1
R OMANES 7. 23.
I see another Law in my members warring against the Law of my mind, and bringing me into captivitie to the Law of sinne
O H ow my will is hurried to and fro,
And how my unresolv'd resolves do vary!
I know not where to fix; sometimes I go
This way, then that, and then the quite contrary:
I like, dislike; lament for what I could not;
I do, undo; yet still do what I should not:
And at the self same instant will the thing I would not.
2.
Thus are my weather-beaten thoughts opprest
With th' earth-bred winds of my prodigious will;
Thus am I hourely tost from East to West
Upon the rowling streams of good and ill:
Thus am I driven upon these slipp'ry suds,
From reall ills to false apparent goods:
My life's a troubled sea, compos'd of Ebs and Flouds.
3.
The curious Penman, having trimm'd his page
With the dead language of his dabbled quill;
Lets falls a heedlesse drop, then in a rage
Cashiers the fruits of his unlucky skill;
Ev'n so my pregnant soul in th' infant bud
Of her best thoughts, showrs down a cole-black flood
Of unadvised ills, and cancels all her good.
4.
Sometimes a sudden flash of sacred heat,
Warms my chill soul, and sets my thoughts in frame;
But soon that fire is shouldred from her seat
By lustfull Cupid's much inferiour flame:
I feel two flames, and yet no flame entire;
Thus are the mungrill thoughts of mixt desire
Consum'd between that heav'nly and this earthly fire.
5.
Sometimes my trash-disdaining thoughts out-passe
The common period of terrene conceit;
O then, me thinks I scorn the thing I was,
Whilst I stand ravisht at my new estate:
But when'th Icarian wings of my desire
Feel but the warmth of their own native fire,
O then they melt and plunge within their wonted mire.
6.
I know the nature of my wav'ring mind;
I know the frailty of my fleshly will:
My Passion's Eagle-ey'd; my judgement blind;
I know what's good, but yet make choice of ill
When th' Ostrich wings of my desires shall be
So dull, they cannot mount the least degree;
Yet grant my soul desire but of desiring thee.
S. B ERN . Med. 9.
My heart is a vain heart, a vagabond and instable heart, while it is led by its own judgement; and wanting Divine counsel cannot subsist in it self; and whilest it divers wayes seeketh rest findeth none, but remaineth miserable through labour, and void of peace It agreeth not with it self; it dissenteth from it self; it altereth resolutions, changeth the judgement, frameth new thoughts, pulleth down the old, and buildeth them up again: It willeth and willeth not; and never remaineth in the same state .
S. August . de Verb. Apost.
When it would, it cannot, because when it might, it would not: Therefore by an evil will man lost his good power .
E PIG . I.
My soul, how are thy thoughts disturb'd, confin'd,
Enlarg'd betwixt thy members and thy mind!
Fix here or there; thy doubt-depending cause
Can nev'r expect one verdict 'twixt two Laws.
II
P SALM 119. 5
O that my wayes were directed to keep thy Statutes!
1.
T H us I, the object of the world's disdain,
With Pilgrime-pace surround the weary earth:
I onely relish what the world counts vain;
Her mirth 's my grief; her sullen grief, my mirth;
Her light my darknesse; and her truth my errour;
Her freedom is my jall; and her delight my terrour.
2.
Fond earth! proportion not my seeming love
To my long stay; let not thy thoughts deceive thee:
Thou art my prison, and my home's above;
My life 's a preparation but to leave thee:
Like one that seeks a doore, I walk about thee:
With thee I cannot live; I cannot live without thee
3.
The world's a lab'rinth, whose anfractuous wayes
Are all compos'd of rubs and crook'd meanders:
No resting here; He 's hurrled back that stayes
A thought; and he that goes unguided wanders:
Her way is dark, her path untrod, unev'n;
So hard 's the way from earth; so hard's the way to Heav'n.
4.
