I
Canticles 5 8
I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that you tell him that I am sick of love.
1.
Y O u holy Virgins, that so oft surround
The eltie's Saphire walls; whose snowy feet
Measure the pearly paths of sacred ground,
And trace the new Jerus'lem's Jasper street;
Ah, you whose care-forsaken hearts are crown'd
With your best wishes; that enjoy the sweet
Of all your hopes: If e'r you chance to spie
My absent Love, O tell him that I lie
Deep-wounded with the flames that furnac'd from his eye.
2.
I charge you Virgins, as you hope to heare
The heav'nly musick of your Lover's voice:
I charge you by the solemne faith ye bear
To plighted vows, and to that loyall choice
Of your affections, or, if ought more dear
You hold: by Hymen, by your marriage-joyes
I charge you tell him, that a flaming dart,
Shot from his eye, hath pierc'd my bleeding heart:
And I am sick of love, and languish in my smart
3.
Tell him, O tell him, how my panting breast
Is scorch'd with flames, and how my soul is pin'd;
Tell him, O tell him, how I lle opprest
With the full torments of a troubled mind;
O tell him tell him that he loves in jest,
But I in carnest: tell him, he 's unkind:
But if a discontented frown appears
Upon his angry brow, accoast his ears
With soft and fewer words and act the rest in tears
4.
O tell him, that his cruelties deprive
My soul of peace, while peaco in vain she seeks;
Tell him those damask roses, that did strive
With white both fade upon my sallow cheeks;
Tell him, no token doth proclaim I live,
But tears, and sighs, and sobs, and sudden shrieks:
Thus if your piercing words should chance to bore
His hearkning car, and move a sigh, give ore
To speak; and tell him — Tell him that I could no more
5.
If your elegious breath should hap to rouzo
A happy tear, close-harb'ring in his eye:
Then urge his plighted faith, the sacred vows
Which neither I can break, nor he deny:
Bewail the torments of his loyall spouse
That for his sake would make a sport to die:
O blessed Virgins, how my passion tires
Beneath the burden of her fond desires!
Heav'n never shot such flames, earth never felt such fires.
S A UGUST . Med. cap. 40.
What shall I say? What shall I do? Whither shall I go? Where shall I seek him? Or when shall I find him? Whom shall I ask? Who will tell my beloved that I am sick of love?
G ULIET in cap. 5. Cant.
I live, but not I: it is my beloved that liveth in me: I love my self, not with my own love, but with the love of my beloved that loveth me: I love not my self in my self but my self in him and him in me
E PIG . 1.
Grieve not (my soul) nor let thy love wax faint,
Weep'st thou to lose the cause of thy complaint?
He'll come; Love ne'r was bound to times nor laws
Till then thy tears complain without a cause.
II
Canticles 2. 5.
Stay me with flowers, and comfort me with apples for I am sick with love
1.
O T yrant love! how doth thy sov'reigne pow'r
Subject poore souls to thy imperious thrall!
They say, thy cup 's compos'd of sweet and sowre;
They say thy diet's honey mixt with gall;
How comes it then to passe, these lips of our
Still trade in bitter: tast no sweet at all?
O tyrant love! Shall our perpetuall toil
Ne'r find a Sabbath, to refresh awhile
Our drooping souls? Art thou all frowns, and ne'r a smile?
2.
You blessed Maids of honour that frequent
The royall courts of our renown'd Jehove;
With flow'rs restore my spirits faint and spent,
O fetch me apples from Love's fruitfull grove
To cool my palate, and renew my sent:
For I am sick, for I am sick of love:
These will revive my dry, my wasted pow'rs,
And they will sweeten my unsav'ry houres:
Refresh me then with fruit and comfort me with flow'rs.
3.
O bring me apples to asswage that fire.
Which Ætna-like inflames my flaming breast:
Nor is it every apple I desire,
Nor that which pleases every palate best:
I is not the lasting Deuzan I require,
Nor yet the red-cheek'd Queening I request;
Nor that which first beshrewd the name of wife
Nor that whose beauty caus'd the golden strife:
No, no, bring me an apple from the tree of life
4.
Virgins tuck up your silken laps, and fill ye
With the fair wealth of Flora's Magazine;
The purple violet and the pale-fac'd lilly:
The pancy and the organ colombine:
The flowring thyme, the guilt-boul daffadilly:
The lowly pink the lofty eglentine:
The blushing rose, the queen of flowers and best
Of Flora's beauty: but above the rest,
Let Jesse's sovereigne flower perfume my qualming breast
5.
Haste, Virgins, haste, for I lie weak and faint,
Beneath the pangs of love: why stand ye mute
As if your silence neither car'd to grant,
Nor yet your language to deny my suit?
No key can lock the doore of my complaint,
Untill I smell this flower or tast that fruit;
Go, Virgins, seek this tree, and search that bower:
O, how my soul shall blesse that happy houre,
That brings to me such fruit that brings me such a flower.
G ISTEN . in cap. 2. Cant. Expos. 3.
O happy sicknesse, where the infirmitie is not to death, but to life, that God may be glorified by it! O happy fever, that procedeth not from a consuming, but a calcining fire! O happy distemper, wherein she soul relishes no earthly things but onely savoureth divine nourishment!
S. B ERN . Serm 51 in Cant.
By flowers understand faith: by fruit, good works. As the flower or blossome is before the fruit, so is faith before good works: So neither is the fruit without the flower, nor good works without faith.
E PIG . 2.
Why apples, O my soul? Can they remove
The pangs of grief, or ease the flames of love?
It was that fruit which gave the first offence:
That sent him hither: that remov'd him hence.
III
C ANTICIES 2 16
My beloved is mine, and I am his, He feedeth among the lillies
1.
E V 'n like two little bank-dividing brooks,
That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams
And having rang'd and search'd a thousand nooks,
Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames,
Where in a greater current they conjoyn:
So I my best-beloved's am; so he is mine.
2.
Ev'n so we met; and after long pursuit,
Ev'n so we joyn'd: we both became entire:
No need for either to renew a suit.
For I was flax and he was flames of fire:
Our firm-united souls did more then twine;
So I my best beloved's am: so he is mine.
3.
If all those glitt'ring Monarchs that command
The servile quarters of this earthly ball,
Should tender, in exchange, their shares of land,
I would not change my fortunes for them all:
Their wealth is but a counter to my coin:
The world's but theirs: but my beloved 's mine.
4.
Nay more; If the fair Thesplan Ladies all
Should heap together their diviner treasure:
That treasure should be deem'd a price too small
To buy a minute's lease of half my pleasure
'T is not the sacred wealth of all the nine
Can buy my heart from him, or his, from being mine
5.
Nor Time, nor Place, nor Chance, nor Death can bow
My least desires unto the least remove:
He 's firmly mine by oath; This by vow:
He 's mine by faith; and I am his by love;
He 's mine by water; I am his by wine;
Thus I my best-beloved's am; thus he is mine.
6.
Ho is my Altar: I his Holy Place;
I am his guest; and ho my living food;
I 'm his by penitence: he mine by grace;
I'm his by purchase; he is mine, by bloud;
He 's my supporting elm; and I his vine;
Thus I my best beloved's am; thus he is mine
7.
He gives me wealth, I give him all my vows:
I give him songs; he gives me length of dayes:
With wreaths of grace he crowns my conqu'ring brows:
And I his Temples with a crown of Praise:
Which he accepts as an ev'rlasting signe,
That I my best-beloved's am; that he is mine.
S. A UGUST Manu. cap. 24.
O my soul stampt with the image of thy God; love him of whom thou art so much beloved: bend to him that boweth to thee, seek him that seeketh thee. Love thy lover, by whose love thou art prevented being the cause of thy love: Be carefull with those that are carefull, want with those that want; be clean with the clean, and holy with the holy; choose this friend above all friends who when all are taken away remaineth onely faithfull to thee; In the day of thy buriall, when all leave thee, he will not deceive thee, but defend thee from the roaring Lions prepared for their prey
E PIG . 3.
Sing, Hymen, to my soul; What? lost and found?
Welcom'd, espous'd, enjoy'd so soon, and crown'd!
He did but climb the Crosse, and then came down
To th' gates of hell; triumph'd, and fetch'd a Crown.
IV
Canticles 7. 10.
I am my Beloved's, and his desire is towards me
1.
L I ke to the Artick needle, that doth guide
The wand'ring shade by his Magnetick pow'r
And leaves his silken Gnomon to decide
The question of the controverted houre;
First franticks up and down, from side to side,
And restlesso beats his crystall'd Iv'ry case
With vain impatience; jets from place to place
And seeks the bosome of his frozen bride;
At length he slacks his motion, and doth rest
His trembling point at his bright Pole's beloved brest
2.
Ev'n so my soul, being hurried here and there
By ev'ry object that presents delight:
Fain would be settled, but she knowes not where;
She likes at morning what she loaths at night;
She bowes to honour; then she lends an eare
To that sweet swan-like voyce of dying pleasure
Then tumbles in the scatter'd heaps of treasure;
Now flatter'd with false hope; now foyl'd with fear:
Thus finding all the world's delights to be
But empty toyes, good God she points alone to thee
3.
But hath the virtued steel a power to move?
Or can the untouch'd needle point aright?
Or can my wandring thoughts forbear to rove
Unguided by the virtue of thy spirit?
O hath my leaden soul the art t' improve
Her wasted talent, and unrais'd, aspire
In this sad moulting-time of her desire?
Not first belov'd have I the power to love?
I cannot stirre, but as thou please to move me
Nor can my heart return thee love untill thou love me.
4.
The still Commandresse of the silent night
Borrows her beams from her bright brother's eye;
His fair aspect filles her sharp horns with light;
If he withdraw, her flames are quench'd and die:
Even so the beams of thy enlightning spirit
Infus'd and shot into my dark desire.
Inflame my thoughts, and fill my soul with fire
That I am ravisht with a new delight:
But if thou shroud thy face, my glory fades,
And I remain a Nothing , all compos'd of shades.
5.
Eternall God, O thou that onely art
The sacred Fountain of eternall light,
And blessed Loadstone of my better part;
O thou my heart's desire my soul's delight
Reflect upon my soul, and touch my heart,
And then my heart shall prize no good above thee;
And then my soul shall know thee; knowing love thee;
And then my trembling thoughts shall never start
From thy commands, or swerve the least degree
Or once presume to move but as they move in thee.
S. A UGUST . Med. cap. 25.
If Man can love man with so entire affection, that the one can scarce brook the other's absence; If a bride can be joyned to her bride-groom with so great an ardency of mind, that for the extremitie of love she can enjoy no rest, not suffering his absence without great anxiety; with what affection, with what fervency ought the soul whom thou hast espoused by faith and compassion to love thee her true God and glorious bridegroom?
E PIG . 4.
My soul, thy love is dear; 'Twas thought a good
And easie pen'worth of thy Saviour's bloud:
But be not proud; All matters rightly scann'd,
'Twas over-bought: 'Twas sold at second hand
V
C ANTICIES 5 6.
My Soul melted whilst my Beloved spake.
