and down, hath made the sourse Of our redemption to perfect her course: Their time it was of sinne and sinfull wrath, Such was the power both of sinne and death; Thy houre it was of suffering and of smart, For feare and anguish did oppresse thy heart; Our houre it also was, for then began The expiation of the sinnes of man; Their houre of darknesse, and thy houre of death, Our houre of life, and liberty from wrath: When thou (great master) first at Cene's wedding Turn'd water into wine, at Maries bidding, I heard thee check her, and in seeming wrath, As if she had ev'n sinned to the death, Say, woman, what have I to doe with thee? My houre is not yet come, get thee from me: Of late, when from a steep high mountain they Intend to throw thee down, thou shrunk'st away, And giving place unto their furious sume, Thou told'st them that thy houre was not yet come: Since then, when high-Priests, Pharisees, and all Thy foes together did conspire thy fall. Thou told'st them, as a program of their doome, They toyl'd in vain, thy houre was not yet come; How many houres of honor hast thou had? How many times hast thou been worshipped? When Sages from the East did presents bring, And layd them at thy feet, as Juries King; VVhen in the desert Angels brought thee meat, And by their service did proclaim thy State;

When on mount Tabor thy bright face did shine, And heav'ns proclam'd thee heire of their divine Inheritance; when Salems strders didring, With loud Hosannaes to thee as their King; Although those houres were all, and alwayes great, Yet did'st thou not account their pompe or state Worthy to have the note of thy great houre; But when thou com'st to make our sweet thy sowre, That houre thou tak'st, and only counts it thine, Because in it thy Father did propine That cup of wrath to thee, men should have drunk, If thou from his fierce wrath hadst fled or shrunk.

While thou, with thy great Father, and his Spirit, Before all time did'st all times praise in herit, All houres were thine, all times; and all times motion Did bow their knees to thee at thy devotion; Yea, when unto thy Image man was made, And for his use the world was furnished, Thou mad'st the Stars, the Sun, and Moon to shine, And servefor poore mans use, but not for thine Man had, and hath all times at his command; Sometime he sits, and sometime he doth stand, Sometime he laughts, and sometime sadly weeps, Sometime he watcheth, some time sweetly sleeps, Sometime he builds, sometime he doth destroy, Sometime he's dumpish, sometime rapt with joy; All those doe stand subdu'd unto man's will, At his direction their tides band fill: But thou no time hast chosen, save this one Poore houre of darknesse, this thou call'st thine own; Nor dost thou so for thine own sake, but that Thou being a Lambe of God immaculat,

In this dark houre of suff ring thou might'st be The Asahel of God, the seepe-goat We; Ne'er did the wounded Deere with more desire Run to the water brooks to queuch his fire, Then thou dost thirst to taste that wofull cup Which Adam's with'red hand could not beare up; Man thou didst make at first, and him so lov'd, That for his rescue from Gods wrath, 't be hov'd Thee to be Man, and all his sinnes sustain To reunite him to his God again: Such leve as this hath not as yet been known, As thou unto the sonnies of men hast shown; The love that Danid did to Jou'than beare, Or to proud Absoloms gold-locks of haire, With this thy love cannot be parallel'd, Thy love's epcinall, mah's by time is quel'd. The old Passeover being finish'd, now The Eucharist succeedeth in that liew; They sing a Psalme, and praise that mighty God Who brought his Isr'el out from Aegypts rod: Then sayth my Saviour, Now the houre draw'th neer Of my dread suffrings, all of you stands here, By me this night shall be offended, for 'Tis writ, The shepheard I will smite, therefore The sheep shall all be scattered anon, And I to sorrow shall be left alone; Yet come, thus, thus it needs must be, for so The Prophets have forespoken long agoe. This Peter heareth, and with pride oppress'd, As if his heart were steel'd, his bones were brass'd, He saith, though vainly, Master, whither shall We run from thee? though all the world should fail,

And shrink from thee, yet will I never leave thee Till dust and earth doe of my life bereave me. Peace Peter, saith my Saviour, hold thy peace, Before the Cock crowtwice, even to my face Thou shalt deny me thrice, and by base feare Of this thy life, thou shalt my love forsweare. Thus out they goe, and over Kedrons brook, Whereas Mounr Olive; overshading looke Covers Gethseman's garden, there they stay, But Jesus go'th aside, and thus doth pray:

Father, the houre is come, now glorifie Thy Sonne, as he hath glory giv'n to thee; All such as thou didst give me, I have kept, And none of them hath perish'd, save that sheep Or rather childe of wrath and of perdition, For him thou didst nor give to my tuition; This is eternall life, that man should know Thee for true God, and me thy Sonne also; This I have taught them, this doe they believe, Eternall life by this doe thou them give; I pray not for the world, for them I pray That they in me by faith may alwayes stay, I doe not pray that from the world thou take there, But that thou in the world doe ne'er forsake them, For while they in the world remain, they're hated, And for my names sake shall be ill intreated; But I have kept them in thy name, and they Both know thee, doe believe, and thee obey; Keep them therefore, ô Father, by thy truth, Thy word is truth, they have it from my month Nor doe I pray for them alone, but eke For all these Prof lyres, who salvation seek

By faith (begotten by their word) in me: O let them share in my felicitie, For thou and I, ô righteous God, are one, Let them with us have also unione; That as thou art in me, and I in thee, So they may be made one with us trulie, And by their joynture with us two may shun Sinne, death, and hell, and condemnation.

Thus hath he prayed, and now returning, he To Peter, James, and John, familiarlie Gives this forewarning, Watch and pray, lest that Your restlesse foe doe catch you in his net: He go'th again unto his former station, To taste the first fruits of his bitter passion; He kneeleth down to pray, but sense of wrath Makes him to cry, My soule unto the death Is heavy; Father, if it be thy will Take this cup from me, let not thy wraths rill Lay more upon me then my strength can beare, O heare me, Father, bow thine ears and heare. But ah! his Agony waxing still more great, Through his pure vains and pores, a bloody sweat Doth from his body so bedew the ground, As if from Eor••••a's presseh' had got a wound: Three severall times in this perplexed state Doth Christ the selfe same words reiterat; Father, he cryeth still, O let this cup Passe from inde, for I cannot drink it up; Yet if it be thy will, let it be so, Thy will, and not my own, I came to doe, Father, againe I pray thee let this houre Passe from me, for 'tis tart above my power;

Yet for this houre into the would come I; Why should I then decline, an piety? No, though I smart in this my passion, Not my will, Father, but thy will be done.

Now all this while doe his Disciples fleep, A Lethargy upon their soules did creep; And though he wak'd them thrice yet thrice again They doe return to their Lethargiouest into But heav'ns amaz'd to see his soule so sad, Doe by an Angels comfore make him glad: Who can behold the passage of this story, And see the dumpish fits o'th' God of glory, And not be struck with more then admiration, To view the sonne of God's evacuation? What griefe, what fear, what blood, what sweat is this, Which wallowing like the Oceans vast abisse, Can finde no bottom, nor restrayning brink, To curbe his woes or make his sorrows shrink? O Bozra, now I see thy robes are read! O Ramah, now thy joyes are banished! O Rachel, now thy children are transperted, And justly thou disdainist to becomforted From Edoms winepresse whilst of late the come, Hoping to finde somesweet refresh o•• home, Thou couldst find none, thou trod'st that presse of wine Alone, and therefore no mans greises like thine: But ah me blessed Soviour! where be now Thy wonted comforts, and that strength'ning crew Of consolations, which thou gavist of late To thy Disciples in their wofull state? Where's now the comforts which the Scriptures say Thy presence doth for evermore display?

Where's now th•••• hope, which in deaths valley, from Thy rod and shepheards crook were wont to come? Where's now the promise of that great comforter Which thou didst promise as our soules supporter? What shall become of us poore withered shrubs! Of hysop how shall we endure the rubs, And counter-pusss of fact all lictions, when Thou, lofty Cedar, low••es and bows for men, Under that burthen and that load of wrath That should presse man down to the second death? What was it Saviour, tell me, that thus lay Upon thy back with such impetuous sway? That made thee, with a sad redoubled groane, Say that thy soule to th'gates of death was throwne? What? was it feare of death, and fore felt-paine That madethee in such measure to complaine? Or was't the shame of thy ensuing Crosse, That made thee utter this distemper'd voyce? No, no, farre be't from me to wrong thee so; Those sighs, those groans, and grief's redoubled woe, Did from another deeper sourse and spring Send forth their runnais wofull bubling: It was the wofull burthen of mans finne, Joyn'd with th'Etem all wrath, that did begin This wofull combat in thy soule; for loe, What we should suffer, thou didst undergoe! Hence were thy griefes, thy bloody sweats, and teares, Hence were thy supplicavions and thy feares, Hence were th' affrighting passions of thy soule, As man alone, thou could'st not them controle; The spirit of man infirm'ty may sustaine, But who can beare th' Almighties deep disdaine?

To see the Sonne of God sweat drops of blood, 〈…〉〈…〉 And yet no wonder though •• wond'rous cause Produce effect that reason quite diss••nowes; If hell and death, have pains in toll••••able, If flesh be weak, and humane faith be feeble, What wonder was it, though, with flesh aray'd, Thou of th'Eternalls wrath wast so dismay'd: The wonder is, how thou our true Phisition Knowing our sicknesse and our sad condition, Cor Id'st by the drinking of our poyson'd Cap Refresh our soules and eke revive our hope O that in this thy wofull agonie We could but read our own perplexitie! So should our sighs and teares in time prevent Th'eternall throbbings of deaths punishment; But since we cannot, as we would, recall Our mispent time, and so repaire our fall, O teach us in our lives to follow thee, That with thee we may finde conformitie Of comfort in our crosse, so shall thy grace Once make us to enjoy thee face to face; Yea, let the path or way be what it will, Let griefe, and toile, and tears, and torment, still Beat down our outward Man, yet let us make Our inner man more strong by faith, and take Example by thee, both in life and death, To seek Gods favour and to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his wrath.

The Surpryse.

CANTO 3^o.