This gyring lab'rinth is betrench'd about
On either hand, with streams of sulph'rous fire;
Streams closely sliding, erring in and out,
But seeming pleasant to the fond descrier;
Where if his footsteps trust their own invention,
He falls without redresse, and sinks beyond dimension.
5.
Where shall I seek a Guide? where shall I meet
So lucky hand to lead my trembling paces?
What trusty Lantern will direct my feet
To scape the danger of these dang'rous places?
What hopes have I to passe without a Guide?
Where one gets safely through, a thousand fall beside.
6.
An unrequested Starre did gently slide
Before the Wisemen to a greater Light;
Back-sliding Isr'el found a double Guide:
A Pillar, and a Cloud; by day, by night;
Yet in my desp'rate dangers, which be farre
More great then theirs, I have nor Pillar Cloud, nor Starre.
7.
O that the pineons of a clipping Dove
Would cut my passage through the empty Aire;
Mine eyes being seeld, how would I mount above
The reach of danger and forgotten care!
My backward eyes should nev'r commit that fault,
Whose lasting guilt should build a Monument of Salt .
8.
Great God, that art the flowing Spring of Light.
Enrich mine eyes with thy refulgent Ray;
Thou art my Path; direct my steps aright;
I have no other Light, no other Way:
I'll trust my God, and him alone pursue;
His Law shall be my Path; his Heav'nly Light my Clue.
S. August . Sollioqu. cap. 4.
O Lord, who art the Light, the Way, the Truth, the Life: in whom there is no darknesse, errour, vanitie, nor death: The Light, without which there is darknesse; The Way, without which there is wandering. The Truth, without which there is errour; The Life, without which there is death: Say, Lord, Let there be Light, and I shall see Light, and eschew darknesse: I shall see the Way, and avoid wandering; I shall see the Truth, and shun errour; I shall see Life, and escape death: Illuminate, O illuminate my blind soul, which sitteth in darknesse, and the shadow of death: and direct my feet in the way of place .
E PIG . 2.
Pilgrime trudge on; What makes thy soul complain
Crownes thy complaint. The way to rest is pain:
The road to resolution lies by doubt:
The next way home 's the farthest way about.
III.
P SALM 17. 5.
Stay my steps in thy paths, that my feet do not slide
1.
W H en ere the old Exchange of profit rings
Her silver Saints-bell of uncertain gains,
My merchant soul can stretch both legs and wings:
How I can run, and take unwearied pains!
The charms of profit are so strong, that I
Who wanted legs to go find wings to fly.
2.
If time-beguiling Pleasure but advance
Her lustfull trump, and blow her bold alarms,
O how my sportfull soul can frisk and dance,
And hug that Syren in her twined arms!
The sprightly voyce of sinew-strengthning pleasure
Can lend my bedrid soul both legs and leasure.
3.
If blazing Honour chance to fill my veins
With flatt'ring warmth, and flash of Courtly fire
My soul can take a pleasure in her pains;
My lofty strutting steps disdain to tire;
My antick knees can turn upon the hinges
Of Complement, and skrue a thousand cringes.
4.
But when I come to Thee, my God, that art
The royall Myne of everlasting treasure,
The reall Honour of my better part,
And living Fountain of eternall pleasure,
How nervelesse are my limbs! how faint and slow!
I have nor wings to fly nor legs to go.
5.
So when the streams of swift-foot Rhene convay
Her upland riches to the Belgick shore;
The idle vessel slides the wat'ry lay,
Without the blast, or tug, of wind, or oare;
Her slipp'ry keel divides the silver fome
With ease; so facil is the way from home.
6.
But when the home-bound vessel turns her sails
Against the breast of the resisting stream,
O then she slugs; nor sail, nor oare prevails;
The Stream is sturdy, and her Tides extreme;
Each stroke is losse, and ev'ry tug is vain:
A Boat-length's purchase is a League of pain.
7.
Great All in All, that art my rest, my home;
My way is tedious, and my steps are slow:
Reach forth thy helpfull hand, or bid me come;
I am thy child, O teach thy child to go;
Conjoyn thy sweet commands to my desire
And I will venture, though I fall or tire.