L O rd, has the feeble voyce of flesh and bloud
The pow'r to work thine ears into a floud
Of melted mercy? or the strength t' unlock
The gates of Heav'n, and to dissolve a rock
Of marble clouds into a morning show'r?
Or hath tho breath of whining dust the pow'r
To stop, or snatch a falling thunderbolt
From thy fierce hand, and make thy hand revolt
From resolute confusion, and in stead
Of vyals, poure full blessings-on our head?
Or shall the wants of famisht ravens cry,
And move thy mercy to a quick supply?
Or shall the silcot suits of drooping flow'rs
Woo thee for drops, and be refresh'd with show'rs?
Alas, what marvel then, great God, what wonder
If thy hell-rouzing voice, that splits in sunder
The brazen portals of eternall death;
What wonder, if that life-restoring breath
Which dragg'd me from th' infernall shades of night
Should melt my ravisht soul with ore-delight?
O can my frozen gutters chooso but run,
That feel the warmth of such a glorious Sun?
Me thinks his language, like a flaming arrow,
Doth pierce my bones, and melts their wounded marrow;
Thy flames, O Cupid (though the joyfull heart
Feels neither tang of grief, nor fears the smart
Of jealous doubts, but drunk with full desires)
Are torments weigh'd with these colestiall fires;
Pleasures that ravish in so high a measure
That O I languish in excesse of pleasure:
What ravisht heart, that feels these melting joyes,
Would not despise and loath the treach'rous toyes
Of dunghill carth? what soul would not be proud
Of wry-mouth'd scorns, the worst that flesh and bloud
Had rancour to devise? Who would not bear
The world's derision with a thankfull eare?
What palat would refuse full bowls of spight
To gain a minute's tast of such delight?
Great spring of light, in whom there is no shade
But what my interposed sinnes have made;
Whose marrow-melting fires admit no screen
But what my own-rebellions put between
Their precious flames, and my obdurate eare;
Disperse these plague-distilling clouds, and clear
My mungy soul into a glorious day;
Transplant this screen, remove this barre away
Then, then my fluent soul shall feel the fires
Of thy sweet voyce, and my dissolv'd desires
Shall turn a sov'reigne balsame, to make whole
Those wounds my sinnes inflicted on thy soul.
S. A UGUST , Soliloq, cap. 34.
What fire is this that so warmeth my heart! What light is this that so enlightneth my soul! O fire that alwayes burnest, and never goest out kindle me: O light, which ever-shinest, and art never darkned, illuminate me: O that I had my heat from thee, most holy fire! How sweetly dost thou burn! How secretly dost thou shine! How desiderably dost thou inflame me!
B ONAVENT' Stim. Amoris, cap. 8.
It maketh God man, and man God, things temporall, eternall; mortall immortall; it maketh an enemy a friend' a servant, a sonne; vile things, glorious-cold hearts, fiery; and hard things liquid .
E PIG . 5.
My soul, thy gold is true, but full of drosse;
Thy Saviour's breath refines thee with some losse:
His gentle fornace makes thee pure as true;
Thou must be melted, ere th' art cast anew.
VI
P SAIME 73 25.
Whom have I in Heaven but thee? and what desire I on earth in respect of thee?
1.
I love (and have some cause to love) the earth;
She is my Maker's creature, therefore good:
She is my Mother, for she gave me birth;
She is my tender Nurse; she gives me food:
But what's a Creature Lord, compar'd with thee?
Or what's my Mother or my Nurse to me?
2.
I love the Aire: her dainty sweets refresh
My drooping soul, and to new sweets invite me;
Her shrill-mouth'd quire sustain me with their flesh
And with their Polyphonian notes delight me:
But what's the Aire or all the sweets that she
Can blesse my soul withall, compar'd to thee?
3.
I love the Sea: She is my fellow-creature;
My carefull purveyer; she provides me store:
She walls me round; she makes my diet greater;
She wafts my treasure from a forrein shore;
But Lord of occans, when compar'd with thee
What is the Ocean or her wealth to me?
4.
To Heav'n's high citie I direct my journey,
Whose spangled suburbs entertain mine eye;
Mine eye, by contemplation's great atturney,
Transcends the crystall pavement of the skie:
But what is Heav'n great God, compar'd to thee?
Without thy presence Heav'n's no Heav'n to me
5.
Without thy presence Earth gives no refection;
Without thy presence Sea affords no treasure;
Without thy presence Air's a rank infection;
Without thy presence Heav'n it self's no pleasure:
If not possest, if not enjoy'd in thee,
What's Earth, or Sea or Air, or Heav'n to me?
6.
The highest Honours that the world can boast
Are subjects farre too low for my desire:
The brightest beams of glory are (at most)
But dying sparkles of thy living fire:
The proudest flames that earth can kindle, be
But nightly Glow-worms, if compar'd to thee.
7.
Without thy presence, wealth are bags of cares;
Wisdome, but folly; Joy, disquiet-sadnesse;
Friendship is treason, and Delights are snares;
Pleasures but pain, and Mirth but pleasing madnesse:
Without thee, Lord, things be not what they be
Nor have they being when compar'd with thee.
8.
In having all things, and not thee, what have I?
Not having thee, what have my labours got?
Let me enjoy but thee, what farther crave I?
And having thee alone, what have I not?
I wish nor Sea, nor Land, nor would I be
Possest of Heav'n. Heav'n unpossest of thee.
B ONAVENT . cap. 1. Soliloq.
Alas, my God, now I understand (but blush to confesse) that the beautie of thy Creatures hath deceived mine eyes, and I have not observed that thou art more amiable then all thy Creatures: to which thou hast communicated but one drop of thy inestimable beautie: For who hath adorned the Heavens with starres? Who hath stored the air with fowl, the waters with fish, the earth with plants and flowers? But what are all these but a small spark of Divine beauty.
S. C HRYS . H OM . 5. in Ep. ad Rom.
In having nothing I have all things because I have Christ; Having therefore all things in him. I seek no other reward for he is the universall reward .
E PIG . 6.
Who would not throw his better thoughts about him
And scorn this drosse within him; that, without him?
Cast up (my soul) thy clearer cye; Behold
If thou be fully melted, there's the mold.
VII
P SAI-ME 120. 5.
Wo is to me, that I remain in Meshech, and dwell in the tents of Kedar!
I S Nature's course dissolv'd? doth Time's glasse stand?
Or hath some frolick heart set back the hand
Of Fate's perpetuall Clock? will't never strike?
Is crazy Time grown lazy, faint or sick
With very Age? or hath that great Pajrroyall
Of Adamantine sisters, late made triall
Of some new trade? shall mortall hearts grow old
In sorrow? shall my weary arms infold
And underprop my panting sides for ever?
Is there no charitable hand will sever
My well-spun thread, that my imprison'd soul
May be deliver'd from this dull dark hole
Of dungeon flesh? O shall I, shall I never
Be ransom'd, but remain a slave for ever?
It is the lot of man but once to die,
But ere that death how many deaths have I?
What humane madnesse makes the world affraid
To entertein Heav'n's joy, because convey'd
By th' hand of death? will nakednesse refuse
Rich change of robes, because the man's not spruse
That brought them? or will povertie send back
Full bags of gold, because the bringer's black?
Life is a bubble, blown with whining breaths,
Fill'd with the torments of a thousand deaths;
Which, being prickt by death (while death deprives
One life) presents the soul a thousand lives:
O frantick mortall how hath earth bewitch'd
Thy Bediam soul, which hath so fondly pitch'd
Upon her false delights I Delights that cease
Before enjoyment, finds a time to please:
Her fickle joyes breed doubtfull fears; 'her fears
Bring hopefull griefs; her griefs weep fearfull teares;
Tears coyn deceitfull hopes; hopes, carefull doubt
And surly passion justles passion out:
To-day we pamper with a full repast
Of lavish mirth; at night we weep as fast:
To-night we swim in wealth, and lend; to-morrow
We sink in want, and find no friend to borrow
In what a climate doth my soul reside!
Where pale-fac'd murder, the first-born of pride
Sets up her kingdome in the very smiles,
And plighted faiths of men-like Crocodiles;
A land where each embroyd'red sattin word
Is lin'd with fraud; where Mars his lawlesse sword
Exiles Astraea's balance; where that hand
Now slayes his brother, that new-sow'd his land;
O that my dayes of bondage would expire
In this lewd soyl I Lord, how my soul's on fire
To be dissolv'd, that I might once obtain
These long'd-for joyes, long'd for so oft in vain!
If Moses -like I may not live possest
Of this fair land; Lord, let me see 't at least.
S. A UGUST Soliloq. cap. 12.
My life is a frail life; a corruptible life, a life, which the more it increaseth, the more it decreaseth: The farther it goeth, the nearer it cometh to death. A deceitfull life, and like a shadow, full of the snares of death: Now I rejoyce, now I languish, now I flourish, now infirm, now I live, and straight I die; now I seem happy, alwayes miserable now I laugh now I weep. Thus all things are subject to mutabilltie, that nothing continueth an houre in one state: O joy above joy, exceeding all joy, without which there is no joy, when shall I enter into thee that I may see my God that dwelleth in thee?
E PIG . 7.
Art thou so weak? O canst thou not digest
Ah houre of travel for a night of rest?
Chear up, my soul; call home thy spirits, and bear
One bad good-friday; full-mouth'd Easter's near.
VIII
R OMANES 7 24.
O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?
B E hold thy darling, which thy lustfull care
Pampers; for which thy restlesse thoughts prepare
Such early cates: for whom thy bubbling brow
So often sweats, and bankrupt eyes do ow
Such midnight scores to nature; for whose sake
Base earth is sainted, the infernal lake
Unfeard, the Crown of glory poorely rated.
Thy God neglected, and thy brother haled:
Behold thy darling, whom thy soul affects
So dearly: whom thy fond indulgence decks
And puppets up in soft, in silken weeds:
Behold thy darling, whom thy fondnesse feeds
With farre-fetcht delicates, the dear-bought gains
Of ill-spent time, the price of half thy pains:
Behold thy darling, who, when clad by thee,
Derides thy nakednesse; and when most free
Proclaims her lover, slave; and being fed
Most full, then strikes th' indulgent feeder dead
What meanst thou thus, my poore deluded soul
To love so fondly? Can the burning cole
Of thy affection last without the fuel
Of counter-love? Is thy compeer so cruel.
And thou so kind, to love unlov'd again?
Canst thou sow favours, and thus reap disdain?
Remember, O remember, thou art born
Of royall bloud; remember thou art sworn
A Maid of Honour in the Court of Heaven;
Remember what a costly price was given
To ransome thee from slav'ry thou wert in;
And wilt thou now my soul, turn slave again?
The Son and Heir to Heav'n's Triune J EHOVE
Would fain become a suiter for thy love,
And offers for thy dow'r his Father's Throne
To sit for Seraphims to gaze upon;
He 'll give thee Honour, Pleasure, Wealth and Things
Transcending farre the Majesty of Kings:
And wilt thou prostrate to the odious charms
Of this base scullion? shall his hollow arms
Hugg thy soft sides? shall these course hands untie
The sacred Zone of thy virginitie?