THrice hath the Sonne of righteousnes display'd The soure-sweet symptoms of a soule dismay'd; And thrice hath zeale-bred pray'rs prevayling power Recleer'd th'eclypses of his darkned houre; Thrice hath he bidden his Discyples pray, Lest to tentation they should one the way; But while he checks their watch, they're still asleep, Droun'd in the bottome of secur'ties deep, So frequent are our foyles, our faith •• unsteady That flesh is ever weak, though th'spirit's ready; Yet once more will he rouze them from their rest, And print this farewell, Sermon in their breast: My friends, saith he, oft have, I bid you watch, Lest Sathan in his snare your soules should catch, But you havedroup'd you have been drouzy still, Hence forth goe sleep, and take your rest at will, For th' houre is come. The Sonne of Man's betray'd The Traitounis at hand and for his avde. An armed Legion com'th, yet none can take My life from me; but for my poore sheeps sake I lay it down, and take it up againe, And by my willing death, you life retain:

Arise, let us goe hence: Scarse are they gone When loe the traitor and his legion Come all along, and to my Saviour goe, First to surprize him, then work his ov'r throw, And first comes Judus, in a poore Lambs fleece, Though inwardly a raying Wolfe be is, Throwing his arms about his Masters neck. Doth greet him with this foule dissembling check; Haile Master; to his word he joyns a kisse, And by that signall tells the troupe who h'is: But, ô my Saviour meekly doth enquire, Friend, wherefore com'st thou so? dost thou desire By this thy kisse to kill the Sonne of Man? The task is foule, goe on, doe what thou can; Hadst thou but as a stranger been suborn'd Thus to betray me, I could well have born 't, Or hadst thou as a causlesse hatefull foe Conspir'd to work and perpetrate my woe, I would not then have grudged, But to see Him who did dip his hand ith' dish with me, And him who in my bosome lately lay, Lift up his heele against me, and betray Me to the death, 'tis strange! but Father, what Thou hast begun, continue, consummat.

Fie on thee Judas, Sathans first born sonne, Hadst thou but kept one spark of grace within Thy hellish breast, these words of friendly love Might have suffic'd, thy treach'rous heart to move, And pull'd thee down upon thy soules bow'd knees To beg the pardon of thy treacheries: But ah! as one poore bubbling drop alone Can hardly gutter flint, or Porphire stone;

So, hardly can one word, though ne'er so ••••ue, An indur'd heart to sense of sinne subdue. Whil'st thus he sp••••ks to Judas, all the ••est Of that proud rable have themselves addrest To apprehend him straight way, He but saith, Whom seek you friends? Jesus of Nar, areth Say they: he answers, Surely I am he, Which words import, he's God and Man trulie; Iam, did from the burning bush foretell The safe redemption of his Israel, And this word, He doth his human'ty show, Who by his death should satisfie the Law; For he's the Man, and truly onely He, Who gives man life and im••ortalitie: No sooner hath he spoke ••hose words, I'm he, When by those words, consounded, back they flie, And to the ground doe fall, such was the power And piercing virtue of my Saviour: He doth enquire againe, Whom would you have? Jesus, say they, the man of Naxareth: I surely am the man, saith he, the truth I have already told you from my mouth, If me you seek, then let those goe their way, From you I shall not flie, but with you stay, For what is writ of me, fulfill I must, Let those goe safe, lot me sustain the worst.

Not long agoe my Saviour hath foretold The times were comming, in the which men should Of two coats sell the one, and buy a sword; Peter remembreth this Prophetione Word, And seeing Matchas proudly lay his hand Upon his Master, draweth forth his brand,

And ayminght proud Malchus head, that blow Did crop his eare, and cut it quite in two: Surely the sword of Peter was but just, Who stops his ear to God, and man doth trust, May justly lose his eare, his eye, his hand, And all his body that doth God withstand: But Peter here doth wrong, could he but know't, He beats the stone, and quts the hand did throw't; The blow on Judas should have been moresure, Who th' Author was of this distemp'rature; Malchus but acts false Judas falser plot, 'Tis pitty Judas had not Malchus lot: Yet, that poore Peter now may wisely know That good intention's not enough to show The actions good; and, that shows cannot hide The hidden frailty of a self-sick pride, Christ bids him put his transhing sword againe Into his place, for humane streng this vaine, And he who by the sword his will doth cherish, Shall sometime by the sword both fall and perish; Dost thou not know, saith he, that, what a cup My father doth propine, I must drink up Thouh it were ne'er so bitter? were't not so, This world should perish in an endlesse woe: Or dost thou think, that if I pleas'd t'escape, I could not this earths drossie globe ov'rleap, And riding on a thousand Cherubs wings Prepareany ineseue with the King of Kings? Or think'st thou not, but if I lov'd t'remove, I could command the wings o'th' morning dove, And flying hence, could ease my selfe, and rest Or in the Opall morn, or Amber west?

Cannot he who upon the winds doth ride, And makes his clouds his messengers beside; Cannot he who on th'Oceans waves doth trip, And lets his foot-steps neither sink nor slip, From out a wormlings paws himself our wring, Like Davids pebble from his whirling sling? Or thinkest thou that I am left alone? No sure, I and my Father both are one; And for my rescue, if I lov'd to fight, And show my unresisted power and might, No earthly Monarch can on earth command So many millions for his guard to stand, As I have Angels ready at my call, To beare me in their arms lest I should fall; O weak Disciple, thou hast had true zeale, But lack of knowledge makes thy love to faile? Thou canst not interrupt that great decree My Father hath propos'd from 'ternitie; What, shall my Fathers Justice alwaies smoak? Or shall his indignations heavy ycak Still lye on Man? shall never mercy, peace, And righteousnes poore Adams seed embrace? No, if poore mans falvation could be wrought Without my suffrings, or his soule be brought Back from the gates of death without my blood, Then surely this contest might have seem'd good; But since no man on earth, or Sp'rit in heaven Can finish that contract which ondewas driven 'Twixt God and Man in Paradise, but I, I see no reason, or occasion why Thou should'st so good awork withstand, unlesse Thou should'st in very pride of heart professe

Thy wisdome can outreach th'Etemall story, Of Mans salvation, and my Fathers glory.

Thus having check'd poore Peter, now at last The Ruffians seize upon him, make him fast; But ere he goes with them, he doth repaire The wound that Peter made on Malchus eare; For loe he doth but touch it with his hand, And, as the other, it re-joyn'd doth stand: Many great wonders hath he wrought ere while, But such as this did never time beguile; In all the rest he refcu'd still the poore, And such as sought him for their bodies cure; But here he is found of them that seek him not, And heal'th the rascall would have cut his throat: O great, ô deep, ô never matched love, Which burning in th' Almighties breast above, Hath not to strangers only his love shown, But also to his en'mies made it known! Even so it is, and so hath alwayes been, He makes his rain to fall, and sun to shine Both on the wicked and the righteous, that To God they both may sing Magnificat. Now, now me thinks I see poore Abel fall By Cain's hand, without a cause at all; And spotlesse Jo seph to a Midian sold, Blasphem'd, and cast in prisons deepest hold: Now, now the Arke of Jacobs God is taken, And by a cursed ••hilistim is shaken: Now, now, gainst Sampson, Timnahs sonnes doe rage, And now the vineyards hyrelings act their stage Against the owner and his sonne, they've vow'd In his best blood to have their hands embrew'd;

But he, like to a Lambeled dumbe before His shearer, opes his corrall lips no more; But only this, How often have I taught Both in your streets and Synagogues? and nought You either did, or spoke against me, Now With swords, and staves, and spears, I know not how, You come to take me as I were a theefe, And none hath pitty, none shewes me reliefe.

How joyfull now be all that rascall rout, Who have beleaguer'd the poore Lambe about? How many Io Paeans doe they sing? How doe their chimes and bels their praises ring? How many wags and wantons now doe run To greet the Scean of this confusion? But whither doe the Lyons drag their pray, But to their den, that it devoure they may? And whither doe these mastives draw this Lamb, But to the High Priests house from whence they came? All his Disciples now are fled and gone, Only doth Peter follow him alone, That by experience he might search and try What should be th'issue of this tragedy: Now Christ unto the High Priests house is fet, And in a squallid corner bench is set, Peter stands in the ponch, but doth not enter For feare his life, within, should goe t'adventer; But night is dark, and Morphe•••• luls asleep The eyes of such as to his lap doe creep, The ayre grow'th strange, and Bo••••as from his hold Makes Flora's flock to shake, his breath's so cold, A fire is therefore made of burning coals To warme their bodies, whose enflamed souls.

Burn'd hotter with the flames of envies fire Then doth Vesuvius in his fiercest ire; Here doe they warm, here tauntingly they talke Concerning cold Gethsemans secret walke, Peter comes in to warm himselfe a space, And loe, a handmaid flouts him to the face, My friend, sayes she, or I am much deceiv'd, Or you are one of those who lately brav'd Along our streets, whil'st yonder fellow rode Upon his Asse like to a Demi-god: What doe you mean, saith Peter, sure not I, I doe not know the man, or's company: Again, the dam'sell hearing him fay so, Veilard, saith she, I doe for certaine know Th'art one of those who with him still did live Thy very Sibbols doe this witnesse give: Thou wrong'st me much, saith Peter, this is true, That yonder man I never saw till now: But last of all, a man who stood nigh by, Doth thus affront him, Doe not thou deny His late acquaintance, for it is not long Since in Gethseman thou didst Malchus wrong; By this, the Cock, day's Herauld, claps his wings, And crowing, doth proclaime, the morning springs, And not content with one poore small alarme, He crowes againe, and multiplies his charme; Peter heares this, and softly shrinks a way, The secret cock that in his bosome lay Crowes louder to him (a great deale) then that Which lately, did the day prognosticat, And whil'st he softly steps aside to flye, His Master looks upon him with his eye,

And by that gratious look doth now recall To Peters fainting soules memoriall, How he had said, Before the cock crow twice Peter shall sweare, and eke deny me thrice: By this rememb'rance, he who late did sleepe, Now wak'd, goes out, and bitterly doth weep: O gratious Master, ô ingrate Disciple! How doe thy favours and thy frailties triple Their contrair combinations one t'another? 'Tis strange to see such contrairs dwell together.