S. August , Ser. 15. de Verb. Apost.
Be alwayes displeased at what thou art, if thou desirest to attain to what thou art not: For where thou hast pleased thy self, there thou abidest: But if thou sayest, I have enough, thou perishest; Alwayes adde, alwayes walk, alwayes proceed; neither stand still, nor go back, nor deviate: He that standeth still proceedeth not; He goeth back, that continueth not; He deviateth, that revolteth; He goeth better that creepeth in his way then he that runneth out of his way
E PIG . 3.
Fear not, my Soul, to lose for want of cunning;
Weep not; Heav'n is not alwayes got by running:
Thy thoughts are swift, although thy legs be slow;
True love will creep, not having strength to go.
IV.
P SALM 119. 120.
My flesh trembleth for fear of thee, and I am afraid of thy judgements.
L E t others boast of luck, and go their wayes
With their fair game; know vengeance seldome playes
To be too forward, but doth wisely frame
Her backward Tables for an after-game:
She gives thee leave to venture many a blot;
And, for her own advantage, hits thee not;
But when her pointed Tables are made fair,
That she be ready for thee, then beware:
Then, if a necessary blot be set,
She hits thee; wins the game, perchance the set;
If prosp'rous chances make thy casting high,
Be wisely temp'rate; cast a serious eye
On after-dangers, and keep back thy game;
Too forward seed-times make thy harvest lame:
If left-hand Fortune give thee left-hand chances,
Be wisely patient; let no envious glances
Repine to view thy gamester's heap so fair;
The hindmost Hound takes oft the doubling Hare.
The world's great Dice are false; sometimes they go
Extremely high, sometimes extremely low;
Of all her gamesters he that playes the least
Lives most at case playes most secure and best;
The way to win, is to play fair, and swear
Thy self a servant to the Crown of fear;
Fear is the Primmer of a Gamester's skill;
Who fears not Bad stands most unarm'd to ill;
The Ill that 's wisely fear'd is half withstood;
And fear of Bad is the best foyl to Good:
True Fear 's th' Blixir , which in dayes of old
Turn'd leaden Crosses into Crowns of Gold:
The World 's the Tables: Stakes, Eternall life;
The Gamesters, Heav'n and I; Unequall strife!
My Fortunes are my Dice, whereby I frame
My indisposed Life: this Life 's the Game;
My sinnes are sev'rall Blots; the Lookers on
Are Angels; and in death the Game is done:
Lord, I 'm a Bungler, and my Game doth grow
Still more and more unshap'd; my Dice run low;
The Stakes are great; my carelesse Blots are many;
And yet thou passest by, and hitst not any:
Thou art too strong; and I have none to guide me
With the least jog; the lookers on deride me:
It is a Conquest undeserving Thee,
To win a Stake from such a Worm as me:
I have no more to lose; If we persever,
'T is lost; and that once lost I 'm lost for ever
Lord, wink at faults, and be not too severe
And I will play my Game with greater fear;
O give me Fear, ere Fear has past her date:
Whose blot being hit then fears, fears then too late.
S. B ERN . Ser 54. in Cant.
There is nothing so effectuall to obtain Grace, to retain Grace, and to regain Grace, as alwayes to be found before God not over-wise, but to fear: Happy art thou if thy heart be replenished with three fears; a fear for received Grace, a greater fear for lost Grace a greatest fear to recover Grace.
S. August . super Psalm.
Present fear begetteth Eternall securitie: Fear God, which is above all, and no need to fear man at all .
E PIG . 4.
Lord, shall we grumble when thy flames do scourge us?
Our sinnes breathe fire, that fire returns to purge us,
Lord, what an Alchymist art thou, whose skill
Transmutes to perfect Good from perfect ill!
V
P SALM 119. 37.
Turn away mine eyes from regarding vanitie.
1.
How like to threds of flax
That touch the flame are my inflam'd desires!