For shame, degen'rous soul, let thy desire
Be quickned up with more heroick fire;
Be wisely proud, let thy ambitious eye
Reade nobler objects; let thy thoughts defie
Such am'rous basenesse; let thy soul disdain
Th' ignoble profers of so base a swain;
Or if thy vowes be past, and Hymen's bands
Have ceremonied your unequall hands,
Annull, at least avoid, thy lawlesse act
With insufficiencie, or a precontract:
Or if the act be good yet maist thou plead
A second freedome; for the flesh is dead.
N AZIANZ . Orat. 16.
How I am joyned to this body, I know not; which when it is healthfull, provoketh me to warre, and being dammaged by warre, affecteth me with grief; which I both love as a fellow-servant, and hate as an utter enemy: It is a pleasant foe, and a perfidious friend. O strange conjunction and alienation: What I fear I embrace, and what I love I am affraid of; before I make warre, I am reconciled before I enjoy peace I am at variance.
E PIG . 8.
What need that house be dawb'd with flesh and bloud?
Hang'd round with silks and gold? repair'd with food?
Cost idly spent! That cost doth but prolong
Thy thraldome. Fool thou mak'st thy jail too strong.
IX
P HILIPPIANS 1. 23.
I am in a strait between two, having a desire to be dissolved, and to be with Christ.
1.
W H at meant our carefull parents so to wear,
And lavish out their ill-expended houres,
To purchase for us large possessions here,
Which (though unpurchas'd) are too truly ours?
What meant they, ah what meant they to indure
Such loads of needlesse labour, to procure
And make that thing our own, which was our own too sure!
2.
What mean these liv'ries and possessive keyes?
What mean these bargains, and these needlesse sales?
What need these jealous, these suspitious wayes
Of law-divis'd, and law-dissolv'd entails?
No need to sweat for gold, wherewith to buy
Estates of high-priz'd land; no need to tie
Earth to their heirs, were they but clogg'd with earth as I.
3.
O were their souls but clogg'd with earth as I,
They would not purchase with so salt an itch;
They would not take of almes, what now they buy;
Nor call him happy, whom the world counts rich:
They would not take such pains, project and prog
To charge their shoulders with so great a log:
Who hath the greater lands, hath but the greater clog.
4.
I cannot do an act which earth disdains not;
I cannot think a thought which earth corrupts not;
I cannot speak a word which earth profanes not;
I cannot make a vow earth interrupts not:
If I but offer up an early grone,
Or spread my wings to Heav'n's long-long'd for throne,
She darkens my complaints and drags my offering down.
5.
Ev'n like the hawk, (whose keeper's wary hands
Have made a prisner to her wothring stock)
Forgetting quite the pow'r of her fast bands,
Makes a rank bate from her forsaken block;
But her too faithfull leash doth soon restrain
Her broken flight, attempted oft in vain;
It gives her loyns a twitch, and tugs her back again.
6.
So, when my soul directs her better eye
To Heav'n's bright Pallace (where my treasure lies)
I spread my willing wings, but cannot fly;
Earth hales me down, I cannot, cannot rise:
When I but strive to mount the least degree,
Earth gives a jerk, and foils me on my knee;
Lord, how my soul is rackt betwixt the world and thee!
7.
Great God, I spread my feeble wings in vain;
In vain I offer my extended hands:
I cannot mount till thou unlink my chain;
I cannot come till thou release my bands:
Which if thou please to break, and then supply
My wings with spirit, th' Eagle shall not fly
A pitch that's half so fair nor half so swift as I.
B ONAVENT . cap. 1. Soliloq.
Ah sweet Jesus, pierce the marrow of my soul with the healthfull shafts of thy love, that it may truly burn and melt and languish with the onely desire of thee; that it may desire to be dissolved, and to be with thee. Let it hunger alone for the bread of life; let it thirst after thee, the spring and fountain of eternall light, the stream of true pleasure: let it alwaies desire thee, seek thee, and find thee, and sweetly rest in thee .
E PIG . 9.
What? will thy shackles neither loose nor break?
Are they too strong, or is thy arm too weak?
Art will prevall where knotty strength denies;
My soul, there's Aquafortis in thine eyes.
X
P SAIM 142. 7.
Bring my soul out of prison, that I may prayse thy name
M Y Soul is like a bird, my flesh the cage,
Wherein she wears her weary pilgrimage
Of houres as few as evil, dayly fed,
With sacred wine, and sacrumentall bread;
The keyes that lock her in, and let her out,
Are Birth and Death; 'twixt both she hops about
From perch to perch, from sense to reason; then
From higher reason down to sense again:
From sense she climbs to faith; where for a season
She sits and sings; then down again to reason:
From reason back to faith, and straight from thence
She rudely flutters to the perch of sense:
From sense to hope; then hops from hope to doubt:
From doubt, to dull despair; there seeks about
For desp'rate freedome and at ev'ry grate,
She wildly thrusts, and begs th' untimely date
Of unexpired thraldome, to release
Th' afflicted captive, that can find no peace.
Thus am I coop'd within this fleshly cage
I wear my youth, and wast my weary age
Spending that breath which was ordain'd to chaunt
Heav'n's prayses forth, in sighes and sad complaint:
Whilst happier birds can spread their nimble wing
From shrubs to cedars, and there chirp and sing
In choice of raptures, the harmonious story
Of man's redemption, and his Maker's glory:
You glorious Martyrs, you illustrious troops,
That once were cloyster'd in your fleshly coops
As fast as I, what rhet'rick had your tongues?
What dextrous Art had your Eleglak songs?
What Paul-like pow'r had your admir'd devotion?
What shackle-breaking faith infus'd such motion
To your strong prayers, that could obtain the boon
To be inlarg'd, to be uncag'd so soon?
When I, poore I, can sing my dayly tears,
Grown old in bondage and can find no ears;
You great partakers of eternall glory,
That with your Heav'n-prevalling Oratory,
Releas'd your souls from your terrestriall cage.
Permit the passion of my holy rage
To recommend my sorrows, dearly known
To you, in dayes of old, and once your own,
To your best thoughts, (but oh 't doth not befit ye
To move your pray'rs; you love and joy, not pittie:)
Great Lord of souls to whom should prisners flie
But thee? Thou hadst thy cage, as well as I:
And for my sake, thy pleasure was to know
The sorrows that it brought, and feltst them too;
O set me free and I will spend those dayes,
Which now I wast in begging in thy prayse.
A NSELM . in Protolog. cap. 1.
O miserable condition of mankind, that has lost that for which he was created! Alas, what hath he lost? And what hath he found? He hath lost happinesse for which he was made, and found misery for which he was not made: What is gone? and what is left? That thing is gone, without which he is unhappy; that thing is left, by which he is miserable: O wretched men! From whence are we expelled? To what are we impelled? Whence are we thrown? And whither are we hurried? From our home into banishment; from the sight of God into our own blindnesse; from the pleasure of immortalitie to the bitternesse of death: Miserable change! from how great a good, to how great an evil? Ah me, what have I enterprised? what have I done? whither did I go? whither am I come?
E PIG. 10.
Paul's midnight-voyce prevail'd; his musick's thunder
Unhing'd the prison doores, split bolts in sunder:
And sitst thou here, and bang'st the feeble wing?
And whin'st to be enlarg'd? soul learn to sing.
XI
P SALM 42 1.
As the Hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.
1.
H OW shall my tongue expresse that hallow'd fire
Which Heav'n hath kindled in my ravisht heart!
What Muse shall I invoke, that will inspire
My lowly quilt to act a lotrie
What Art shall I deviser' expresse desire,
Too intricate to be express by Art 1
Let all the nine be silent; I refuse
Their aid in this high task, for they abuse
The flames of love too much: assist me. David's Muse.
2.
Not as the thirsty soyl desires soft show'rs,
To quicken and refresh her Embryon grain:
Nor as the drooping crests of fuding flow'rs,
Request the bountie of a morning rain,
Do I desire my God; these, in few houres,
Re-wish what late their wishes did obtein;
But as the swift-foot Hart doth wounded flie
To th' much-desired streams, ev'n so do I
Pant after thee my God, whom I must find or die.
3.
Before a pack of deep-mouth'd lusts I flee;
O, they have singled out my panting heart,
And wanton Cupid , sitting in a tree,
Hath pierc'd my bosome with a flaming dart;
My soul being spent for refuge seeks to thee
But cannot find where thou my refuge art:
Like as the swift-foot Hart doth, wounded flie
To the desired streams, ev'n so do I
Pant after thee my God, whom I must find or die.
4.
At length by flight, I over-went the pack;
Thou drew'st the wanton dart from out my wound;
The bloud, that follow'd, left a purple track,
Which brought a Serpent, but in shape a Hound:
We strove, he bit me; but thou brak'st his back
I left him grov'ling on th' envenom'd ground:
But as the Serpent-bitten Hart doth flie
To the long-long'd for streams, ey'n so did I
Pant after thee, my God whom I must find or die.
5.
If lust should chase my soul, made swift by fright
Thou art the streams whereto my soul is bound:
Or if a jav'lin wound my sides in flight,
Thou art the balsame that must cure my wound:
If poyson chance t' infest my soul, in fight,
Thou art the treacle that must make me sound:
Ev'n as the wounded Hart, embost, doth flie
To th' streams extremely long'd for, so do I
Pant after thee my God whom I must find or die.
C YRIL . lib. 5 in Job. cap. 10.
O precious water, which quencheth the noysome thirst of this world, that scoureth all the stains of sinners; that watereth the earth of our souls wish heavenly showers, and bringeth back the thirsty heart of man to his onely God!
S. A UGUST Soliloq 35.
O fountain of life, and vein of living waters, when shall I leave this forsaken, impassible, and dry earth, and last the waters of thy sweetnesse, that I may behold thy virtue, and thy glory, and slake my thirst with the streams of thy mercy; Lord, I thirst: Thou art the spring of life, satisfie me; I thirst Lord I thirst after thee the living God!
E PIG . 11.
The arrow-smitten Hart, deep-wounded, flies
To th' springs with water in his weeping eyes:
Heav'n is thy spring: If Satan's fiery dart
Pierce thy faint sides, do so, my wounded Heart.
XII
P SALM 42 2
When shall I come and appear before God?
W H at is my soul the better to be tin'd
With holy fire? what boots it to be coyn'd
With Heav'n's own stamp? what vantage can there be
To souls of Heav'n descended pedegree,
More then to beasts that grovel? Are not they
Fed by th' Almightie's hand? and ev'ry day,
Fill'd with his blessing too? Do they not see
God in his Creatures as direct as we?
Do they not tast thee? hear thee? nay what sense
Is not partaker of thine Excellence?
What more do we? Alas, what serves our reason
But, like dark lanthorns, to accomplish treason
With greater closenesse? It affords no light
Brings thee no nearer to our purblind sight;
No pleasure rises up the least degree,
Great God, but in the clearer view of thee:
What priv'ledge more then sense hath reason than?
What vantage is it to be born a man?
How often hath my patience built, dear Lord
Vain tow'rs of Hope upon thy gracious Word!
How often hath thy Hope-reviving Grace
Woo'd my suspitious eyes to seek thy face!