Of old, while Sin••y gave that thundring Law Which led all Israel to a trembling aw, The heav'ns, the earth, and all that was therein Did seem to threaten Isr'el for her sinne, For there the thundrings, lightnings, trumpets, fires So thrill'd the eyes, the ears, and hid desires Of Jacobs seed, that now for feare they cry Let Moses speak, not God, for else we dy; But now by thee Mount Syon opes her doore, Which since the worlds first birth was shut before, And by thee, as his sonne, he doth declare Mercy to those who Judgements children were: But Peter, whil'st I doe behold thy fall From off that top which thou didst lately saile, What wonder is't though stripling I be shaken, And with a tempest trespasse be ov'rtaken? But bless'd be God, thy fall was not so soule, But true repentance hath restor'd thy soule; That all the world may know, As sinne breeds death, The promise of true life Repentanee hath.

Look how a well-rig'd Pinnace set to sea With blind, and Maine, and Misaens liberty,

Lacking a Pilot, who by due regard Should sit at stern, and point her tre••bling card, Whil'st Dolphin-like she skips against the skies, As if she would Joves starry throne surprise, And like a Triton, in the glassie field Dives down again, and being forc'd to yield To Neptunes rage, she visits Pluto's cell, As if she sought Euridice from hell; But recomforted by sweet Zephyr's gailes, Whose following favours fill her empty sailes, In short time she attains her wished shore, Where winters tempests threaten her no more: So fareth it with the irres'lute brests Of Adams off-spring, who doe build their rests On their own strength, no sooner doe they scale The Barracad's of Fortunes slippry ball, When either fainting feare be-leads their heels, And so they sink; Or else their Chariot wheels Drawn by presumptuous Palfries, trot so fast, That hardly can they shun a fall at last, Unlesse some strong, strong hand doe curb their rein, And so their ruine and their shame restrain; For whil'st th'impetuous fancies of fraile man Sets him to try the worlds vain Ocean, Unlesse a steddier hand than is his own Doe guide his course, he's either quite orethrown, Or dash'd in peeces 'gainst some sturdy rock, So furious be the flames of Sathans shock: Thrice happy he, whom Jacobs God doth guide, And in his secret tent doth alwayes hide; Thrice happy he, whose heart kept in Gods hand Doth neither faintly fall, nor proudly stand,

But in a due contemp'rature of Grace, 'Twixt faith and feare doth wisely run his race; O, surely such a one, when windes doe blow, When seas doe rage, and earth no rest doth know, Shall by the secret influence of heaven So steare his course, and hold his ballance even, That neither death, nor life, nor wealth, nor want, Nor weale, nor woe can crush his Covenant, But holding still the gripes of grace h'hath got, Still eyes his Pole, and so he finketh not.

The Assize.

CANTO 4^o.

OF late I heard the High Priests Cock crow day, Of late I saw Aurora shrink away From Darknesse center, to th'Eoan plain, T'enamell Heav'ns, and guild the Ocean; But, ay me! scarcely could the pearly morn With opall light our earthly globe adorn, When loe, Ixyons dark condensat cloud Did Pha'ton (Titans Coach-man) so oreshroud, That one should think, two nights combin'd in ire Had met together to drown out Sols fire; A presage, sure, that ere that Sun should set, A brighter Sun should be exanimat:

Yet hopefull day hath over come that shade, And Titans rayes, reclear'd, made Flora glad: But all this while, since yester-nights surprise Till now that Phaebus 'gins to deck the skies, My Saviour hath been bound with twisted cords, Beaten with blowes, wrong'd by sarcastick words!

Fond Jews, and foolish Souldiers, tell me why You doe outbrave him with such cruelty? Had he not by his own will more been ty'd, Then by the Cart-ropes of your swelling pride, He, like to Sampson, might have burst your flax, And made your bonds to melt away like wax: But now, what eye can choose but weep to see Those hands which fram'd the heav'ns, the earth, the sea, And by his dainty singers framed man More nearly fine then art or nature can, Thus wrung and wrested with a cord or rope, Even whil'st Arachne-like he spins our hope? But ah me! Mans hard heart's indured so, That he can no compassions strain allow On him, who from the heav'ns vouchsafes to take Our nature, for our Soules redemptions sake.

Now Annas High-Priest, and his sonne in law Great Caiaphas, unto a Councell draw The whole Sanhaedrin, Pharisees, and all Whose suffrage can or life or death empale, To judge the just one by injustice; He Submits himself to all their tyrannie: But ô you fooles and hypocrites, wherefore Serves all this tumult, and this mut'nous stirre? One blow in secret might have finished Your wrath against him; such the Baptist had:

But now I see, Envy and Malice both Concurre together to oppresse the Truth, And under shew of truth and justice, must Sentence be giv'n unjustly 'gainst the just, And since the Scriptures be not yet fulfill'd, His blood in secret must not now be spill'd. The Bench is set, the Judges are conveen'd, The guiltlesse is accus'd, and guilty deem'd, False witnesse now are sought, and many come, The hall is full, there is no empty room; At last two sonnes of Bielal are brought, They witnesse 'gainst him what he never thought, Thou sayd'st (deceiver) say they, Let this Temple Be quite destroy'd, and in three dayes, more ample I will re-build it, Fourty years and six Were spent in squaring stones, and carving sticks, To build it first; and now thou say'st, in three Dayes space thou wilt repair't more sumptuously; What, canst thou doe it? But he holds his peace, And answers not to that their forged case, And wisely doth he so; for, bruise a fool Even in a morter, yet his folly still Shall cleave unto him; wrangling is a vice, And to the truth brings often prejudice: The High-Priest seeing this, saith, I adjure Thee, by the living God, to tell me sure If that thou be the Christ, the sonne of God, Say either yea or nay? (and there he stood:) Jesus replies, Thou say'st it, I am he, This world another Saviour shall not see; And that thou may'st my words the more believe, I tell thee, that hereafter God shall give

The Sonne of Man this honour, to sit down At his right hand, in glory and renown; And thou shalt see him come again from thence To judge this world, by righteous recompence At those words Caiaphas his cloaths doth rend Ev'n from their top unto their lower end, Although against the laws expresse commend,* 1.34 Which to the contrair tyes the High Priests hand•• O, now I see there's an appointed time, And for each thing beneath the Sun a Prime, A time to laugh, and so a time to weep, A time to travell, and a time to sleep, A time to build, a time eke to destroy, A time to sorrow, and a time to joy, A time to rest, a time to run our race, A time to speak, a time to hold our peace; Whil'st foolish Ruffians did their cavill spue, He neither said that they were false or true, But now whil'st he his Fathers name doth heare, Setting aside of humane force all feare, He boldly speaks the truth, and doth display The hidden Godhead in his flesh did lie: The High Priest hath his robe no sooner tore, When thus he speaks; What need we any more To cite a witnesse 'gainst him; hath not he Blasphemed God before us, impiously? I know not what you think him worthy, sure I think him guilty, shamefull death t' indure: To this they all applaud, with acclamation, O let him die, and perish from this Nation: Yet once more proudly doth the Priest enquire Him of his Doctrine, and Disciples; Ire

And rapid rage doth to his soule possesse, That Truth and Conscience with him have no place.

Christ answers; In your Synagogues have I Still taught; and by me nothing secretly Is done or said, enquire of them therefore Who heard me, let them witnesse lesse or more. By this, one of those slaves who stood neer by Doth smite him on the face, most vil'nously, And ads this motto to his cruell blow, What, Villaine? dost thou answer th' High-Priest so? Christ meekly replyes, If I have spoke wrong Beare witnesse of it; but if thus my tongue Hath spoke the truth, why smit'st thou me? 't may be Some higher hand repay thy villanie.

Ah me! my God, how hath this High Priest still Spoke prophecy, although against his will? Of late he said, it was expedient that One for the nation should be immolat; And now he sayes, he's guilty to the death, And so both truth and lye pronounced hath: O what a vaticiny, what a word Is this that Caiaphas doth now afford? Guilty he was, to die the death he come, And yet not guilty to the death; as some Man born in sinne, to die the death is born, Because by sinne he's guilty, and forelorne; But he did neither sinne, nor know trespasse, For, Gods 〈◊〉〈◊〉'•••• Lambe, and Sonne he was; And therefore since he knew not sinne, no death Ov'r him or power or jurisdiction hath: Yet guilty was he, for 〈◊〉〈◊〉 guilt he tooke, And by the way for 〈…〉〈…〉 of the brooke,

And so was guilty made to death, for loe, His bodies death must our soules death ov'rthrow; Thus was he guilty to the death, and yet Nor guilt, nor death his innocence did fit, His was the death, the guilt was ours, and so Both from the guilt and death w'are free to goe.

Next to this censure, all those catyss still With excrements his glorious face doe spill; And though the glorious hoast of heav'n are bold In him to gaze Gods wisdome manifold, Yet, muffling up his face, they hood-wink's eyes, Then crave, in scorn, to heare his Prophecies: This not enough, they be not yet content T'afflict his body, and his soule torment, But what is more, to Pilat's civill power They lead him, there to have his death made sure: From out the High Priests house and hall he's led, And unto Pilat's hall is carried; Tumultuous crowds of people run along, To make their malice, and their griefe more strong, And in Iudibrious manner thus doe cry, Here's Naz'reths Propher, pray you make him way: Pilat affrighted with the Convocation, Comes forth and cals the head o' th' Combination, And asks the cause of this their concourse, for Such stirre Jerus'lem had not seen before; Yet ere the Roman Depute will approve Their combination, he doth gravely move This question to them; What hath this man done, Or gainst the State, or gainst Religion? If he had nor a malefactour been, Say they to Pilate, sure thou hadst not seen

Us stand as supplicants before thy doore, Nor had we ever judg'd him by thy pow'r: O cruell catiffes, irreligious you, Who act such murther under pieties show! To Pilat's house you come, but will not enter, As if his house were hells condemning center: Woe, woe to you, Scribes, Pharisees, and Priests, You rav'ning Wolves, dissembling Hypocrites, Why doe you think by 'xternall rites and showes To purge that poyson in your hearts ov'rflowes? Why doe you make your platter clean without While as the fountain's poyson'd round about? Why doe you guild your graves with pretious stones, Whose richest linings are but rotten bones? Why doe you wash your hands so oft with water, While as your hearts be lust and prides Theater? It is not Pilat's roof, nor Pilat's wall, Nor the corruption of his Judgements hall Can make you so unclean, or so impure As doth your sinfull soules distemp'rature; For what is from without, cannot so much Defile the Man, as doth the hearts hid touch: But thus th' Almighty hath decreed, and thus, You have determin'd; by a secret push To catch the innocent unto your snare, While as your words be soft, and smoothly faire; But he who in the highest heav'ns doth dwell, Can both your fraud detect, and pride repell, And will in his own time your plots repay Upon your pates, with woe and weal-away. Jesus now stands before the Pagan Judge, And from his fury findeth no refuge,