How like to yielding wax
My soul dissolves before these wanton fires!
The fire, but touch'd, the flame but felt,
Like flax I burn; like wax I melt
2.
O how this flesh doth draw
My fetter'd soul to that deceitfull fire!
And how th' eternall Law
Is baffled by the law of my desire!
How truly bad, how seeming good
Are all the laws of flesh and bloud!
3.
O wretched state of men,
The height of whose ambition is to borrow
What must be paid agen
With griping int'rest, of the next dayes sorrow!
How wild his thoughts! How apt to range!
How apt to vary! Apt to change!
4.
How intricate and nice
Is man's perplexed way to man's desire!
Sometimes upon the ice
He slips, and sometimes falls into the fire;
His progresse is extreme and bold
Or very hot, or very cold.
5.
The common food he doth
Sustain his soul-tormenting thoughts withall
Is honey in his mouth
To-night, and in his heart, to-morrow gall:
'T is oftentimes, within an houre,
Both very sweet and very sowre
6.
If sweet Corinna smile.
A heav'n of joy breaks down into his heart:
Corinna frowns awhile,
Hel's torments are but copies of his smart:
Within a lustfull heart doth dwell
A seeming Heav'n a very Hell.
7.
Thus worthlesse, vain, and vold
Of comfort, are the fruits of earth's imployment
Which ere they be enjoy'd
Distract us and destroy us in th' enjoyment:
These be the pleasures that are priz'd
When Heav'n's cheap pen'worth stands despis'd
8.
Lord, quench these hasty flashes,
Which dart as lightning from the thund'ring skies
And ev'ry minute dashes
Against the wanton windows of mine eyes:
Lord, close the casement whilst I stand
Behind the curtain of thy hand.
S. August . Soliloqu. cap. 4.
O thou Sun that illuminatest both Heaven and Earth! Wo be unto those eyes which do not behold thee: Wo be unto those blind eyes which cannot behold thee: Wo be unto those which turn away their eyes that they will not behold thee: Wo be unto those that turn away their eyes that they may behold vanity .
S. C HRYS , sup. Matth. 19.
What is an evil woman but the enemy of friendship, an unavoidable pain, a necessary mischief, a naturall tentation, a desiderable calamity, a comestick danger, a detectable inconvenience, and the nature of evil painted over with the colour of good .
E PIG . 5.
'Tis vain, great God, to close mine eyes from ill
When I resolve to keep the old man still:
My rambling heart must cov'nant first with thee
Or none can passe betwixt mine eyes and me.
VI
E STHER 7. 3.
If I have found favour in thy sight, and if it please the King, let my life be given me at my petition.
T H ou art the great Assuerus , whose command
Doth stretch from Pole to Pole; the world's thy land;
Rebellious Vashti's the corrupted will,
Which being call'd refuses to fulfill
Thy just command: Esther , whose tears condole
The razed City 's the regen'rate Soul;
A captive maid, whom thou wilt please to grace
With nuptiall Honour in stout Vashti's place:
Her kinsman, whose unbended knee did thwart
Proud Haman's glory, is the fleshly part:
The sober Eunuch , that recall'd to mind
The new-built gibbet ( Haman had divin'd
For his own ruine) fiftie cubits high,
Is lustfull-thought-controlling chastity;
Insulting Haman is that fleshly lust
Whose red-hot fury, for a season, must
Triumph in pride and study how to tread
On Mordecay , till royall Esther plead.
Great King, my sent-for Vashti will not come;
O let the oyl o' th' blessed Virgin's womb
Cleanse my poore Esther : look, O look upon her
With gracious eyes; and let thy Beams of honour
So scoure her captive stains, that she may prove
A holy Object of thy Heav'nly love:
Annoint her with the Spiknard of thy graces.
Then try the sweetnesse of her chast embraces:
Make her the partner of thy nuptiall bed
And set thy royall Crown upon her head:
If then ambitious Haman chance to spend
His spleen on Mordecay , that scorns to bend
The wilfull stiffnesse of his stubborn knee.