How often have I sought thee! Oh how long
Hath expectation taught my perfect tongue
Repeated pray'rs! yet pray'rs could ne'r obtain;
In vain I seek thee, and I beg in vain:
If it be high presumption to behold
Thy face, why didst thou make mine eyes so bold
To seek it? If that object be too bright
For man's aspect, why did thy lips invite
Mine eye t' expect it? If it might be seen,
Why is this envious curtain drawn between
My darkned eye and it? O tell me, why
Thou dost command the thing thou dost deny?
Why dost thou give me so unpriz'd a treasure
And then deny'st my greedy soul the pleasure
To view thy gift? Alas, that gift is void,
And is no gift, that may not be enjoy'd:
If those refulgent beams of Heav'n's great light
Guild not the day, what is the day, but night?
The drouzie shepherd sleeps; flow'rs droop and fade;
The birds are sullen, and the beast is sad:
But if bright Titan dart his golden ray
And with his riches, glorifie the day,
The jolly shepherd pipes; flow'rs freshly spring;
The beast growes gamesome and the birds they sing.
Thou art my Sun, great God: O when shall I
View the full beams of thy Meridian eye?
Draw, draw this fleshly curtain, that denies
The gracious presence of thy glorious eyes;
Or give me faith; and by the eye of grace,
I shall behold thee, though not face to face.
S. A UGUST in Psal. 39.
Who created all things is better then all things, who beautified all things is more beautifull then all things; who made strength is stronger then all things: who made great things is greater then all things: Whatsoever thou lovest he is that to thee: Learn to love the workman in his work, the Creatour in his creature: Let not that which was made by him possesse thee lest thou lose him by whom thy self was made .
S. A UGUST . Med. cap. 37.
O thou most sweet, most gracious, most amiable, most fair, when shall I see thee? when shall I be satisfied with thy beautie? When wilt thou lead me from this dark dungeon that I may confesse thy name?
E PIG . 12.
How art thou shaded in this vell of night,
Behind thy curtain flesh? thou seest no light,
But what thy pride doth challenge as her own:
Thy flesh is hie: soul take this curtain down.
XIII
P SALM 55 6.
O that I had the wings of a Dove, for then I would flie away and be at rest.
1.
A N d am I sworn a dunghill slave for ever
To earth's base drudg'ry? shall I never find
A night of rest? shall my indentures never
Be cancell'd? did injurious Nature bind
My soul earth's prentice, with no clause to leave her?
No day of freedome? must I ever grind?
O that I had the pinions of a Dove,
That I might quit my bands and sore above,
And poure my just complaints before the great Jehove!
2.
How happy are the Doves, that have the pow'r,
When ere they please, to spread their ayry wings!
Or cloud-dividing Eagles, that can towre
Above the sent of these inferiour things!
How happy is the Lark, that ev'ry howre
Leaves earth, and then for joy mounts up and sings!
Had my dull soul but wings as well as they,
How I would spring from earth and clip away
As wise Astrea did, and scorn this ball of clay!
3.
O how my soul would spurn this ball of clay,
And loath the dainties of earth's painfull pleasure!
O how I'de laugh to see men night and day
Turmoyl, to gain that trash they call their treasure!
O how I'de smile to see what plots they lay
To catch a blast, or own a smile from Cesar!
Had I the pineons of a mounting Dove.
How I would sore and sing and hate the love
Of transitory toyes, and feed on joyes above!
4.
There should I find that everlasting pleasure,
Which change removes not, and which chance prevents not;
There should I find that everlasting treasure,
Which force deprives not fortune dis-augments not;
There should I find that everlasting Cesar ,
Whose hand recalls not, and whose heart repents not;
Had I the pineons of a clipping Dove,
How I would climb the skies, and hate the love
Of transitory toyes, and joy in things above!
5.
No rank-mouth'd slander there shall give offence,
Or blast our blooming names, as here they do;
No liver-scalding lust shall there incense
Our boyling veins; there, is no Cupid's bow:
Lord, give my soul the milk-white innocence
Of Doves, and I shall have their pineons too:
Had I the pineons of a sprightly Dove;
How I would quit this earth, and sore above
And Heav'n's blest kingdome find with Heav'n's blest King Jehove.
S. A UGUST . in Psal. 138.
What wings should I desire but the two precepts of love, on which the Law and the Prophets depend! O if I could obtain these wings I could fly from thy face to thy face, from the face of thy Justice to the face of thy Mercy: Let us find those wings by love which we have lost by lust .
S. A UGUST . in Psal. 76.
Let us cast off whatsoever hindereth, entangleth, or burdeneth our flight untill we attain that which satisfieth; beyond which nothing is: beneath which, all things are of which, all things are .
E PIG . 13.
Tell me, my wishing soul, didst ever trie
How fast the wings of red-crost faith can flie?
Why begg'st thou then the pineons of a Dove?
Faith's wings are swifter but the swiftest love.
XIV.
P SALM 84. 1
How amiable are thy Tabernacles, O God of Hosts
A N cient of dayes, to whom all times are Now
Before whose Glory Seraphims do bow
Their blushing cheeks, and veil their blemisht faces!
That uncontain'd at once, dost fill all places,
How glorious, O how farre beyond the height
Of puzzled quils, or the obtuse concelt.
Of flesh and bloud, or the too flat reports
Of mortall tongues, are thy expreslesse courts!
Whose glory to paint forth with greater Art,
Ravish my fancy, and inspire my heart;
Excuse my bold attempt, and pardon me
For shewing sense what faith alone should see.
Ten thousand millions, and ten thousand more
Of angel-measur'd leagues from th' Eastern shore
Of dungeon earth, this glorious Palace stands;
Before whose pearly gates ten thousand bands
Of armed angels wait to entertain
Those purged souls for whom the Lamb was slain;
Whose guiltlesse death, and voluntary yielding
Of whose gly'n life, gave this brave court her building;
The lukewarm bloud of this dear Lamb being spilt
To rubies turn'd, whereof her posts were built;
And what dropt down in cold and gelid gore,
Did turn rich Saphyres, and impav'd her floore:
The brighter flames, that from his ey-balls ray'd,
Grew Chrysolites, whereof her walls were made:
The milder glances sparkled on the ground,
And groundsild every doore with Diamond;
But dying, darted upwards, and did fix
A battlement of purest Sardonix.
Her streets with burnisht gold are paved round
Starres lie like pebbles scattred on the ground:
Pearl mixt with Onyx, and the Jasper stone,
Made gravell'd causwayes to be trampled on:
There shines no Sun by day, no Moon by night;
The Pallace glory is the Pallace light:
There is no time to measure motion by,
There Time is swallow'd with Eternitie:
Wry mouth'd Disdain, and corner-haunting Lust
And twy-fac'd Fraud, and beetle-brow'd Distrust
Soul-boyling Rage, and trouble-state Sedition
And giddy Doubt, and goggle-ey'd Suspition
And lumpish Sorrow, and degen'rous Fear,
Are banisht thence; and Death's a stranger there:
But simple Love, and sempiternall Joyes,
Whose sweetnesse neither gluts, nor fulnesse cloyes;
Where face to face our ravish't eye shall see
Great E LOHIM , that glorious One in Three,
And Three in One; and seeing him shall blesse him,
And blessing, love him, and in love, possesse him:
Here stay my soul, and ravish in relation:
Thy words being spent, spend now in contemplation.
S. G REG . in Psal. 7 paenitent.
Sweet Jesus, the word of the Father, the brightnesse of paternall glory, whom Angels delight to view, teach me to do thy will; that led by thy good Spirit. I may come to that blessed Citle, where day is eternall, where there is certain securitie, and secure eternitie, and eternall peace, and peacefull happinesse, and happy sweetnesse, and sweet pleasure; where thou, O God, with the Father and the holy Spirit, livest and reignest world without end .
Ibid.
There is light without darknesse; joy without grief, desire without punishment; love without sadnesse; satietie without loathing; safetie without fear; health without disease and life without death .
E PIG . 14.
My soul, pry not too nearly; the complexion
Of Sol's bright face is seen but by reflexion:
But wouldst thou know what's heav'n? I'le tell thee what;
Think what thou canst not think and heav'n is that.
XV.
Canticles 8. 14
Make hast my Beloved, and be like the Roe, or the young Hart upon the mountains of Spices.
G O gentle tyrant go; thy flames do pierce
My soul too deep; thy flames are too too fierce;
My marrow melts, my fainting spirits fry
I' th' torrid Zone of thy Meridian eye:
Away away, thy sweets are too perfuming;
Turn, turn thy face, thy fires are too consuming:
Hast hence, and let thy winged steps out-go
The frighted Ro-buck, and his flying Ro.
But wilt thou leave me then? O thou that art
Life of my soul, soul of my dying heart;
Without the sweet aspect of whose fair eyes
My soul doth languish and her solace dies:
Art thou so easily woo'd? so apt to heare
The frantick language of my foolish fear?
Leave leave me not, nor turn thy beauty from me;
Look, look upon me, though thine eyes o'rcome me.
O how they wound I but how my wounds content me!
How sweetly these delightfull pains torment me!
How I am tortur'd in excessive measure
Of pleasing crueltie's too cruel pleasure!
Turn, turn away, remove thy scorching beams;
I languish with these bitter-sweet extremes:
Hast then and let thy winged steps out-go
The flying Ro-buck, and his frighted Ro:
Turn back, my dear; O let my ravisht eye
Once more behold thy face before thou fly;
What, shall we part without a'mutuall kisse?
O who can leave so sweet a face as this?
Look full upon me for my soul desires
To turn a holy Martyr in those fires:
O leave me not, nor turn thy beauty from me:
Look, look upon me, though thy flames ov'rcome me.
If thou becloud the Sun-shine of thine eye,
I freez to death, and if it shine, I frie:
Which like a fever that my soul hath got,
Makes me to burn too cold, or freez too hot:
Alas, I cannot bear so sweet a smart,
Nor canst thou be lesse glorious then thou art:
Hast then, and let thy winged steps out-go.
The frighted Ro-buck and his flying Ro.
But go not farre beyond the reach of breath;
Too large a distance makes another death:
My youth is in her Spring; Autumnall vowes
Will make me riper for so sweet a Spouse;
When after-times have burnish'd my desire,
I'll shoot thee flames for flames, and fire for fire,
O leave me not, nor turn thy beautie from me;
Look look upon me though thy flames ov'rcome me.
Autor Scalae Paradisi, tom. 9. Aug. cap. 8.
Fear not, O Bride, nor despair; think not thy self contemned, if thy Bridegroom withdraw his face a while: All things cooperate for the best: both from his absence, and his presence thou gainest light: He cometh to thee, and he goeth from thee: he cometh, to make thee consolate, he goeth, to make thee cantious, lest thy abundant consolation puff thee up: he cometh, that thy languishing soul may be comforted; he goeth, lest his familioritie should be contemned; and being absent, to be more desired; and being desired, to be more earnestly sought; and being long sought, to be more acceptably found.
E PIG . 15.
My soul, sinne's monster, whom, with greater ease
Ten thousand fold, thy God could make then please;
What wouldst thou have? nor pleas'd with sun nor shade?
Heav'n knowes not what to make of what he made.