Pilat enquires him, Art thou Juries King? I am, saith he, without dissembling; But in this world my Kingdome hath no place, Nor hath this world a portion of my grace: Pilat then on his Judgements feat fits down, And once more asks him, of Judaeas Crown, And tels him that if he that Crown should claim Then should he wrong Augustus Diadem: Not I, saith he, let Caesar have what's his And God what's God's; no other thing I wish: But while this Roman on his bench doth sit, His wife did by her letter him intreat, Yea, she adjures him that he should not touch That just man; for, saith she, I've suffer'd much Concerning him, this last night in my sleep, The gods preserve thee, and thy conscience keep, That unto him thou doe no wrong nor harm, For feare hath giv'n my soule a sad alarme:

This Pilat reads, but's deafe to such a tale, Where will doth govern, words will not prevaile; He therefore calls the multitude aloud, Heare mut'nous you, and hark you envious croud, Whom will you that at this your solemne feast I should let loose to you? what think you best? Here have we Barrabas, a murth'ring thiefe, Will you that he goe loose and have reliefe, Or, shall we let this Jesus goe, pray tell, For your desire shall be my Centinell. O, Barrabas, say they, let him goe free, But for this Jesus, him let's Crucifie: VVell then, saith Pilat, since it must be so, Him shall you have, and Barrabas shall goe,

Yet bring me here some water? water's brought, And for dissimulation lacketh nought: His hands he washeth; his dissembling heart Stands still corrupt and foul in every part, Yet doth he call, Come malecontented you, To this just man take heed what you shall doe, For in him I doe finde no fault at all, Why one haire of his head to ground should fall; I therefore to your conscience doe appeale, To Church, to Councell, and to Common-weale, That from his blood I stand this day as free As be my hands from their impurity. Alas vain Pilot! hadst thou cleans'd thy heart, As thou hast wash'd thy hands, then sure no part Of this mans blood should have against thee cry'd, Then should both heart and hand been purifi'd; But since one thing thou sayst; and dost another, Thy words shall not thy foule transgression smother, In short time thou shalt finde what 'tis to shroud A bloody heart under thy wash'd hands cloud, Water hath but a superficiall strain, It cannot purge the heart, nor make it clean, No, Davids hyssop water, nor Jobs snow, Though ne're so well dissolued in their thaw, Nor Abanah, nor Parphars gliding streams, Nor hoary Jordan, whose author'ry claims Preheminence above all rills; because In her the Syrians leprosie did pause, Shall not be able to dissolve that spot Which by this jurisdiction thou hast got: And thrice unhaphy, cruell-hearted Jews, Had you the wit to pr••c••gnosce the news

That this mans blood shall, as a passing bell, One day against your soules and bodies knell, You neither should have wish'd his blood to fall On you, nor on your seeds memoriall.

Hence is my Saviour from the bench forth sent, That with a lashing whips sad chastisement His back and belly, in a bloody gore, Of forty stripes save one may feele the sore; And reconvey'd to Pilats house again, As if he had not suffred wrong nor pain, He's stripped naked, Adam-like, while as He blush'd for shame because he naked was; But fig-tree leaves there cover'd Adams skin, Here no fig-tree can lend a leafe, wherein My Saviour can enwrap his bleeding wound, Whose gutt'ring drops distains the very ground: Pilat beholding this, begins to hault, (Such was the rancour of his false hearts fault) For sinne at first doth to the sense seem sweet, But tart as gall in end, saith th'hypocrite; He labour'd therefore much to let him goe, But neither heav'n nor earth will now say so, But still, the more that Pilat pleads him free, The more they thirst the Christ to crucifie; And that his royall dignities they may Though in a sarcasme, to the world display, They with a Crown of thorns doe deck his head, His Royalty by this stands fignifi'd, And he who in our flesh our head became, In bloody letters writes our anagram: Next this, a scarlet robe they put upon him, And in his hand a Rood; then gazing on him,

VVith [ecce homo] they doe bend their knees, And greet him with those incongrueties; Haile Master, say they, haile thou Juries King, Thy Crown and Scepter tels us thou must ring: But ay me! gratious Saviour, whil'st they now Enact the Scean of thy dishonour, how Doe heav'n and earth declare thy glorious worth, And unto thee true Majesty bring forth? Their Crown of thorns confesseth thou art King, Their purpure robes, our sinnes true covering, The reed put in thy hand, as Scepter, showeth VVhat heav'n, and earth, and hell unto thee oweth, And whil'st in scorne to thee they bend their knees, They shew that all the worlds chiefe royalties Shall doe thee worship, for the Lord once swore, And it shall come to passe, Each creature In heav'n and earth shall bow before thy rod, And ev'ry tongue confesse thee to be God; And their last ecce homo, shall at last Through heav'n and earths whole fabrick so be cast, That such as strip'd, and scourg'd, and pierc'd thee, shall Before thy footstoole with great terrour fall, And learn, unto their griefe, that thou art King, VVhil'st all thy Saints shall Halelujahs sing To thee, whose crosse, whose cares, whose pains, whose shame Procures their light, their life, their Diadem.

The Crosse.

CANTO 5^o.

THrough many sad afflictions, and at last Through gates of death the righteous man is cast; Yet never man hath tasted of so many Sad tribulations, nor was death, by any So born, as by my Saviour, from whose birth Untill his sad return unto the earth, He never found a place wherein to hide His head from malice, envy, wrath, and pride, And yet, for all those suffrings which be gone, He doth but now begin his Passion: Pilat hath judged, and condemn'd him too, His heart still saying that his tongue's untrue; And now at last like Abel, to the field Though innocent, he must be led, and killd: The place wherein his Crosse is made to stand Is Golgotha, a place infamous, and All putrifi'd with dead mens skuls and bones And loathsome vapours of corruptions, Yet here, and no where else, must he be made A sweet-smell'd savour both for quick and dead, And if we to traditions may give trust, Where the first Adam lay, the second must

By his dread suffring and his woes make full The hollow caverns of first Adam's skull, That as in Adam's name's four letters, ly The hidden ridle of his Impery.* 1.35 So by that self-same word and borrow'd name The Second must his Gospels bounds proclame.

The Jewish criminations, though unjust, Have made him now a vassall to their lust; Not to the Altar, but to Calvary, Not to the Temple, but the Cursed tree, Not in the City, but without the gate, Not in a corner, but in publique hate, Not in a valley, but upon a mountain His pretious blood must bubble from its fountain, That to all corners of the Earth, great he May offer mercies liberality: When first his Parents to the Temple went, And him unto the Lord did represent, He in that morning, morning-like, was made A morning sacrifice for quick and dead; Now in the ev'ning of his life must he An ev'ning offring and oblation be, That by his quiet rest and ev'ning sleep He might us in perpetuall quiet keep: Now is our Isaac on his way, and beares Upon his back the symbole of our feares, In such a patient way, th•••• Nature might Have been asham'd to see so sad a sight: If faintings, watchings, bloody swears, and blowes, If stripes, and platted thorns, and such like throwes Of inhuman'ty might 'gainst man prevaile, It was no wonder though his sp'rits did faile:

Of old, when Moses sent twelve men to try Canaans forces and fertility, Two of those twelve from Eschol did re-bring, As first fruits of faire Palestina's spring, Some pomgranats, some figs, and grapes; which, ty'd Unto a pole, and on their shoulders lay'd, They to the Camp of Israel did show, As pledges of that good Lands fruitfull flow, The man who walk'd before, did well resemble The sonnes of Sinay, who by weakne•• tremble Under th'imperiall Law's ov'rburth ning yoak, Which galls the necks of Isr'els fainting flock; He who did walk behind, is Sions child, His burthen's light, his yoak is undefil'd; His foot nor faints, nor shrinketh in his way, Till in his Camp his burthen down he lay; The burthen of rich grapes which 'twixt them hangs, Is Jesus Christ, from out whose cluster springs The Law and Gospell, in a golden cup, Making men drunk with faith, with love, with hope: But here before our eyes is truly set A reall emblem, and no counterfeit Proposed hieroglyphick, of that case Which all the faithfull doe in Christ embrace; My Saviour goes before, and willingly Takes up his Crosse, and bears it patiently, Till fainting by the way, he's forc'd to lend Unto an alien his Crosse lightest end.

Doe not we know what discrepance of old The name of Jew and Gentile did unfold? For whil'st unto the Lawes empire, the Jew Did both his heart and haughty neck subdue,

Rebellious Japhet wandring in his pride, Like to the wilde Asse turn'd his neck aside, But now by this sole crosse they're reconcil'd, And unto Japhets sonnes is how reveal'd The myst'ry of godsinesse in such store, That whil'st Christ, as a Jew, doth goe before, Cyrenes Gentile sweetly walks behinde, And in the Crosse doth consolation finde; That Jew and Gentile, bound and free, and all Who for salvation hunger, thirst, and call, May know, that by the crosse of Christ alone The way is opened to Salvation.

Thus hath he bore his crosse, it him must beare, He under it did grone, it him must reare, And he whose power the world doth underprop, Must by a cursed tree be now born up; This engine of the crosse was strange and rare, Appointed by the Romans, in their warre, For such as with a proud uplifted hand Their higher pow is injunctions did withstand, And for all such whose hand did foile or stain Their Temples, or their Idols did prophane; This Crosse along the ground is lay'd, and on It's torturing rack, and large dimension Of height, of bredth, and length, the glorious Christ Must be out stretch'd in every joynt and wrest, That as the heav'ns are high above our head, And as the East from Welt's distinguished, And Hels deep center is contriv'd below, So in his tort'ring Crucifix they show The program of their 〈◊〉〈◊〉 tyrrannie, And the great patience of his De••••••e.