Or basely crouch to any Lord but thee;
If weeping Esther should preferre a grone
Before the high tribunal of thy Throne,
Hold forth thy golden Sceptre, and afford
The gentle audience of a gracious Lord:
And let thy royall Esther be possest
Of half thy Kingdome at her dear request:
Curb lustfull Haman ; him that would disgrace
Nay ravish thy fair Queen before thy face:
And as proud Haman was himself ensnar'd
On that self gibbet, that himself prepar'd;
So nail my lust, both punishment and guilt,
On that dear crosse that mine own lusts have built
S. August . in Ep.
O Holy Spirit, alwayes inspire me with holy works; Constrain me, that I may do: Counsel me, that I may love thee: Confirm me, that I may hold thee: Conserve me that I may not lose thee .
S. August . sup. Joan.
The Spirit rusts where the flesh resteth; For as the flesh is nourished with sweet things, the Spirit is refreshed with sowre
Ibidem.
Wouldest thou that thy flesh obey thy spirit? Then let thy spirit obey thy God: Thou must be governed, that thou waist govern .
E PIG . 6.
Of Mercy and Justice is thy Kingdome built:
This plagues my sin, and that removes my guilt:
When ere I sue, Assuerus like decline
Thy Sceptre; Lord, say, Half my Kingdome's thine.
VII
C ANTICIES 7. 11.
Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the fields, and let its remain in the villages.
1.
Christ. Soul.
Chr. Come, come my dear, and let us both retire
And whiff the dainties of the fragrant fields:
Where warbling Phil'mel and the shrill-mouth'd quire
Chaunt forth their raptures; where the Turtle builds
Her lonely nest; and where the new-born bryer
Breaths forth the sweetnesse that her Aprill yields:
Come come my lovely fair, and let us trie
These rurall delicates; where thou and I
May melt in private flames, and fear no stander by
2.
Soul . My heart's eternall joy, in lieu of whom
The earth 's a blast, and all the world a bubble;
Our Citie-mansion is the fairer home,
But Countrey-sweets are tang'd with lesser trouble:
Let 's try them both, and chuse the better; come;
A change in pleasure makes the pleasure double:
On thy commands depends my go, or tarrie;
I'll stirre with Martha , or I'll stay with Mary .
Our hearts are firmly fixt although our pleasures varie.
3.
Chr. Our Countrey-mansion (situate on high)
With various Objects, still renews delight:
Her arched roof's of unstain'd Ivory:
Her wall's of fiery sparkling Chrysolite;
Her pavement is of hardest Porphery:
Her spacious windows are all glaz'd with bright
And flaming Carbuncles; no need require
Titan's faint rayes, or Vulcan's feebler fire;
And ev'ry Gate 's a Pearl; and ev'ry Pearl, entire.
4.
Soul . Fool that I was! how were my thoughts deceiv'd!
How falsly was my fond conceit possest!
I took it for an Hermitage, but pav'd
And daub'd with neighb'ring dirt, and thacht at best
Alas, I nev'r expected more, nor crav'd;
A Turtle hop'd but for a Turtle's nest;
Come, come, my dear and let no idle stay
Neglect th' advantage of the head-strong day;
How pleasure grates that feels the curb of dull delay!
5.
Chr. Come then, my Joy; let our divided paces
Conduct us to our fairest territory;
O there we 'll twine our souls in sweet embraces;
Soul. And in thine arms I'll tell my passion story:
Chr. O there I'll crown thy head with all my graces;
Soul. And all those graces shall reflect thy glory:
Chr. O there I'll feed thee with celestiall Manna
I'll be thy Elkanah, Soul . And I, thy Hanna .
Chr. I'll sound my trump of joy. So , And I'll resound Hosanna .
S. B ERN .
O blessed Contemplation! The death of vices, and the life of virtues! Thee the Law and Prophets admire: Who ever atteined perfection, if not by thee! O blessed Solitude, the Magazine of celestiall treasure! by thee things earthly and transitory are changed into Heavenly and Eternall .