Canticles 5 8
I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that you tell him that I am sick of love.
1.
Y O u holy Virgins, that so oft surround
The eltie's Saphire walls; whose snowy feet
Measure the pearly paths of sacred ground,
And trace the new Jerus'lem's Jasper street;
Ah, you whose care-forsaken hearts are crown'd
With your best wishes; that enjoy the sweet
Of all your hopes: If e'r you chance to spie
My absent Love, O tell him that I lie
Deep-wounded with the flames that furnac'd from his eye.
2.
I charge you Virgins, as you hope to heare
The heav'nly musick of your Lover's voice:
I charge you by the solemne faith ye bear
To plighted vows, and to that loyall choice
Of your affections, or, if ought more dear
You hold: by Hymen, by your marriage-joyes
I charge you tell him, that a flaming dart,
Shot from his eye, hath pierc'd my bleeding heart:
And I am sick of love, and languish in my smart
3.
Tell him, O tell him, how my panting breast
Is scorch'd with flames, and how my soul is pin'd;
Tell him, O tell him, how I lle opprest
With the full torments of a troubled mind;
O tell him tell him that he loves in jest,
But I in carnest: tell him, he 's unkind:
But if a discontented frown appears
Upon his angry brow, accoast his ears
With soft and fewer words and act the rest in tears
4.
O tell him, that his cruelties deprive
My soul of peace, while peaco in vain she seeks;
Tell him those damask roses, that did strive
With white both fade upon my sallow cheeks;
Tell him, no token doth proclaim I live,
But tears, and sighs, and sobs, and sudden shrieks:
Thus if your piercing words should chance to bore
His hearkning car, and move a sigh, give ore
To speak; and tell him — Tell him that I could no more
5.
If your elegious breath should hap to rouzo
A happy tear, close-harb'ring in his eye:
Then urge his plighted faith, the sacred vows
Which neither I can break, nor he deny:
Bewail the torments of his loyall spouse
That for his sake would make a sport to die:
O blessed Virgins, how my passion tires
Beneath the burden of her fond desires!
Heav'n never shot such flames, earth never felt such fires.
S A UGUST . Med. cap. 40.
What shall I say? What shall I do? Whither shall I go? Where shall I seek him? Or when shall I find him? Whom shall I ask? Who will tell my beloved that I am sick of love?
G ULIET in cap. 5. Cant.
I live, but not I: it is my beloved that liveth in me: I love my self, not with my own love, but with the love of my beloved that loveth me: I love not my self in my self but my self in him and him in me
E PIG . 1.
Grieve not (my soul) nor let thy love wax faint,
Weep'st thou to lose the cause of thy complaint?
He'll come; Love ne'r was bound to times nor laws
Till then thy tears complain without a cause.
II
Canticles 2. 5.
Stay me with flowers, and comfort me with apples for I am sick with love
1.
O T yrant love! how doth thy sov'reigne pow'r
Subject poore souls to thy imperious thrall!
They say, thy cup 's compos'd of sweet and sowre;
They say thy diet's honey mixt with gall;
How comes it then to passe, these lips of our
Still trade in bitter: tast no sweet at all?
O tyrant love! Shall our perpetuall toil
Ne'r find a Sabbath, to refresh awhile
Our drooping souls? Art thou all frowns, and ne'r a smile?
2.
You blessed Maids of honour that frequent
The royall courts of our renown'd Jehove;
With flow'rs restore my spirits faint and spent,
O fetch me apples from Love's fruitfull grove
To cool my palate, and renew my sent:
For I am sick, for I am sick of love:
These will revive my dry, my wasted pow'rs,
And they will sweeten my unsav'ry houres:
Refresh me then with fruit and comfort me with flow'rs.
3.
O bring me apples to asswage that fire.
Which Ætna-like inflames my flaming breast:
Nor is it every apple I desire,
Nor that which pleases every palate best:
I is not the lasting Deuzan I require,
Nor yet the red-cheek'd Queening I request;
Nor that which first beshrewd the name of wife
Nor that whose beauty caus'd the golden strife:
No, no, bring me an apple from the tree of life
4.
Virgins tuck up your silken laps, and fill ye
With the fair wealth of Flora's Magazine;
The purple violet and the pale-fac'd lilly:
The pancy and the organ colombine:
The flowring thyme, the guilt-boul daffadilly:
The lowly pink the lofty eglentine:
The blushing rose, the queen of flowers and best
Of Flora's beauty: but above the rest,
Let Jesse's sovereigne flower perfume my qualming breast
5.
Haste, Virgins, haste, for I lie weak and faint,
Beneath the pangs of love: why stand ye mute
As if your silence neither car'd to grant,
Nor yet your language to deny my suit?
No key can lock the doore of my complaint,
Untill I smell this flower or tast that fruit;
Go, Virgins, seek this tree, and search that bower:
O, how my soul shall blesse that happy houre,
That brings to me such fruit that brings me such a flower.
G ISTEN . in cap. 2. Cant. Expos. 3.
O happy sicknesse, where the infirmitie is not to death, but to life, that God may be glorified by it! O happy fever, that procedeth not from a consuming, but a calcining fire! O happy distemper, wherein she soul relishes no earthly things but onely savoureth divine nourishment!
S. B ERN . Serm 51 in Cant.
By flowers understand faith: by fruit, good works. As the flower or blossome is before the fruit, so is faith before good works: So neither is the fruit without the flower, nor good works without faith.
E PIG . 2.
Why apples, O my soul? Can they remove
The pangs of grief, or ease the flames of love?
It was that fruit which gave the first offence:
That sent him hither: that remov'd him hence.
III
C ANTICIES 2 16
My beloved is mine, and I am his, He feedeth among the lillies
1.
E V 'n like two little bank-dividing brooks,
That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams
And having rang'd and search'd a thousand nooks,
Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames,
Where in a greater current they conjoyn:
So I my best-beloved's am; so he is mine.
2.
Ev'n so we met; and after long pursuit,
Ev'n so we joyn'd: we both became entire:
No need for either to renew a suit.
For I was flax and he was flames of fire:
Our firm-united souls did more then twine;
So I my best beloved's am: so he is mine.
3.
If all those glitt'ring Monarchs that command
The servile quarters of this earthly ball,
Should tender, in exchange, their shares of land,
I would not change my fortunes for them all:
Their wealth is but a counter to my coin:
The world's but theirs: but my beloved 's mine.
4.
Nay more; If the fair Thesplan Ladies all
Should heap together their diviner treasure:
That treasure should be deem'd a price too small
To buy a minute's lease of half my pleasure
'T is not the sacred wealth of all the nine
Can buy my heart from him, or his, from being mine
5.
Nor Time, nor Place, nor Chance, nor Death can bow
My least desires unto the least remove:
He 's firmly mine by oath; This by vow:
He 's mine by faith; and I am his by love;
He 's mine by water; I am his by wine;
Thus I my best-beloved's am; thus he is mine.
6.
Ho is my Altar: I his Holy Place;
I am his guest; and ho my living food;
I 'm his by penitence: he mine by grace;
I'm his by purchase; he is mine, by bloud;
He 's my supporting elm; and I his vine;
Thus I my best beloved's am; thus he is mine
7.
He gives me wealth, I give him all my vows:
I give him songs; he gives me length of dayes:
With wreaths of grace he crowns my conqu'ring brows:
And I his Temples with a crown of Praise:
Which he accepts as an ev'rlasting signe,
That I my best-beloved's am; that he is mine.
S. A UGUST Manu. cap. 24.
O my soul stampt with the image of thy God; love him of whom thou art so much beloved: bend to him that boweth to thee, seek him that seeketh thee. Love thy lover, by whose love thou art prevented being the cause of thy love: Be carefull with those that are carefull, want with those that want; be clean with the clean, and holy with the holy; choose this friend above all friends who when all are taken away remaineth onely faithfull to thee; In the day of thy buriall, when all leave thee, he will not deceive thee, but defend thee from the roaring Lions prepared for their prey
E PIG . 3.
Sing, Hymen, to my soul; What? lost and found?
Welcom'd, espous'd, enjoy'd so soon, and crown'd!
He did but climb the Crosse, and then came down
To th' gates of hell; triumph'd, and fetch'd a Crown.
IV
Canticles 7. 10.
I am my Beloved's, and his desire is towards me
1.
L I ke to the Artick needle, that doth guide
The wand'ring shade by his Magnetick pow'r
And leaves his silken Gnomon to decide
The question of the controverted houre;
First franticks up and down, from side to side,
And restlesso beats his crystall'd Iv'ry case
With vain impatience; jets from place to place
And seeks the bosome of his frozen bride;
At length he slacks his motion, and doth rest
His trembling point at his bright Pole's beloved brest
2.
Ev'n so my soul, being hurried here and there
By ev'ry object that presents delight:
Fain would be settled, but she knowes not where;
She likes at morning what she loaths at night;
She bowes to honour; then she lends an eare
To that sweet swan-like voyce of dying pleasure
Then tumbles in the scatter'd heaps of treasure;
Now flatter'd with false hope; now foyl'd with fear:
Thus finding all the world's delights to be
But empty toyes, good God she points alone to thee
3.
But hath the virtued steel a power to move?
Or can the untouch'd needle point aright?
Or can my wandring thoughts forbear to rove
Unguided by the virtue of thy spirit?
O hath my leaden soul the art t' improve
Her wasted talent, and unrais'd, aspire
In this sad moulting-time of her desire?
Not first belov'd have I the power to love?
I cannot stirre, but as thou please to move me
Nor can my heart return thee love untill thou love me.
4.
The still Commandresse of the silent night
Borrows her beams from her bright brother's eye;
His fair aspect filles her sharp horns with light;
If he withdraw, her flames are quench'd and die:
Even so the beams of thy enlightning spirit
Infus'd and shot into my dark desire.
Inflame my thoughts, and fill my soul with fire
That I am ravisht with a new delight:
But if thou shroud thy face, my glory fades,
And I remain a Nothing , all compos'd of shades.
5.
Eternall God, O thou that onely art
The sacred Fountain of eternall light,
And blessed Loadstone of my better part;
O thou my heart's desire my soul's delight
Reflect upon my soul, and touch my heart,
And then my heart shall prize no good above thee;
And then my soul shall know thee; knowing love thee;
And then my trembling thoughts shall never start
From thy commands, or swerve the least degree
Or once presume to move but as they move in thee.
S. A UGUST . Med. cap. 25.
If Man can love man with so entire affection, that the one can scarce brook the other's absence; If a bride can be joyned to her bride-groom with so great an ardency of mind, that for the extremitie of love she can enjoy no rest, not suffering his absence without great anxiety; with what affection, with what fervency ought the soul whom thou hast espoused by faith and compassion to love thee her true God and glorious bridegroom?
E PIG . 4.
My soul, thy love is dear; 'Twas thought a good
And easie pen'worth of thy Saviour's bloud:
But be not proud; All matters rightly scann'd,
'Twas over-bought: 'Twas sold at second hand
V
C ANTICIES 5 6.
My Soul melted whilst my Beloved spake.