Whil'st we poore men draw neer unto our death, We wish that Natures hand should stop our breath, We wish that paine and shame should not at tend, Nor prove the Lacquaies of our latter end; And last of all, we wish that our last stage Should have the blessing of Gods heritage: Of all those favours his Crosse's depriv'd, And all their contrairs stand on it subscrib'd;* 1.36 For violence doth curb dame Natures hands, And shame and torture at her right hand stands, And where a blessing should have said farewell, The cursed tree doth make that prop, to faile; All those beyond all humane trust doe run Against my Saviour with confusion: Never did fountain from its bubling spout So rich a runnall to the world send out, As did the Cinque ports of his bodies wound, While perforat he lay upon the ground; Never such shame did any man sustaine As he, yet never did he once complain; And last of all, what curse is like to that Where heav'n rejects him who's immaculat? Those, and all those, my Saviour beyond measure Hath tasted, at his glorious Fathers pleasore, That had not he been very God and Man He surely should have perish'd in his pang, But that great Godhead which in him did dwell, Upholds him still and makes him to prevaile: Thus to the Crosse he's nail'd, and with him two Base murth'ring malefactours in a row Were to their crosses also ty'd, that they By their just sufferings, in some fashion may

His innocence obscure, and make men think That he with them deserv'd like cup to drink; Yet so hath Isay prophecy'd before, And so it needs must come to passe; what's more, His Crosse must over head import his Theam, Jesus of Naz'reth, Juries King by Name, Whose foure acrostick letters doe imply This Hierogly prick stamp, J. N. R. J. O how those three accursed crosses now Stand in resemblance! that 'tis hard to know Who in the trespasse or transgression's chiefe, The Lamb, or Lyon, th' innocent, or thiefe? But heav'ns doe fully know it, for from thence Thrice hath he had applause and eminence; Earth know'th him also, for his divine power Hath many times to sweet exchang'd their soure; Devils of hell did also know'm, for loe, His own words pow'r their legion did ov'rthrow: So heav'n, and earth, and hell, and all must grant, 'Tis not the Crosse, but Cause that makes the Saint: O happy thrice, and thrice thrice happy tree! Though curs'd to some, yet art thou bless'd to me, For never man yet reap'd or could forth bring So bless'd a harvest from so curs'd a spring, As thou hast done, while death from thee did wrangle A blessed Quadrat from a curs'd Triangle.

Many sweet trees have grown up, since the first Adam did by a trees fruit quench his thirst, But never tree did any such fruit beare As on thy branches at this time appeare, Faire Edens figge tree lent her leaves to hide The first mans sinfull, stranefull outer side;

An Olive branch to Noah first display'd The Oceans rage was still'd and quite allay'd; Aarons poore rod had such a secret worth, That in one night it budded and brought forth Ripe Almonds; Moses rod did smite the rock, And living waters follow'd all the flock; A piece of wood is cast in Mara's spring, And sweeter draughts ne'er fountaine did forth bring; A woodden pole a serpent doth uphold, And who so by the Serpent's stung, makes bold To look upon it; straightway is made whole From all that poyson in his bones did role; But all of those compar'd with thee proves naught, No such a relish, no such sugger'd draught Can man bring from them, as is brought from thee, Immortall life from curs'd mortalitie; Yet doe not I or praise thy selfe, or ground Whereon thou standst, for better may be found, But blessed be the Gardners hand, for that Sweet bud he did in thee inoculat, For such a fruit as thine was never seen; The balme's blood-red, the virtue's alwayes green. Whil'st thus he stands, or hangs upon his crosse, Some woefull women did bewaile his losse, But thus he doth intreat them, Weep no more For me, you Daughters of Jerus'lem, for To waile my sufferings thus is alwaies vaine, Heav'ns have ordain'd it, I doe not complain; But if you weep, weep for those woes which shall Upon this perverse generation fall, For since the dayes of Noah till this houre, Yea, since fierce fire foule Sodome did devoure,

So deep a wrath, and such consuming fire Was never kindled in th' Almighties ire, Nor did his wrath burn ever halfe so hot Against a Nation for her Leprous spot, As shall against this Nation shortly burn, Till heav'ns high wrath their pride to ashes turn; But ô thou heav'nly and most gratious Father, Pardon their sinnes, forgive their trespasse, rather Then punish this their fault; for, Father, now I doe perceive some know not what they doe. Whil'st thus he hangs, and payes our bloody ransome, Hot in the conflict, like another Sampson, He cries, I thirst, straight doe they fill a cup With Wine and Myrrhe, to him they reach it up, He smelleth it, but would nor drink at all, For now he spies their mercy's mix'd with gall: This being done, his soule is sore perplex'd, And with his Fathers frowns, for us, so vex'd, That he is forc'd to cry to th'ears of many, O Eli, Eli, lamma Sabachthani! Which by interpretation is thus taken, My God, my God, why hast thou me forsaken? One saith he calls Eliah, stand aside, And let us see what Saint in heav'n can guide Him from this crosse, surely if any come, We will believe him, we will make him roome; Not onely doe those Burreaves him revile, And 'gainst that holy one lift up their heel; But also that proud mastive, who did at His left hand suffer, as he perpetrat, Calls to him, and in proud lu••ibrious manner Commands him to display his pow'rfull banner,

And as he had sav'd others, save him selfe, And him likewise from splitting on this shelfe; But Jesus holds his peace, to make it plaine That he revil'd, did not revile again; Though Jesus hold his peace, yet doth that mate Which on his right hand hung, thus ope the gate To his just ire, and rebukes his brother, He can his fury now no longer smother; Proud rayling rascall, saith he, we be here To suffer for our sinnes, as doth appeare By all the Legends of our murd'ring ditty, Justly doe men therefore withdraw their pitty From us; but this just man, what hath he done? His innocence is cleare, as middayes Sun; Why dost not thou feare God, and in this station Beg shelter from a deeper condemnation? But what thou wilt not doe, behold I will, Lord look upon me in thy mercy still, And when thou com'st unto thy kingdome, then Remember me in mercy, heale my pain; Jesus beholding this his faith, replies, Man, I doe tell thee, that in Paradise This night thou shalt be with me, and shalt taste The glorious Nectar of my Fathers feast:

Father, once more, all thing are finshed, Which thy great law requires; diminished Is nothing which her Sanctions did crave, And now I'm ready to be laid in grave, I therefore come to thee, Into thy hands I recommend my Sp'rit, let not deaths bands Triumph ore me, for it I vanquish'd have, Yet I'le subject my selfe unto the grave:

By this he bows his head, and giveth up The Ghost; and so hath drunken up his cup.

One of those Souldiers who did him attend, Hoping to gaine some honour in the end, Takes up his Speare to try if Christ were dead, And in his side doth thrust it over head: Straight, from the wound doth flow both blood and water, Whose still dissever'd streams themselves so scatter, As never Tigris and Euphrates did More th'one from th'other at their sourse divide; When the first Adam snorted in his sleep, Great Isr'els Watchman, who poore man doth keep, Took from his side a rib, of which he made An helpe unto the man, who was her head: And now the second Adam on his Crosse Lacks not a bone, but to repaire that losse From out his side, whereon his bride now stands, Sends forth pure water first to wash her hands, And that clean hands may have as clean a heart, He sends her blood to purge her better part, His water purgeth and refresheth more Then that which from Rephidims rock did rore; His blood speaks better things then Abels did, When she in Vesta's lap her head did hide; And truly, such a water, or such blood, Nor Baalzephom shoare, nor Ganges flood Did ever borrow from earths bubling vain, While as they pard their tribute to the Main.

Loe, how the sonne of God in human nature, Loe, how for Man poore creature, the Creatour, Loe, for the guilty, how the innocent, Loe, how the lowly, for the insolent

Suffers, payes, covers, satisfies at once Death, debt, shame, wrath, for our exemptions! Come wayward Gentile, come rebellious Jew, Come scoffing Atheist, Semichristian, thou Prodigious misbeliever, natures slave, Blasphemous mockers of the crosse and grave: Come, come, I say, and if you needs must scorn Those hands, those feet, this heart, that crown of thorn, From whence my Saviour in such sev'rall rills Celestiall Nectar to the world distills; If nothing here on earth, you see below, Can your hard hearts to his obedience bow, Look up above your head, and see what strange Commotions through th'heav'nly regions range, And from their troubles learn in time to tremble, Least those their palsies prove your deaths preamble; For whil'st his soule doth to the heav'ns ascend, Which to his Father, he did recommend, Straight with his last gaspe, earth's round globe doth shake, As if her engines axle-tree should breake; The broad enameld courtaine of the sky, Obfuscat with dark clouds, doth droup and dye; And since he whose right hand first formed Nature, Hath so much suffred for a sinfull creature, The frame of Nature now hath sworn to show That natures God hath suffred here below; Hence hoary Saturne turns his face awry, And scorns to gaze so great a butchery; The bounteous Jupiter now amazed stands, And scorns with Amalthaea to shake hands; Blood-thirsting Mars throws down his dart, and cries What Phlegra's this whose Typhon scales our skies?

The wanton now betakes her to her heels, And puls her Pidgeons from Apollo's wheels, The witty Merc'ry throws his pen aside, He cannot see to write for nights black pride, And Cynthia now beholding Titans Car Ecclipsed by a brighter morning star, Runs from th' Eoan, to th'Hesperian coast, And grapleth Titan in her arms so fast, That brave Latona's son nor can, nor may, But through her sad imbrace, take leave of day: Now is the Temples vaile rent quite in twaine, And Jew and Gentile reconcil'd againe; Now are the flint-hard rocks found cut asunder That mans hard heart might at it's hardnes wonder; Now are the graves devouring gates cast up, And long interred dust drinks new lives cup, That heav'ns, and earth, and hell, and all may see That power of th'Eternalls victorie, Whereby he hath, as both true God and Man, For man subbu'd Deaths great Leviathan.

The Triumph.

CANTO 6^o.

ERE Cairo's Monarch would let Isr'el goe From out the fornace of affliction, loe, The holy one of Israel, bigge with ire, Is forc'd in wrath to blow so fierce a fire

Against him, that a Decad of stern woes Must fall upon him, ere he melt his snowes, So deeply were they froze amidst his heart That nothing but deep wrath can him convert. Of all those plagues which did on Misraim fall, Me thinks the last save one was worst of all; For what are fields, or fruits, or brooks, or trees, In respect of mans gracious faculties? And life it selfe is small, being compar'd With utter darknesse, wherein man ensnar'd By living death and dark Cimerian mist, Of Goshens childe is made a Memphytist: Such were the foggy mists that now doe stand For three houres space through all Judaea's land, So that th'inhabitants doe gaze with wonder To see the sun obscured from his splendor: But Titan once more doth reclear his eye, And shuffling off his Sisters canopy, Doth joy to see his eldest brothers bed With such triumphing trophees honored.