S. B ERN . in Ep.
Happy is that house, and blessed is that Congregation where Martha still complaineth of Mary.
E PIG . 7.
Mechanick soul, thou must not onely do
With Martha ; but, with Mary , ponder too:
Happy's that house where these fair sisters vary;
But most, when Martha 's reconcil'd to Mary .
VIII
C ANTICIES 1. 3.
Draw me; we will follow after thee by the savour of thy Ointments
Thus like a lump of the corrupted Masse
I lle secure, long lost, before I was:
And like a block, beneath whose burden lies
That undiscover'd worm that never dies,
I have no will to rouze. I have no power to rise.
Can stinking Lazarus compound, or strive
With death's entangling letters and revive?
Or can the water-buried Axe implore
A hand to raise it; or it self restore,
And from her sandy deeps approch the dry-foot shore?
So hard 's the task for sinfull flesh and bloud
To lend the smallest step to what is good;
My God, I cannot move the least degree;
Ah! If but onely those that active be,
None should thy glory see none should thy glory see.
But if the Potter please t' inform the clay,
Or some strong hand remove the block away;
Their lowly fortunes soon are mounted higher
That proves a vessel, which before was mire:
And this being hewn, may serve for better use then fire
And if that life-restoring voyce command
Dead Las'rus forth; or that great Prophet's hand
Should charm the sullen waters, and begin
To becken, or to dart a stick but in,
Dead Laz'rus must revive and th' Axe must float again.
Lord, as I am, I have no pow'r at all
To heare thy voyce, or echo to thy call;
The gloomy Clouds of mine own guilt benight me;
Thy glorious beams, nor dainty sweets invite me;
They neither can direct; nor these at all delight me.
See how my sin-bemangled body lies,
Nor having pow'r to will, nor will to rise!
Shine home upon thy Creature, and inspire
My livelesse will with thy regen'rate fire:
The first degree to do, is onely to desire.
Give me the pow'r to will the will to do:
O raise me up, and I will strive to go:
Draw me, O draw me with thy treble twist
That have no pow'r but merely to resist;
O lend me strength to do, and then command thy list.
My Soul's a Clock, whose wheels (for want of use
And winding up, being subject to th' abuse
Of eating rust) wants vigour to fulfill
Her twelve houres task and show her maker's skill
But idly sleeps unmov'd, and standeth vainly still.
Great God, it is thy work, and therefore good;
If thou be pleas'd to cleanse it with thy blood
And wind it up with thy soul-moving keyes,
Her busie wheels shall serve thee all her dayes;
Her hand shall point thy pow'r her hammer strike thy praise.
S. B ERN , S ERM az in C ANT .
Let us run, let us run, but in the savour of thy Ointments, not in the confidence of our merits, nor in the greatnesse of our strength: we trust to run, but in the multitude of thy mercies, for though we run and are willing, it is not in him that willeth, nor in him that runneth, but in God that sheweth mercy. O let thy mercy return, and we will run; Thou, like a Gyant, runnest by thy own power; we unlesse thy ointment breath upon us, cannot run .
E PIG . 8.
Look not, my Watch, being once repair'd to stand
Expecting motion from thy Maker's hand.
H' as wound thee up, and cleans'd thy Cogs with blood:
If now thy wheels stand still thou art not good.
IX
C ANTICIES 8. 1.
O that thou wert as my brother, that sucked the breasts of my mother, I would find thee without, and I would kisse thee
1.
Come, come my blessed Infant, and immure thee
Within tho Temple of my sacred arms;
Secure mine arms, mine arms shall then secure thee
From Herod's fury, or the high-Priest's harms;
Or if thy danger'd life sustain a losse,
My folded arms shall turn thy dying crosse.
2.
But ah, what savage Tyrant can behold
The beauty of so sweet a face as this is,
And not himself be by himself controul'd,
And change his fury to a thousand kisses?