L O rd, has the feeble voyce of flesh and bloud
The pow'r to work thine ears into a floud
Of melted mercy? or the strength t' unlock
The gates of Heav'n, and to dissolve a rock
Of marble clouds into a morning show'r?
Or hath tho breath of whining dust the pow'r
To stop, or snatch a falling thunderbolt
From thy fierce hand, and make thy hand revolt
From resolute confusion, and in stead
Of vyals, poure full blessings-on our head?
Or shall the wants of famisht ravens cry,
And move thy mercy to a quick supply?
Or shall the silcot suits of drooping flow'rs
Woo thee for drops, and be refresh'd with show'rs?
Alas, what marvel then, great God, what wonder
If thy hell-rouzing voice, that splits in sunder
The brazen portals of eternall death;
What wonder, if that life-restoring breath
Which dragg'd me from th' infernall shades of night
Should melt my ravisht soul with ore-delight?
O can my frozen gutters chooso but run,
That feel the warmth of such a glorious Sun?
Me thinks his language, like a flaming arrow,
Doth pierce my bones, and melts their wounded marrow;
Thy flames, O Cupid (though the joyfull heart
Feels neither tang of grief, nor fears the smart
Of jealous doubts, but drunk with full desires)
Are torments weigh'd with these colestiall fires;
Pleasures that ravish in so high a measure
That O I languish in excesse of pleasure:
What ravisht heart, that feels these melting joyes,
Would not despise and loath the treach'rous toyes
Of dunghill carth? what soul would not be proud
Of wry-mouth'd scorns, the worst that flesh and bloud
Had rancour to devise? Who would not bear
The world's derision with a thankfull eare?
What palat would refuse full bowls of spight
To gain a minute's tast of such delight?
Great spring of light, in whom there is no shade
But what my interposed sinnes have made;
Whose marrow-melting fires admit no screen
But what my own-rebellions put between
Their precious flames, and my obdurate eare;
Disperse these plague-distilling clouds, and clear
My mungy soul into a glorious day;
Transplant this screen, remove this barre away
Then, then my fluent soul shall feel the fires
Of thy sweet voyce, and my dissolv'd desires
Shall turn a sov'reigne balsame, to make whole
Those wounds my sinnes inflicted on thy soul.
S. A UGUST , Soliloq, cap. 34.
What fire is this that so warmeth my heart! What light is this that so enlightneth my soul! O fire that alwayes burnest, and never goest out kindle me: O light, which ever-shinest, and art never darkned, illuminate me: O that I had my heat from thee, most holy fire! How sweetly dost thou burn! How secretly dost thou shine! How desiderably dost thou inflame me!
B ONAVENT' Stim. Amoris, cap. 8.
It maketh God man, and man God, things temporall, eternall; mortall immortall; it maketh an enemy a friend' a servant, a sonne; vile things, glorious-cold hearts, fiery; and hard things liquid .
E PIG . 5.
My soul, thy gold is true, but full of drosse;
Thy Saviour's breath refines thee with some losse:
His gentle fornace makes thee pure as true;
Thou must be melted, ere th' art cast anew.
VI
P SAIME 73 25.
Whom have I in Heaven but thee? and what desire I on earth in respect of thee?
1.
I love (and have some cause to love) the earth;
She is my Maker's creature, therefore good:
She is my Mother, for she gave me birth;
She is my tender Nurse; she gives me food:
But what's a Creature Lord, compar'd with thee?
Or what's my Mother or my Nurse to me?
2.
I love the Aire: her dainty sweets refresh
My drooping soul, and to new sweets invite me;
Her shrill-mouth'd quire sustain me with their flesh
And with their Polyphonian notes delight me:
But what's the Aire or all the sweets that she
Can blesse my soul withall, compar'd to thee?
3.
I love the Sea: She is my fellow-creature;
My carefull purveyer; she provides me store:
She walls me round; she makes my diet greater;
She wafts my treasure from a forrein shore;
But Lord of occans, when compar'd with thee
What is the Ocean or her wealth to me?
4.
To Heav'n's high citie I direct my journey,
Whose spangled suburbs entertain mine eye;
Mine eye, by contemplation's great atturney,
Transcends the crystall pavement of the skie:
But what is Heav'n great God, compar'd to thee?
Without thy presence Heav'n's no Heav'n to me
5.
Without thy presence Earth gives no refection;
Without thy presence Sea affords no treasure;
Without thy presence Air's a rank infection;
Without thy presence Heav'n it self's no pleasure:
If not possest, if not enjoy'd in thee,
What's Earth, or Sea or Air, or Heav'n to me?
6.
The highest Honours that the world can boast
Are subjects farre too low for my desire:
The brightest beams of glory are (at most)
But dying sparkles of thy living fire:
The proudest flames that earth can kindle, be
But nightly Glow-worms, if compar'd to thee.
7.
Without thy presence, wealth are bags of cares;
Wisdome, but folly; Joy, disquiet-sadnesse;
Friendship is treason, and Delights are snares;
Pleasures but pain, and Mirth but pleasing madnesse:
Without thee, Lord, things be not what they be
Nor have they being when compar'd with thee.
8.
In having all things, and not thee, what have I?
Not having thee, what have my labours got?
Let me enjoy but thee, what farther crave I?
And having thee alone, what have I not?
I wish nor Sea, nor Land, nor would I be
Possest of Heav'n. Heav'n unpossest of thee.
B ONAVENT . cap. 1. Soliloq.
Alas, my God, now I understand (but blush to confesse) that the beautie of thy Creatures hath deceived mine eyes, and I have not observed that thou art more amiable then all thy Creatures: to which thou hast communicated but one drop of thy inestimable beautie: For who hath adorned the Heavens with starres? Who hath stored the air with fowl, the waters with fish, the earth with plants and flowers? But what are all these but a small spark of Divine beauty.
S. C HRYS . H OM . 5. in Ep. ad Rom.
In having nothing I have all things because I have Christ; Having therefore all things in him. I seek no other reward for he is the universall reward .
E PIG . 6.
Who would not throw his better thoughts about him
And scorn this drosse within him; that, without him?
Cast up (my soul) thy clearer cye; Behold
If thou be fully melted, there's the mold.
VII
P SAI-ME 120. 5.
Wo is to me, that I remain in Meshech, and dwell in the tents of Kedar!
I S Nature's course dissolv'd? doth Time's glasse stand?
Or hath some frolick heart set back the hand
Of Fate's perpetuall Clock? will't never strike?
Is crazy Time grown lazy, faint or sick
With very Age? or hath that great Pajrroyall
Of Adamantine sisters, late made triall
Of some new trade? shall mortall hearts grow old
In sorrow? shall my weary arms infold
And underprop my panting sides for ever?
Is there no charitable hand will sever
My well-spun thread, that my imprison'd soul
May be deliver'd from this dull dark hole
Of dungeon flesh? O shall I, shall I never
Be ransom'd, but remain a slave for ever?
It is the lot of man but once to die,
But ere that death how many deaths have I?
What humane madnesse makes the world affraid
To entertein Heav'n's joy, because convey'd
By th' hand of death? will nakednesse refuse
Rich change of robes, because the man's not spruse
That brought them? or will povertie send back
Full bags of gold, because the bringer's black?
Life is a bubble, blown with whining breaths,
Fill'd with the torments of a thousand deaths;
Which, being prickt by death (while death deprives
One life) presents the soul a thousand lives:
O frantick mortall how hath earth bewitch'd
Thy Bediam soul, which hath so fondly pitch'd
Upon her false delights I Delights that cease
Before enjoyment, finds a time to please:
Her fickle joyes breed doubtfull fears; 'her fears
Bring hopefull griefs; her griefs weep fearfull teares;
Tears coyn deceitfull hopes; hopes, carefull doubt
And surly passion justles passion out:
To-day we pamper with a full repast
Of lavish mirth; at night we weep as fast:
To-night we swim in wealth, and lend; to-morrow
We sink in want, and find no friend to borrow
In what a climate doth my soul reside!
Where pale-fac'd murder, the first-born of pride
Sets up her kingdome in the very smiles,
And plighted faiths of men-like Crocodiles;
A land where each embroyd'red sattin word
Is lin'd with fraud; where Mars his lawlesse sword
Exiles Astraea's balance; where that hand
Now slayes his brother, that new-sow'd his land;
O that my dayes of bondage would expire
In this lewd soyl I Lord, how my soul's on fire
To be dissolv'd, that I might once obtain
These long'd-for joyes, long'd for so oft in vain!
If Moses -like I may not live possest
Of this fair land; Lord, let me see 't at least.
S. A UGUST Soliloq. cap. 12.
My life is a frail life; a corruptible life, a life, which the more it increaseth, the more it decreaseth: The farther it goeth, the nearer it cometh to death. A deceitfull life, and like a shadow, full of the snares of death: Now I rejoyce, now I languish, now I flourish, now infirm, now I live, and straight I die; now I seem happy, alwayes miserable now I laugh now I weep. Thus all things are subject to mutabilltie, that nothing continueth an houre in one state: O joy above joy, exceeding all joy, without which there is no joy, when shall I enter into thee that I may see my God that dwelleth in thee?
E PIG . 7.
Art thou so weak? O canst thou not digest
Ah houre of travel for a night of rest?
Chear up, my soul; call home thy spirits, and bear
One bad good-friday; full-mouth'd Easter's near.
VIII
R OMANES 7 24.
O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?
B E hold thy darling, which thy lustfull care
Pampers; for which thy restlesse thoughts prepare
Such early cates: for whom thy bubbling brow
So often sweats, and bankrupt eyes do ow
Such midnight scores to nature; for whose sake
Base earth is sainted, the infernal lake
Unfeard, the Crown of glory poorely rated.
Thy God neglected, and thy brother haled:
Behold thy darling, whom thy soul affects
So dearly: whom thy fond indulgence decks
And puppets up in soft, in silken weeds:
Behold thy darling, whom thy fondnesse feeds
With farre-fetcht delicates, the dear-bought gains
Of ill-spent time, the price of half thy pains:
Behold thy darling, who, when clad by thee,
Derides thy nakednesse; and when most free
Proclaims her lover, slave; and being fed
Most full, then strikes th' indulgent feeder dead
What meanst thou thus, my poore deluded soul
To love so fondly? Can the burning cole
Of thy affection last without the fuel
Of counter-love? Is thy compeer so cruel.
And thou so kind, to love unlov'd again?
Canst thou sow favours, and thus reap disdain?
Remember, O remember, thou art born
Of royall bloud; remember thou art sworn
A Maid of Honour in the Court of Heaven;
Remember what a costly price was given
To ransome thee from slav'ry thou wert in;
And wilt thou now my soul, turn slave again?
The Son and Heir to Heav'n's Triune J EHOVE
Would fain become a suiter for thy love,
And offers for thy dow'r his Father's Throne
To sit for Seraphims to gaze upon;
He 'll give thee Honour, Pleasure, Wealth and Things
Transcending farre the Majesty of Kings:
And wilt thou prostrate to the odious charms
Of this base scullion? shall his hollow arms
Hugg thy soft sides? shall these course hands untie
The sacred Zone of thy virginitie?