Now whil'st the stern Centurion sees the damp That Christ his death hath wrought in Natures camp, He shrinks away for feare, and doth professe Surely this man hath been Gods sonne, no lesse, For who did ever see so firm and strong Expressions of Deitie, ev'n among Infirmities and weaknesse saddest strains, As now burst forth in Naturesbubling vains? By this, just Joseph, Arimathea's Lord, Hath beg'd of Pilat, by submissive word, That he Christs body might have pow'r to take Down from the Crosse, and in his grave to make

Him rest, who rest and peace had promised Unto all such as sought to him for ayde: Pilat yeelds to it; Joseph's quickly gone Through Salems streets and rich stor'd shops each one, And of pure balm and myrhs elixar'd Nard A hundred weight he buyes, and afterward Embalmes my Saviours body, and doth binde It in a Tyrian lawn, more dainty fin'd Than that which Venus putteth on the eyes Of Cupid, to obscure his leacheries; Then in his Garden corner, with all haste, In his new-digged tombe he hath it plac'd, And that the body there might rest secure, He puts a stone upon the Sepulture. 'Mongst many passions of the soule, by which Man doth his guilty minde surcharge too much, Whil'st he doth wander in that desert, where Nothing is reap'd in end but griefe and care, That pultrone Feare, for most part, leads the ring, Where Cruelty hath harp'd on Envies string, For nothing can secure that sordid mind Where wrath and malice are in one combin'd: Hence doth the High Priest and his rascall-train To Pilats hall return yet once again, And under colour of a wise prevention, Belch out the vomit of their foul intention: This fellow (say they) while he liv'd, did say, Pull down this Temple, and on the third day I will re-build it: Lest therefore by night Some steal him from his grave, and so affright The world with frantick tales of's resurrection, Let us walk wisely; and 'gainst this infection

Prepare an an tidote; for by such toyes The weaker may be led to great annoyes: Goe, goe, saith Pilus, doe what ere you list, Hath not his blood yet satisfi'd your thirst? 'Tis strange to see, that death cannot put end Unto that wrath which doth on rage depend; The very beasts that live by cruell pray, Drink blood, eat flesh, but cast the bones away.

But ay me! poor faint-hearted Muse, how long Wilt thou sigh forth his obsequies? whose wrong, Though all the Main were turn'd to teares and ink, Could not suffice to write them on her brink: Weep therefore, weep a space; and weeping, look Not like a runnall or a bubling brook, Whose proudest swellings we no sooner spy But straight they are exhaust, their channell's dry; But like the Ocean, whose unfathom'd deep Sends forth those restlesse streames which never sleep, For here thou hast the deepest, deep distresse That ever heart could think, or tongue expresse; The sonne of God, heav'ns master-peece, the bright Transplendent glory of th'Almighties light, Th'eternall Word, which was e're time began, In time, for man, made man, nay, not a man, A worm, a wretch, a servant, nay, a slave To calumny, contempt, to crosse, to grave! Yet peace my Muse, and let not griefe exile Thee from due comfort; let a blushing smile Comfort thee rather; for, those wounds which stands Imprinted in his heart, his feet, his hands, Make him (although despised and disdain'd To carnall eyes, where sinne and shame's maintain'd)

A pretious Victime, off red up for thee, To whom of due belong'd the cursed tree; Yea, he is that great star of Jacob, who Makes Japhet unto Shem's sweet tents to go, And bids the world write anthems of Rejoyces Because his grave makes ours a bed of Roses, Where though he for a season rest and sleep, Yet shall not earth him in her armes long keep, But, as the Sonne of God, he thence shall rise, And lead Captiv'ty captive through the skies, And thence ascending to his glorious throne Shall be our all in all, and all in One; For notwithstanding all that stamp and stirre Whereby his grave is sealed and made sure, Up, up again he shall, Gods holy one Can in the grave take no corruption, But by his Resurrection makes our faith Triumph the more ore sinne, ore hell, and death; The former times prefigur'd have this truth: Did he not save one from the Lions mouth? Was not another thrown amidst the Sea, And after three dayes set at libertie? Yea, were not three at one thrown in the fire, As vassals of a Tyrants proud desire, Yet by his pow'r so preserv'd, that the flame Did neither harm their haires, nor garments seame? Did not he by his mighty pow'r, ere now, Naims poor widowes sonne to life renew? When Lazarus had four dayes ly'n in grave, Did he not, by his word, his soule receive? When as the good Centurion's daughter lay Asleep, did he not turn her night to day?

When Eutichus did from his third loft fall, Did not his quickning sp'rit his sp'rit recall? And when Tabitha (jappa's Nymph) lay dead, Did not his [Cumi] straight lift up her head? Those, and a thousand more then those, doe stand As great Herculean trophces in his hand; Those were but shaddows, he the substance is, The type was theirs, the antitipe is his, And all of those beare witnesse that his power Can kill and quicken, rescue and devoure.

Now doth the date of that appointed time Wherein he should arise from Deaths dark clime, Draw neer, for from the sixt dayes afternoon, The Sabbaths whol day he did rest eft soon; The eight daies morn no sooner'gins to break, But loe the sonne of Righteousnes doth wake, And with a better light the world recleare, Then ever Titan brought t'our Hemispheare; And as that God who did the world create, Upon the sixt day did man animate, And on the seventh day, celebrate his rest, A type of our Eternall heavenly feast: So did my Soules most grarious Redeemer Crush on the sixt day my soules sad blasphemer; And on the seventh day resting in the grave, Did from Goliahs hand his Isr'el save; And rising on the eight dayes morne, hath made The womans heel to bruise the serpents head; This day of old had small or no respect, But now to heav'n it doth our hearts erect, And justly makes his Gods a ther the Sunne, VVho in th'Eccliptick of true light doth run,

This day more sacred should be kept then any, Because by it Salvation spirings to many, And therefore 〈…〉〈…〉 as farre, As Titan hath beyond 〈…〉〈…〉 sta••re•• For look how much our second birth is more Then our first birth, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is our Sabbath, for Upon the sixth day we had our Creation, But on this Sabbath, light, life, and salvation; And since upon this day, we from our fall With him have rise, it is Dominicall, And merits to be sign'd with ink that's red, Because his blood our debt hath can celled: Th'intended period of the time now come, The sonne of Jesse, Israels brid egroome Comes from his late bed-chamber, richly deckt With Majesty, with glory and respect, His wedding garments, robes, and rings are on, His griefes, his passions, and his woes are gone, His foes are fill'd with feare, amaze, and wonder, Like Latmos rent with heav'ns high ratling thunder; Seraphick Spirits bow before his face, Mortality to glory now gives place, And all the Children of his wedding Chamber Whose lips are Corrall, and whose locks are Amber, Whose eyes Carbuncles are in dark of night, Gladly doe now attend this mornings light, And from the grave they role away that stone Which Caiaphas had fet his seale upon; 'Twere strange to see, that was could make that sure That heav'ns had destin'd to distemp'tature! But now the Scriptures are fulfill'd; which say, He gives his Angels charge 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thy way

To keep thee, lest thy foot should either slip, Or'gainst a stone at any time should trip: Yet was it neither Angels might nor power That did return life to my Saviour, But that same Godhead which in him did dwell, Restor'd his life, and did his death expell; For, though his soule was from his body cut, His Godhead from his Man hood was not shut; For, that great tye of Hypostatick union Shall never be dissolv'd, or lose communion: No, no, Mans nature which he did assume, And unite to the Word i'th' Virgins wombe, Shall in no after time, or taste Confusion,* 1.37 Or by a stronger hand 'plain of Division, Or by a change smell any Alteration, Or by or death or life have Separation, But shall for ay that union retaine Where three are one, and one is three againe: No sooner doth my Soules brave Sampson draw Gaza's gate-barrs asunder, then his aw Maketh earths wieghty globe to reatch and reele About him, like Ixyons giddy wheele, The dead arise and to the Citty goe, As witnesse of his great triumphing show; The Lyons to their dens return apace, Because great Judah's Lyon shakes his tresse, And all the beasts of neighb'ring Forrests feare, Whilst they this matchlesse Lyon's roaring heare; The chirping birds, whose sweet melodious notes Bring sweeter crotchets from their carr'ling throats Then all Apollo's nymphs can straine or sing Unto his Harps delicious fingering,

Betake themselves unto their wings to flie, Rather then in an Earthquakes arms to die; The nibling Lambs which graze on Vesta's kirtle, And sips her hony, suckles, and her mirtle Leaving their breakfast, bleat, and cry, and call Each one to gaze anothers festivall; Great Neptune and his Thetye now sing dumbe, Because the Soveraign of the Seas is come To put a hooke in their nostrills, and draw Leucotheo from Achelous maw: But above all, the long-liv'd Phenix seems, As freshly wak'd from her reviving flames, To greet him with the rarest welcome that E're Lark, or Finch, or Linot modulat; And at his foot her starry Spangled Crown, As to the righteous owner, she throws down; For she reviv'd, hath thousand years in store, But he requickneth lives for evermore: In end comes Titan, dayes bright shining eye, Who lately slept in darknesse Cannopy, And from his Orient or Eoan wave, Where Neptune doth his steps in pearle engrave, Seeing a clearer Sun i'th' West arise To all his Naids and his Napaeis, cries Look here, and see the rare, yea rarest wonder That ever Earth held up, or Heav'ns kept under; Two Suns arise at once, and in one day Two Titans to the world their lights display; The one wherof, although he rise, must fall, The other knowes no Occident at all: Thus is my Saviour up, and mangre hell And all the pow'rs of darknesse there doe dwell,

A new light, life, and liberty is given To all that hunger for the light of Heaven; 'Tis true, no article o'th' Christian faith, More faithlesse or reluctant en'mies hath, Then hath the Doctrine of the Resurrection Whil'st it stands canvass'd by humane direction; Yea, nature ne'er requir'd a better sport Then tosse this Ball within her Tennis-court; For faith it selfe can hardly sound this deep, How a scatter'd non ens to an ens can creep, Although that Nature and the Scriptures both Have writ the hieroglyphicks of this truth; The Phoenix spicie nest her Mistris burneth, Yet she from out her fatall Urne returneth; When length of time sun-staring Eagles spills, They doe revive by casting off their bills; Hearbs, trees, and plants, which in the winter wither, I'th' spring receive both sap and life together; The Corn we sow doth first corrupt and die, Yet from that death their grains doe multiply; And if't be true, Medaea for the sake Of Jason, made old Aesons youth t' awake: But Scripture tells us, that the first man hath By sinne subdu'd all mankinde unto death, And that the second man doth yeeld more grace, Requickning that which dy'd by our trespasse; And unto Abram's seed the Lord hath said, I am the livings God, and not the dead; Adde unto this, that he who first did make All things of nothing, can from something take With lesser pain, this little world of Man, Then when at first he from the dust it span,