One smile of thine is worth more mines of treasure
Then there be Myriads in the days of Cesar .
3.
O, had the Tetrarch , as he knew thy birth,
So known thy stock he had not sought to paddle
In thy dear bloud: but prostrate on the earth,
Had valid his Crown before thy royall Cradle;
And laid the Sceptre of his Glory down,
And begg'd a Heav'nly for an Earthly Crown.
4.
Illustrious Babe! how is thy handmaid grac'd
With a rich armfull! how dost thou decline
Thy Majesty, that wert so late embrac'd
In thy great Father's arms, and now in mine!
How humbly gracious art thou, to refresh,
Me with thy Spirit and assume my flesh.
5.
But must the treason of a traitour's Hail
Abuse the sweetnesse of these ruby lips?
Shall marble-hearted cruelty assail
These Alabaster sides with knotted whips?
And must these smiling Roses entertain
The blows of scorn and flurts of base disdain?
6.
Ah! must these dainty little sprigs that twine
So fast about my neck, be pierc'd and torn
With ragged nails? and must these brows resigne
Their Crown of Glory for a crown of thorn?
Ah, must this blessed Infant tast the pain
Of death's injurious pangs? nay worse be slain?
7.
Sweet Babe! At what dear rates do wretched I
Commit a sinne! Lord, ev'ry sin's a dart:
And ev'ry trespasse lets a javelin flie;
And ev'ry javelin wounds thy bleeding heart:
Pardon, sweet Babe, what I have done amisse:
And seal that granted pardon with a kisse.
B ONAVENT , Soliloqu. Cap. 1
O sweet Jesu, I knew not that thy kisses were so sweet, nor thy society so delectable, nor thy attraction so vertuous: For when I love thee, I am clean; when I touch thee, I am chast, when I receive thee I am a virgin: O most sweet Jesu, thy embraces defile not but cleanse; thy attraction polluteth not, but sanctifieth: O Jesu, the Fountain of universall sweetnesse, pardon me that I believed so late that so much sweetnesse is in thy embraces .
E PIG 9.
My burden's greatest: Let not Atlas boast:
Impartiall Reader, Judge which beats the most:
He bears but Heav'n: my folded arms sustain
Heav'n's maker, whom Heav'n's Heav'n cannot contain.
X
C ANTICLES 3. 1.
In my bed by night I sought him that my soul loved; I sought him, but I found him not
T H e learned Cynick, having lost the way
To honest men did in the height of day
By Taper-light, divide his steps about
The peopled streets to find this dainty out,
But fall'd: The Cynick search'd not where he ought:
The thing he sought for was not where he sought.
The Wisemen's task seem'd barder to be done,
The Wisemen did by Starre-light seek the Sunne,
And found: the Wisemen search'd it where they ought;
The thing they hop'd to find was where they sought
One seeks his wishes where he should: but then
Perchance he seeks not as he should, nor when:
Another searches when he should, but there
He fails; not seeking as he should, nor where:
Whose soul desires the good it wants, and would
Obtain, must seek Where, As, and When he should;
How often have my wild affections led
My wasted soul to this my widdow'd bed,
To seek my Lover, whom my soul desires!
(I speak not, Cupid of thy wanton fires:
Thy fires are all but dying sparks to mine;
My flames are full of Heav'n, and all Divine)
How often have I sought this bed, by night.
To find that greater by this lesser light!
How oft have my unwitnest grones lamented
Thy dearest absence! Ah how often vented
The bitter tempests of despairing breath.
And tost my soul upon the waves of death!
How often has my melting heart made choice
Of silent tears, (tears louder then a voyce)
To plead my grief, and woo thy absent eare!
And yet thou wilt not come, thou wilt not heare:
O is thy wonted love become so cold?
Or do mine eyes not seek thee where they should?
Why do I seek thee, if thou art not here?
Or find thee not, if thou art ev'ry where?