For shame, degen'rous soul, let thy desire
Be quickned up with more heroick fire;
Be wisely proud, let thy ambitious eye
Reade nobler objects; let thy thoughts defie
Such am'rous basenesse; let thy soul disdain
Th' ignoble profers of so base a swain;
Or if thy vowes be past, and Hymen's bands
Have ceremonied your unequall hands,
Annull, at least avoid, thy lawlesse act
With insufficiencie, or a precontract:
Or if the act be good yet maist thou plead
A second freedome; for the flesh is dead.
N AZIANZ . Orat. 16.
How I am joyned to this body, I know not; which when it is healthfull, provoketh me to warre, and being dammaged by warre, affecteth me with grief; which I both love as a fellow-servant, and hate as an utter enemy: It is a pleasant foe, and a perfidious friend. O strange conjunction and alienation: What I fear I embrace, and what I love I am affraid of; before I make warre, I am reconciled before I enjoy peace I am at variance.
E PIG . 8.
What need that house be dawb'd with flesh and bloud?
Hang'd round with silks and gold? repair'd with food?
Cost idly spent! That cost doth but prolong
Thy thraldome. Fool thou mak'st thy jail too strong.
IX
P HILIPPIANS 1. 23.
I am in a strait between two, having a desire to be dissolved, and to be with Christ.
1.
W H at meant our carefull parents so to wear,
And lavish out their ill-expended houres,
To purchase for us large possessions here,
Which (though unpurchas'd) are too truly ours?
What meant they, ah what meant they to indure
Such loads of needlesse labour, to procure
And make that thing our own, which was our own too sure!
2.
What mean these liv'ries and possessive keyes?
What mean these bargains, and these needlesse sales?
What need these jealous, these suspitious wayes
Of law-divis'd, and law-dissolv'd entails?
No need to sweat for gold, wherewith to buy
Estates of high-priz'd land; no need to tie
Earth to their heirs, were they but clogg'd with earth as I.
3.
O were their souls but clogg'd with earth as I,
They would not purchase with so salt an itch;
They would not take of almes, what now they buy;
Nor call him happy, whom the world counts rich:
They would not take such pains, project and prog
To charge their shoulders with so great a log:
Who hath the greater lands, hath but the greater clog.
4.
I cannot do an act which earth disdains not;
I cannot think a thought which earth corrupts not;
I cannot speak a word which earth profanes not;
I cannot make a vow earth interrupts not:
If I but offer up an early grone,
Or spread my wings to Heav'n's long-long'd for throne,
She darkens my complaints and drags my offering down.
5.
Ev'n like the hawk, (whose keeper's wary hands
Have made a prisner to her wothring stock)
Forgetting quite the pow'r of her fast bands,
Makes a rank bate from her forsaken block;
But her too faithfull leash doth soon restrain
Her broken flight, attempted oft in vain;
It gives her loyns a twitch, and tugs her back again.
6.
So, when my soul directs her better eye
To Heav'n's bright Pallace (where my treasure lies)
I spread my willing wings, but cannot fly;
Earth hales me down, I cannot, cannot rise:
When I but strive to mount the least degree,
Earth gives a jerk, and foils me on my knee;
Lord, how my soul is rackt betwixt the world and thee!
7.
Great God, I spread my feeble wings in vain;
In vain I offer my extended hands:
I cannot mount till thou unlink my chain;
I cannot come till thou release my bands:
Which if thou please to break, and then supply
My wings with spirit, th' Eagle shall not fly
A pitch that's half so fair nor half so swift as I.
B ONAVENT . cap. 1. Soliloq.
Ah sweet Jesus, pierce the marrow of my soul with the healthfull shafts of thy love, that it may truly burn and melt and languish with the onely desire of thee; that it may desire to be dissolved, and to be with thee. Let it hunger alone for the bread of life; let it thirst after thee, the spring and fountain of eternall light, the stream of true pleasure: let it alwaies desire thee, seek thee, and find thee, and sweetly rest in thee .
E PIG . 9.
What? will thy shackles neither loose nor break?
Are they too strong, or is thy arm too weak?
Art will prevall where knotty strength denies;
My soul, there's Aquafortis in thine eyes.
X
P SAIM 142. 7.
Bring my soul out of prison, that I may prayse thy name
M Y Soul is like a bird, my flesh the cage,
Wherein she wears her weary pilgrimage
Of houres as few as evil, dayly fed,
With sacred wine, and sacrumentall bread;
The keyes that lock her in, and let her out,
Are Birth and Death; 'twixt both she hops about
From perch to perch, from sense to reason; then
From higher reason down to sense again:
From sense she climbs to faith; where for a season
She sits and sings; then down again to reason:
From reason back to faith, and straight from thence
She rudely flutters to the perch of sense:
From sense to hope; then hops from hope to doubt:
From doubt, to dull despair; there seeks about
For desp'rate freedome and at ev'ry grate,
She wildly thrusts, and begs th' untimely date
Of unexpired thraldome, to release
Th' afflicted captive, that can find no peace.
Thus am I coop'd within this fleshly cage
I wear my youth, and wast my weary age
Spending that breath which was ordain'd to chaunt
Heav'n's prayses forth, in sighes and sad complaint:
Whilst happier birds can spread their nimble wing
From shrubs to cedars, and there chirp and sing
In choice of raptures, the harmonious story
Of man's redemption, and his Maker's glory:
You glorious Martyrs, you illustrious troops,
That once were cloyster'd in your fleshly coops
As fast as I, what rhet'rick had your tongues?
What dextrous Art had your Eleglak songs?
What Paul-like pow'r had your admir'd devotion?
What shackle-breaking faith infus'd such motion
To your strong prayers, that could obtain the boon
To be inlarg'd, to be uncag'd so soon?
When I, poore I, can sing my dayly tears,
Grown old in bondage and can find no ears;
You great partakers of eternall glory,
That with your Heav'n-prevalling Oratory,
Releas'd your souls from your terrestriall cage.
Permit the passion of my holy rage
To recommend my sorrows, dearly known
To you, in dayes of old, and once your own,
To your best thoughts, (but oh 't doth not befit ye
To move your pray'rs; you love and joy, not pittie:)
Great Lord of souls to whom should prisners flie
But thee? Thou hadst thy cage, as well as I:
And for my sake, thy pleasure was to know
The sorrows that it brought, and feltst them too;
O set me free and I will spend those dayes,
Which now I wast in begging in thy prayse.
A NSELM . in Protolog. cap. 1.
O miserable condition of mankind, that has lost that for which he was created! Alas, what hath he lost? And what hath he found? He hath lost happinesse for which he was made, and found misery for which he was not made: What is gone? and what is left? That thing is gone, without which he is unhappy; that thing is left, by which he is miserable: O wretched men! From whence are we expelled? To what are we impelled? Whence are we thrown? And whither are we hurried? From our home into banishment; from the sight of God into our own blindnesse; from the pleasure of immortalitie to the bitternesse of death: Miserable change! from how great a good, to how great an evil? Ah me, what have I enterprised? what have I done? whither did I go? whither am I come?
E PIG. 10.
Paul's midnight-voyce prevail'd; his musick's thunder
Unhing'd the prison doores, split bolts in sunder:
And sitst thou here, and bang'st the feeble wing?
And whin'st to be enlarg'd? soul learn to sing.
XI
P SALM 42 1.
As the Hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.
1.
H OW shall my tongue expresse that hallow'd fire
Which Heav'n hath kindled in my ravisht heart!
What Muse shall I invoke, that will inspire
My lowly quilt to act a lotrie
What Art shall I deviser' expresse desire,
Too intricate to be express by Art 1
Let all the nine be silent; I refuse
Their aid in this high task, for they abuse
The flames of love too much: assist me. David's Muse.
2.
Not as the thirsty soyl desires soft show'rs,
To quicken and refresh her Embryon grain:
Nor as the drooping crests of fuding flow'rs,
Request the bountie of a morning rain,
Do I desire my God; these, in few houres,
Re-wish what late their wishes did obtein;
But as the swift-foot Hart doth wounded flie
To th' much-desired streams, ev'n so do I
Pant after thee my God, whom I must find or die.
3.
Before a pack of deep-mouth'd lusts I flee;
O, they have singled out my panting heart,
And wanton Cupid , sitting in a tree,
Hath pierc'd my bosome with a flaming dart;
My soul being spent for refuge seeks to thee
But cannot find where thou my refuge art:
Like as the swift-foot Hart doth, wounded flie
To the desired streams, ev'n so do I
Pant after thee my God, whom I must find or die.
4.
At length by flight, I over-went the pack;
Thou drew'st the wanton dart from out my wound;
The bloud, that follow'd, left a purple track,
Which brought a Serpent, but in shape a Hound:
We strove, he bit me; but thou brak'st his back
I left him grov'ling on th' envenom'd ground:
But as the Serpent-bitten Hart doth flie
To the long-long'd for streams, ey'n so did I
Pant after thee, my God whom I must find or die.
5.
If lust should chase my soul, made swift by fright
Thou art the streams whereto my soul is bound:
Or if a jav'lin wound my sides in flight,
Thou art the balsame that must cure my wound:
If poyson chance t' infest my soul, in fight,
Thou art the treacle that must make me sound:
Ev'n as the wounded Hart, embost, doth flie
To th' streams extremely long'd for, so do I
Pant after thee my God whom I must find or die.
C YRIL . lib. 5 in Job. cap. 10.
O precious water, which quencheth the noysome thirst of this world, that scoureth all the stains of sinners; that watereth the earth of our souls wish heavenly showers, and bringeth back the thirsty heart of man to his onely God!
S. A UGUST Soliloq 35.
O fountain of life, and vein of living waters, when shall I leave this forsaken, impassible, and dry earth, and last the waters of thy sweetnesse, that I may behold thy virtue, and thy glory, and slake my thirst with the streams of thy mercy; Lord, I thirst: Thou art the spring of life, satisfie me; I thirst Lord I thirst after thee the living God!
E PIG . 11.
The arrow-smitten Hart, deep-wounded, flies
To th' springs with water in his weeping eyes:
Heav'n is thy spring: If Satan's fiery dart
Pierce thy faint sides, do so, my wounded Heart.
XII
P SALM 42 2
When shall I come and appear before God?
W H at is my soul the better to be tin'd
With holy fire? what boots it to be coyn'd
With Heav'n's own stamp? what vantage can there be
To souls of Heav'n descended pedegree,
More then to beasts that grovel? Are not they
Fed by th' Almightie's hand? and ev'ry day,
Fill'd with his blessing too? Do they not see
God in his Creatures as direct as we?
Do they not tast thee? hear thee? nay what sense
Is not partaker of thine Excellence?
What more do we? Alas, what serves our reason
But, like dark lanthorns, to accomplish treason
With greater closenesse? It affords no light
Brings thee no nearer to our purblind sight;
No pleasure rises up the least degree,
Great God, but in the clearer view of thee:
What priv'ledge more then sense hath reason than?
What vantage is it to be born a man?
How often hath my patience built, dear Lord
Vain tow'rs of Hope upon thy gracious Word!
How often hath thy Hope-reviving Grace
Woo'd my suspitious eyes to seek thy face!