Nor is it just, that any coupled paire Who work together, should not have like share Of glory after death, who in their life 'Gainst Sin and Sathan kept a conjunct strife: Why art thou then so sad my Soule? and why Art thou cast down with such anxiety? Dost not thou know that Christ is made thy head, And thou by faith his living member made; He is thy husband, thou his wedded wife, Whil'st he doth live, how canst thou doubt of life? He is the root, and thou his ingraft-branch, When thou art judg'd, he sitteth on the bench; He is our Main, which by our faith's hid pores Refreshing waters to our springs restores, And till his never ebbing streams goe dry We need not fear to lack a new supply; Naked from out our mothers wombe we come, And thither naked must we once goe home, Yet we believe earth shall not still enfold Us in her arms, that were too base a hold For any, in whose soule the sp'rit of grace Hath made his mansion or a dwelling place: No sure, suppose these putrid tents of clay Wherein we sojourn for a night or day, Must be dissolved, better buildings we In heav'n shall have: For Immortalitie Shall this our Mortall swallow and devoure Our weaknes then shall be exchang'd to power, Corruption shall to incorruption turne, And, shame shak'd off, we shall no longer mourn; For what by Nature we doe here inherit, Shall there renew'd be by th'Eternals Sp'rit:

Though then the grave, unto weak natures taste, Relish no better then the hemlocks feast, Yet from her arms we reap a richer store Then ever nature did possesse before; For there the poore have peace from their oppression, There earths horsleeches shrink from their possession, There rich and poore, the high, the low, and all To earthly tempest ly no more made thrall, But waiting for the return of their Judge, In secret, for a while, lye still and lodge; Since then I know that my Redeemer liveth, And that he shall perform what faith believeth, In all the periods of my lifes poore date I for my last and glorious change shall waite, For He who was dead, is alive, and shall To me be Alpha and Omega, All.

The Trophee.

CANTO 7^o.

CHrist had not come from heav'n to earth, but that He might our dying soules re-animat; He had not liv'd on earth so long, to try Cares, watches, griefes, reproaches, misery. Had he not meant to write us an example In patience upon their necks to trample; Nor had he took our flesh, if not to die, That by his suff'rings he might satisfie

The wrath of God due unto mans offence, And reconcile that sin-bred difference; Nor had he dy'd, were't not to rise again And reunite us to our Soveraigne; Nor did he rise, but that he might ascend, And so bring our Redemptions to an end; Thus was he born, thus did he live, and thus He hath both dy'd and rose againe for us, That our new birth, new life, and new death may By him be turn'd to an eternall day: Now if that any ask, who shall perswade VVeake man, that he such mighty power had? The trembling earth, the darkned sunne, the grave, The quickned dead, the rent vaile, and that slave VVhich in earths centers dwels, can all declare The Virgins sonne, and eke th' Almighties heire, True God and Man, earths Monarch, heav'ns great King Did those stupendious works t' effect forth bring: But if sublunar things subject to errour Can neither work our joy, nor strike with terrour Our hardned hearts, let glorious Angels then Serve to extirpate misbeliefe from men, For they did by their presence shake those fooles, VVho by their spears, and staves, and murth'ring tools Sought to detaine the Lord of Life i'th' grave; Let all such guardians such reward still have: Then to some weaker women, whose true care And love to life had quickly brought them there, They furnish matter of true consolation, Declaring his true life, whose death and passion Had but of late their soule so pierc'd with woe, That naturall comfort could not cure their blow.

Such as our conscience is, or good or bad, Accordingly we are rejoyc'd or sad: When God to us his countenance doth show Or in a cheerfull smile, or frowning aw, The righteous Man is like the Lyon bold, The wicked shrink for feare within their hold, And one day, when their joyes away shall fly, Then shall they shrink and feare eternally.

One woman there was of a speciall note, The Magdalen of late known by her spot, But now, by penitentiall tears made clean, She greater grace and favour doth obtain; For he whodwelleth in the heav'ns, doth weigh The hearts of men in scales of Veritie, And looks not on our outward carnall things, But on that treasure which the heart forth brings: To this poore woman then they first doe talk, And with her in the way of comfort walk, That she who sometime was a sinner, might To after-sinners shew the wondrous hight, The depth, the length, and breadth of mercy, that Unto the penitent's accumulat; For God doth not take heed to what we were, But unto what we by adoption are; For still his mercies supr'abound, and more Where sinnes abundant plenty dwelt before, If he can see our tears our cheeks distaine, And bubble up from true repentance vaine.

Some eight dayes hence, this Nymph began to weep And make her tears bedew her Masters feet, Her eyes as yet have not shut up their sluces, So deep's the memoyr of her youths abuses,

And eke so fresh the relish of his smart, Who spent his blood to purge her sinfull heart, That she cannot her throbbing sighs restrain, Nor from her restlesse seas of teares refraine, But when sh'ath weep'd enough, she still weeps more, And 'gainst her sorrowes cannot shut the doore: VVhil'st thus she weeps, she turnes unto her stay, And bowing down, beholds where Jesus lay, And loe, two Angels there doe sit; the one VVhere Jesus head did lye and rest; anon Another she espies there where his feet Had their impression in the hard rock set; They see the woman weep, and thus enquire, VVoman, why weep'st thou? what dost thou desire? She answers, Sure I weep not without cause, For here of late in deaths devouring jawes My Lord did lye; but now alas he's gone, And none can tell me whither, no, not one: They thus reply; what foole art thou to seek The living 'mongst the dead? did he not speak, And preach to you, last day, in Galile, The sonne of man must suffer, and third day Rise up again; he is not here, goe, goe, Tell his Disciples that he's rise: But loe, VVhil'st thus they parley, Jesus comes, and still Rebukes her for her mis-informed will; VVoman, saith he, woman, what dost thou mean? VVhat, wilt thou never from thy teares abstain? She takes him for the Gardner, and saith, Sir, If you have took him hence, pray let me heare VVhere you have layd him? and be sure, from thence I will re-bring him, at what-ere expence:

To those fond words my Saviour saith, But Mary? She answers him, Rabboni; Without tary Falls down before his feet to kisse them; but He to that fond affection yeeldeth not: O doe not touch me, Mary, saith he, for I am not yet ascended: but what's more Expedient for the world, goe quickly tell My weak Disciples, that the gates of hell Which gap'd against me, now have no more pow'r To hedge me in, for I have broke their door, And to my members doe propine Lifes cup, That they may dine with me, I with them sup. O what a masse or magazen is here Of pretious comfort, by a Gardiner Breath'd to a woman! O what large extent Of pardon's sealed to a Peniten•••• For whil'st I see her thus so sadly weep, And him comfort her 'gainst her griefs, I keep In minde that Program which of late he told, Blessed are they who mourn; for loe, behold They shall reap comfort: and thrice blessed they Who ask, seek, knock; for verily I say They shall receive, and finde, and enter, for To such my Father doth not shut his door. Next this, whil'st I behold the great mistake Wherein her true affection, although weake, Made her believe, a Gardner she had seen, I doe impute it to her tear-drown'd eyn, I cannot choose but make my soule to smile At this so happy fraud and sweet beguile, For never man did (to my weak esteem) Give him a fitter stile, or truer name,

For where did ever garden, in the stower Of stormy rage, produce so sweet a flower? Or where did ever Gardner plant or frame So rich an imp in such a withring stem? Did he not first in Paradise re-plant The promis'd Primrose of the Covenant? In Baal-haman graft'd he not that Vine About the which the Saints their armes doe twine? Is not he Sharons Rose, the Valleyes Lilly, Engeddies Camphire, Bethleems Daffadilly, Gethsemans Gilly-flow'r, and Golgaths Rheu, And Arimathea's Turn-sol, ever true? It is not then a great mistake to call Him Gardner, who makes those to rise and fall: O glorious Gardner! whose right hand doth plant The rut'lant starres amidst the Firmament, Who pav'st the Ocean with thy orient gem, Plant in my soule thy Artimesian stem, And, like the lotos in Euphrates bosome, Be thou the Sun that still re-clears my blossome.

But ay me! what is this I now doe heare Thee say to Mary? Mary, come not neare, And touch me not: Art thou that fi'ry bush Which made old Moses stand afar? no, tush, The flames and threats of Sinay now are gone, And thou art made our very flesh and bone; Yea, thou hast bid us touch, and taste, and feele How good thou art to Isr'els Common-weale; And yet, as if thou wouldst some distance try, Thou stopp'st our wonted famil'arity: It is not long since thou endur'dst a touch, Which justly tearmed might have been, Non-such;

A Traitor kissed thee, a Rascall knave Did with his buffet and his spit out-brave Thy glorious face; thy head was crown'd with thorns, Thy hands and feet were pierc'd, and with proud scorns Of thy unlook'd for death, a speare did part The water and the blood from out thy heart: Those touches thou endur'dst; but, ay me▪ now Thou call'st for distance; but I know not how It can subsist with thy unchanged love, To change a sweet imbracet'a sad remove: But pardon me, my God, for now I finde That too much love hath made her judgment blinde, For since she saw thee put in porta mortis, Her eyes have still been drown'd in aqua fortis, And in her rapture, whil'st she cryes Rabboni, She turnes her Benjamini to Benoni; For though thou still be what thou wast before, True God and Man, yet art thou now some more Then man and mortall, but immortall, now Kodesh laihova is writ on thy brow. The Ʋrim and the Thummim on thy breast Tels, Aaron's dead, and Melchisedeck ••s Priest; And since true life hath triumph over death, Now must we live no more by sense, but faith; And by the spirit, not the flesh, must we Now seek our God, and his felicitie.