How often have I sought thee! Oh how long
Hath expectation taught my perfect tongue
Repeated pray'rs! yet pray'rs could ne'r obtain;
In vain I seek thee, and I beg in vain:
If it be high presumption to behold
Thy face, why didst thou make mine eyes so bold
To seek it? If that object be too bright
For man's aspect, why did thy lips invite
Mine eye t' expect it? If it might be seen,
Why is this envious curtain drawn between
My darkned eye and it? O tell me, why
Thou dost command the thing thou dost deny?
Why dost thou give me so unpriz'd a treasure
And then deny'st my greedy soul the pleasure
To view thy gift? Alas, that gift is void,
And is no gift, that may not be enjoy'd:
If those refulgent beams of Heav'n's great light
Guild not the day, what is the day, but night?
The drouzie shepherd sleeps; flow'rs droop and fade;
The birds are sullen, and the beast is sad:
But if bright Titan dart his golden ray
And with his riches, glorifie the day,
The jolly shepherd pipes; flow'rs freshly spring;
The beast growes gamesome and the birds they sing.
Thou art my Sun, great God: O when shall I
View the full beams of thy Meridian eye?
Draw, draw this fleshly curtain, that denies
The gracious presence of thy glorious eyes;
Or give me faith; and by the eye of grace,
I shall behold thee, though not face to face.
S. A UGUST in Psal. 39.
Who created all things is better then all things, who beautified all things is more beautifull then all things; who made strength is stronger then all things: who made great things is greater then all things: Whatsoever thou lovest he is that to thee: Learn to love the workman in his work, the Creatour in his creature: Let not that which was made by him possesse thee lest thou lose him by whom thy self was made .
S. A UGUST . Med. cap. 37.
O thou most sweet, most gracious, most amiable, most fair, when shall I see thee? when shall I be satisfied with thy beautie? When wilt thou lead me from this dark dungeon that I may confesse thy name?
E PIG . 12.
How art thou shaded in this vell of night,
Behind thy curtain flesh? thou seest no light,
But what thy pride doth challenge as her own:
Thy flesh is hie: soul take this curtain down.
XIII
P SALM 55 6.
O that I had the wings of a Dove, for then I would flie away and be at rest.
1.
A N d am I sworn a dunghill slave for ever
To earth's base drudg'ry? shall I never find
A night of rest? shall my indentures never
Be cancell'd? did injurious Nature bind
My soul earth's prentice, with no clause to leave her?
No day of freedome? must I ever grind?
O that I had the pinions of a Dove,
That I might quit my bands and sore above,
And poure my just complaints before the great Jehove!
2.
How happy are the Doves, that have the pow'r,
When ere they please, to spread their ayry wings!
Or cloud-dividing Eagles, that can towre
Above the sent of these inferiour things!
How happy is the Lark, that ev'ry howre
Leaves earth, and then for joy mounts up and sings!
Had my dull soul but wings as well as they,
How I would spring from earth and clip away
As wise Astrea did, and scorn this ball of clay!
3.
O how my soul would spurn this ball of clay,
And loath the dainties of earth's painfull pleasure!
O how I'de laugh to see men night and day
Turmoyl, to gain that trash they call their treasure!
O how I'de smile to see what plots they lay
To catch a blast, or own a smile from Cesar!
Had I the pineons of a mounting Dove.
How I would sore and sing and hate the love
Of transitory toyes, and feed on joyes above!
4.
There should I find that everlasting pleasure,
Which change removes not, and which chance prevents not;
There should I find that everlasting treasure,
Which force deprives not fortune dis-augments not;
There should I find that everlasting Cesar ,
Whose hand recalls not, and whose heart repents not;
Had I the pineons of a clipping Dove,
How I would climb the skies, and hate the love
Of transitory toyes, and joy in things above!
5.
No rank-mouth'd slander there shall give offence,
Or blast our blooming names, as here they do;
No liver-scalding lust shall there incense
Our boyling veins; there, is no Cupid's bow:
Lord, give my soul the milk-white innocence
Of Doves, and I shall have their pineons too:
Had I the pineons of a sprightly Dove;
How I would quit this earth, and sore above
And Heav'n's blest kingdome find with Heav'n's blest King Jehove.
S. A UGUST . in Psal. 138.
What wings should I desire but the two precepts of love, on which the Law and the Prophets depend! O if I could obtain these wings I could fly from thy face to thy face, from the face of thy Justice to the face of thy Mercy: Let us find those wings by love which we have lost by lust .
S. A UGUST . in Psal. 76.
Let us cast off whatsoever hindereth, entangleth, or burdeneth our flight untill we attain that which satisfieth; beyond which nothing is: beneath which, all things are of which, all things are .
E PIG . 13.
Tell me, my wishing soul, didst ever trie
How fast the wings of red-crost faith can flie?
Why begg'st thou then the pineons of a Dove?
Faith's wings are swifter but the swiftest love.
XIV.
P SALM 84. 1
How amiable are thy Tabernacles, O God of Hosts
A N cient of dayes, to whom all times are Now
Before whose Glory Seraphims do bow
Their blushing cheeks, and veil their blemisht faces!
That uncontain'd at once, dost fill all places,
How glorious, O how farre beyond the height
Of puzzled quils, or the obtuse concelt.
Of flesh and bloud, or the too flat reports
Of mortall tongues, are thy expreslesse courts!
Whose glory to paint forth with greater Art,
Ravish my fancy, and inspire my heart;
Excuse my bold attempt, and pardon me
For shewing sense what faith alone should see.
Ten thousand millions, and ten thousand more
Of angel-measur'd leagues from th' Eastern shore
Of dungeon earth, this glorious Palace stands;
Before whose pearly gates ten thousand bands
Of armed angels wait to entertain
Those purged souls for whom the Lamb was slain;
Whose guiltlesse death, and voluntary yielding
Of whose gly'n life, gave this brave court her building;
The lukewarm bloud of this dear Lamb being spilt
To rubies turn'd, whereof her posts were built;
And what dropt down in cold and gelid gore,
Did turn rich Saphyres, and impav'd her floore:
The brighter flames, that from his ey-balls ray'd,
Grew Chrysolites, whereof her walls were made:
The milder glances sparkled on the ground,
And groundsild every doore with Diamond;
But dying, darted upwards, and did fix
A battlement of purest Sardonix.
Her streets with burnisht gold are paved round
Starres lie like pebbles scattred on the ground:
Pearl mixt with Onyx, and the Jasper stone,
Made gravell'd causwayes to be trampled on:
There shines no Sun by day, no Moon by night;
The Pallace glory is the Pallace light:
There is no time to measure motion by,
There Time is swallow'd with Eternitie:
Wry mouth'd Disdain, and corner-haunting Lust
And twy-fac'd Fraud, and beetle-brow'd Distrust
Soul-boyling Rage, and trouble-state Sedition
And giddy Doubt, and goggle-ey'd Suspition
And lumpish Sorrow, and degen'rous Fear,
Are banisht thence; and Death's a stranger there:
But simple Love, and sempiternall Joyes,
Whose sweetnesse neither gluts, nor fulnesse cloyes;
Where face to face our ravish't eye shall see
Great E LOHIM , that glorious One in Three,
And Three in One; and seeing him shall blesse him,
And blessing, love him, and in love, possesse him:
Here stay my soul, and ravish in relation:
Thy words being spent, spend now in contemplation.
S. G REG . in Psal. 7 paenitent.
Sweet Jesus, the word of the Father, the brightnesse of paternall glory, whom Angels delight to view, teach me to do thy will; that led by thy good Spirit. I may come to that blessed Citle, where day is eternall, where there is certain securitie, and secure eternitie, and eternall peace, and peacefull happinesse, and happy sweetnesse, and sweet pleasure; where thou, O God, with the Father and the holy Spirit, livest and reignest world without end .
Ibid.
There is light without darknesse; joy without grief, desire without punishment; love without sadnesse; satietie without loathing; safetie without fear; health without disease and life without death .
E PIG . 14.
My soul, pry not too nearly; the complexion
Of Sol's bright face is seen but by reflexion:
But wouldst thou know what's heav'n? I'le tell thee what;
Think what thou canst not think and heav'n is that.
XV.
Canticles 8. 14
Make hast my Beloved, and be like the Roe, or the young Hart upon the mountains of Spices.
G O gentle tyrant go; thy flames do pierce
My soul too deep; thy flames are too too fierce;
My marrow melts, my fainting spirits fry
I' th' torrid Zone of thy Meridian eye:
Away away, thy sweets are too perfuming;
Turn, turn thy face, thy fires are too consuming:
Hast hence, and let thy winged steps out-go
The frighted Ro-buck, and his flying Ro.
But wilt thou leave me then? O thou that art
Life of my soul, soul of my dying heart;
Without the sweet aspect of whose fair eyes
My soul doth languish and her solace dies:
Art thou so easily woo'd? so apt to heare
The frantick language of my foolish fear?
Leave leave me not, nor turn thy beauty from me;
Look, look upon me, though thine eyes o'rcome me.
O how they wound I but how my wounds content me!
How sweetly these delightfull pains torment me!
How I am tortur'd in excessive measure
Of pleasing crueltie's too cruel pleasure!
Turn, turn away, remove thy scorching beams;
I languish with these bitter-sweet extremes:
Hast then and let thy winged steps out-go
The flying Ro-buck, and his frighted Ro:
Turn back, my dear; O let my ravisht eye
Once more behold thy face before thou fly;
What, shall we part without a'mutuall kisse?
O who can leave so sweet a face as this?
Look full upon me for my soul desires
To turn a holy Martyr in those fires:
O leave me not, nor turn thy beauty from me:
Look, look upon me, though thy flames ov'rcome me.
If thou becloud the Sun-shine of thine eye,
I freez to death, and if it shine, I frie:
Which like a fever that my soul hath got,
Makes me to burn too cold, or freez too hot:
Alas, I cannot bear so sweet a smart,
Nor canst thou be lesse glorious then thou art:
Hast then, and let thy winged steps out-go.
The frighted Ro-buck and his flying Ro.
But go not farre beyond the reach of breath;
Too large a distance makes another death:
My youth is in her Spring; Autumnall vowes
Will make me riper for so sweet a Spouse;
When after-times have burnish'd my desire,
I'll shoot thee flames for flames, and fire for fire,
O leave me not, nor turn thy beautie from me;
Look look upon me though thy flames ov'rcome me.
Autor Scalae Paradisi, tom. 9. Aug. cap. 8.
Fear not, O Bride, nor despair; think not thy self contemned, if thy Bridegroom withdraw his face a while: All things cooperate for the best: both from his absence, and his presence thou gainest light: He cometh to thee, and he goeth from thee: he cometh, to make thee consolate, he goeth, to make thee cantious, lest thy abundant consolation puff thee up: he cometh, that thy languishing soul may be comforted; he goeth, lest his familioritie should be contemned; and being absent, to be more desired; and being desired, to be more earnestly sought; and being long sought, to be more acceptably found.
E PIG . 15.
My soul, sinne's monster, whom, with greater ease
Ten thousand fold, thy God could make then please;
What wouldst thou have? nor pleas'd with sun nor shade?
Heav'n knowes not what to make of what he made.
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