Some eight dayes hence Christs Disciples meet, And in a private chamber closely sit, The doores being shut, Christ Jesus commeth in, And greets them with his 〈◊〉〈◊〉; then doth begin To rouz their 〈…〉〈…〉 Soulles from ••eare to ••aith Which o•• salva••ion 〈…〉〈…〉 promise hath,

To waken Thomas from his misbeliefe, For lack of faith 'mongst many sins is chiefe; Thomas, saith he, thou hast of late deny'd To trust my Resurrection, till my side, My hands, my feet, and all my wounds doe give Thee (by thy touch) true reason to believe; I pitty this thy weaknes, for I know The sourse and fountain whence this stream doth flow Is not proud malice, but infirmitie, The sp'rit speaks faith, flesh infidelitie, Tis true, that when those wounds I did receive, And from my Crosse was carried to my grave, Thou didst not see me, for thou rann'st away When Judas by his kisse did me betray, But now thou art return'd, and so am I, Thou from thy fears, I from mortality, And since I see, upon thy fingers end Thy faith and resolution doth depend, Come, come, thy touch not only shall be fed, But als' thy other senses satisfied; Come, come, I say, behold those wounds of mine And let not misbeliefe 'gainst faith repine, Reach here thy fingers, boldly touch my hands, Touch those my feet, see how my side yet stands Wide open with those wounds which did of late My harmlesse body cru'ly penetrate; And be not thou a faith lesse Did'mus more, But make true faith ov'rflow thy hard hearts shore: Thomas no sooner doth stretch out his fingers To touch Christs side, when loe, from off her hingers Christ pulls his heart, which then was hard as stone, And with the touch of true contrition

Makes him bewaile his infidel'ty more Then he was bent to harden it before: O now I finde, saith he, and cryes aloud, Thou art the Christ, my very Lord, my God. O happy Thomas! what a happy change Is this, which now doth in thy bosome range? Of late thou saidst, Unlesse I surely see The stamps of death in his mortalitie, I will not trust (what ever can be sed,) That he from death can be recovered: But now behold, what nature could not see, Faith doth perceive; behold, that Mustard tree Of faith, in thee hath been most shrewdly shaken, Yet from the root it hath not quite been taken: O what a forcelesse force of heav'ns high thought This alteration in thy brest hath wrought! For one thing thou didst see, believe another, And this made Faith and Nature joyn together; One thing thy eyes did see, that he was Man, Thy heart believes him God, 'tis more than can By natures rules, or documents of art Couch in thy conscience, or confirm thy heart; But ô the power of the Almighty, who Unto the weak joyns grace and nature so, That what weak nature cannot work for want Of strength, grace there doth furnish supplement, And though that faith doth build her house on that Which to the nat'rall eye's unseen, yet what May help weak nature and procure her strength She doth amasse together, and at length From both their Magazens draws forth that store Of grace, which Sathan can deface no more.

Thrice happy Thomas, who didst thus believe Because thou saw'st: but, if that God shall give The grace to such as never saw, to trust, Thrice happy they, their faith shall make them just; For when they by the heav'ns great power shall Arise to make their last Judiciall- Account, their unseen faith shall make them see Death hath no sting, Grave hath no vietorie. Thus standeth Thomas to the faith converted, From him a hard heart by a touch is parted: Christ to the rest of those his brethren saith, Brethren, these times require much strength of faith, Harken therefore to what I to you say: 'Tis long since I first said, I goe my way, And you were heavy that I so should speak, For then your faith was wav'ring, faint, and weak; But now your eares have heard, youe eyes have seen What I have suffred, yet my wounds be green; Gird up your loynes therefore, henceforth be strong, For he who wrongeth you, to me doth wrong, And whoso harmeth you, he harmeth me; I love you, as the apple of mine eye, Yet must not I alwayes on earth remain, I to my Father must return again, And to your Father; to my God I goe, And to your holy one, and God also; My God is your God, and my Father's yours, The gates of hell, and all their darkned powr's Shall not be able 'gainst you to prevaile, My Scepter and my Rod their strength shall quaile. Full forty times brave Titan now hath run About the world, and stay'd where he begun;

Full forty dayes hath he, yea, each day once Saluted and adieu'd both Horizons; Full forty times hath Pha'ton's Chariots wheel Bid Flora both good morrow, and farewell: Now, now 'tis time that Jesus should goe hence, T'enjoy the throne of his magnificence; Not like Duke Joshuah's Sun, which did not set Till he proud Am••lecks forces did defeat; Nor like to Hezekiah's Sun, whose rayes Went back on Aha's dyall ten degrees; No, no, this Sun in Gibeah must not stand, His foes are foyl'd already by his hand; Nor will he now turn back on Aha's dyall, To give us of our health a second tryall; But like his Grandsire, David's Sun, he now Come from his late bed-chamber, needs-must bow The heav'ns, and all their vaulted arches, that He may regain his first Magnificat, Unto the mount of Olives out goes he, And with him his Disciples, foure times three Save one; and many others of both sexes He with his poor Disciples intermixes: There doth he pause a little, and anon To him his Schollers move this question; Master, say they; 'tis long since we expected T'have seen Judaea's kingdome re-erected: But still our expectation hath been vain, Our hoped freedome we cannot obtain, Wilt thou at this time that our state restore, Once let us know, and we enquire no more? Poore, weak, and wayward Orphans, he replies, 'Tis not for you to know the mysteries

Of times and Seasons, which my Father yet In his unclasped Kalendar keeps knit; But what's more fitting for you I reveale, Goe back to Jerusalem there stay still, And I to you the Comforter shall send, Who shall you govern unto the worlds end; For as my Father sent me, I send you, O that his grace your soules may so endue, That your sweet savour, wheresoe're you goe May like the Balme of Gilead still flow, And by your preaching my poore Gospell may Celestiall glory to the world display: Then stretching out his hands, he doth them blisse, And greets them with this sweet Cignaean kisse; O great, ô holy, ô righteous, ô all-seeing Father, in whom we live and have our being, Now come I to thee, where I was before The earth had limits, or the sea had shore, For thou and I are one, thou art in me, And from Eternity I was in thee, One glory with thy coeternall Spirit Did thou and I before all time inherit; We all are one, that one is blessed three, A blessed Union of bless'd Trinitie; I pray thee, and I know thou dost me heare, Keep those thy servants hearts in thy true feare, Thy word is truth, and truth is in thy word, Besides thy word, nothing can truth afford; Sathan did lye against us at the first, And by his lye, hath made mans soule to thirst After a lying vanity, but I Have come from thee, by truth to edifie

Their ruin'd soules, and make thy truth again Repaire thy image in their hearts hid plain, The world shall hate them for thy truth, ô then Strengthen their hearts against the threats of men, That in true wisdome they may boldly tell When I am gone, that I Immanuel Th' Eternall word, yea, thy Eternall sonne, Being flesh of their flesh, bone of their bone, Have in the flesh, by my sad suff'rings, payd What e're was due to sinne, and so allay'd The fury of thy wrath, unto all such As by true faith my garments hem shall touch; Give grace also unto that word which they Shall in my name or Preach or Prophecy, That in their hearers hearts it may take root, And in convenient time bring forth good fruit, That so good works and faith their soules may cure, And they may of Salvation be made sure. This said, he with a sweet and deere imbrace Joyns hand to hand, his face unto their face, And breathing on them, bids them all farewell Till he return their glory to reveale: He by a bright oreshading cloud is straight Heav'd up, and taken quite out of their sight; Thus doth a shining cloud to heav'n up-cary The Sonne of God born of the Virgin Mary, On whom while as the people fix their eyes Two glorious Angels from heav'ns Senat flyes, And standing by them, with a sweet impire Thus doe correct their vain and vast desire, You men of Galile, why stand you here Groping at noon-day in your Hemisphere?

This very Jesus whom you now behold Within a clouds bright cannopy enrol'd, Shall from the heav'ns in this same manner come To give the world her last and righteous doom, Thousands, yea, thousand thousands Angels than Shall shout before the glorious Sonne of man; Upon the Cherubs and the Seraphs hee Shall ride, and on the windes swift wings shall flee; He shall no rapture, nor no whirl-winde crave To raise his Saints from out their snorting grave, But, as the worlds great owner, he shall make The Earths foundation like a whirl-gig quake, The Sun shall lose his light, the Moon her Ore, The starres shall fall from heav'n, the Sea shall rore, And every soule that hah or breath or sense Shall stand before his great Omnipotence; For He, the righteous Judge, to them shall render (Both to th'Apostate, and the faithfull stander) Due retribution of what they have wrought In publick word and deed, or private thought: But since nor Man, nor Angell knowes that houre, Let all flesh labour their peace to procure, Yea, let them watch and pray, and still take heed, Lest while they think to live, they prove not dead. Here, with this Cloud in which He did ascend, I wrap my Raptures, and my Verse shall end.

Here ends MELPOMENE, or, the third Week

Gloria Patri, & Filio, & Spiritui Sancto.

FINIS.

Notes

• * 1.1

  L. & S.
• * 1.2

  D. B.
• * 1.3

  J. S.
• * 1.4

  Zachary.
• * 1.5

  Ebion.
• * 1.6

  Marcion.
• * 1.7

  Eu••iches.
• * 1.8

  Nestor.
• * 1.9

  Esay 7.14.
• * 1.10

  Isa. 7.14. Isa. 11.10. Gen. 49.9. Gen. 49.23.
• * 1.11

  Cant. 5.3.
• * 1.12

  Mich. 5.2.
• * 1.13

  2 Sam. 23.
• * 1.14

  Heb. 13.8. Rev. 3.8.
• * 1.15

  Deut. 10.16.
• * 1.16

  Exod. 4. Hosea 11.
• * 1.17

  Jer. 30.5.
• * 1.18

  Jer. 30.5.
• * 1.19

  Jer. 31.15.
• * 1.20

  I. ••.
• * 1.21

  Ambros. in Luc. c. 3.
• * 1.22

  1 Cor. 1.21.
• * 1.23

  R.
• * 1.24

  Psal. 81.
• * 1.25

  R.
• * 1.26

  Deut. 6.16
• * 1.27

  R.
• * 1.28

  Esay 61.1.
• * 1.29

  Qui fecit te sine te, non servat te sine te.
• * 1.30

  Chrysostom.
• * 1.31

  Hieronim.
• * 1.32

  Remigius.
• * 1.33

  Hilarius.
• * 1.34

  Lev. 21.••••.
• * 1.35

  A 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. D 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. A 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. M 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• * 1.36

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
• * 1.37

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.