I see my errour; 'Tis not strange I could not
Find out my love: I sought him where I should not
Thou art not found in downy beds of ease:
Alas, thy musick strikes on harder keyes:
Nor art thou found by that false, feeble light
Of Nature's candle; Our Ægyptian night
Is more then common darknesse; nor can we
Expect a morning, but what breaks from thee
Well may my empty bed bewail thy losse
When thou art lodg'd upon thy shamefull crosse:
If thou refuse to share a bed with me,
We'll never part I'll share a crosse with thee.
A NSELM , in Protolog. cap. 1.
Lord, if thou art not present, where shall I seek thee absent? If every where, why do I not see thee present? Thou dwellest in light inaccessible; and where is that inaccessible light? Or how shall I have accesse to light inaccessible? I beseech thee, Lord teach me to seek thee, and shew thy self to the seeker; because I can neither seek thee unlesse thou teach me, nor find thee, unless thou shew thy self to me: Let me seek thee, in desiring thee and desire thee in seeking thee; Let me find thee loving thee and love thee in finding thee .
E PIG . 10.
Where shouldst thou seek for rest, but in thy bed?
But now thy rest is gone, thy rest is fled:
'T is vain to seek him there: My soul be wise;
Go ask thy sinnes; they 'll tell thee where he lies.
XI
C ANTICLES 3. 2.
I will rise, and go about in the City, and will seek him that my soul loveth. I sought him, but I found him not.
1.
O H ow my disappointed soul 's perplext!
How restlesse thoughts swarm in my troubled breast!
How vainly pleas'd with hopes, then crossely vext
With fears! and how betwixt them both distrest!
What place is left unransack'd? Oh, where next
Shall I goe seek the Authour of my rest?
Of what blest Angel shall my lips enquire
The undiscover'd way to that entire
And everlasting solace of my heart's desire!
2.
Look how the stricken Hart that wounded flies
Ov'r hills and dales, and seeks the lower grounds
For running streams, the whilst his weeping eyes
Beg silent mercy from the following Hounds;
At length, embost, he droops, drops down, and lies
Beneath the burden of his bleeding wounds:
Ev'n so my grasping soul, dissolv'd in tears,
Doth search for thee, my God, whose deafned ears
Leave me th' unransom'd Pris'ner to my panick fears.
3.
Where have my busie eyes not pry'd? O where,
Of whom hath not my thred-bare tongue demanded?
I search'd this glorious City? he 's not here:
I sought the Countrey; she stands empty-handed;
I search'd the Court; he is a stranger there:
I ask'd the land; he 's shipp'd: the sea he 's landed:
I climb'd the air, my thoughts began t' aspire;
But ah! the wings of my too bold desire,
Soaring too near the Sunne were sing'd with sacred fire.
4.
I mov'd the Merchant's eare; alas, but he
Knew neither what I said, nor what to say:
I ask'd the Lawyer; he demands a fee,
And then demurrs me with a vain delay:
I ask'd the Schoolman; his advice was free
But scor'd me out too intricate a way:
I ask'd the Watch-man (best of all the foure)
Whose gentle answer could resolve no more,
But that he lately left him at the Temple doore.
5.
Thus having sought, and made my great inquest
In ev'ry place, and search'd in ev'ry ear;
I threw me on my bed: but ah! my rest
Was poyson'd with th' extremes of grief and fear
Where looking down into my troubled breast,
The Magazine of wounds, I found him there:
Let others hunt, and shew their sportfull Art;
I wish to catch the Hare before she start,
As Potchers use to do; Heav'n's form 's a troubled heart
S. A MBROS . lib. 3. de Virg.
Christ is not in the market, not in the streets: For Christ is Peace, in the market are strifes: Christ is Justice, in the market is iniquitie: Christ is a Labourer, in the market is idlenesse: Christ is Charity, in the market is slander: Christ is Faith, in the market is fraud: Let us not therefore seek Christ where we cannot find Christ .
S. H IERON . Ep. 22. ad Eustoch.
Jesus is jealous: He will not have thy face seen. Let foolish Virgins ramble abroad seek thou thy Love at home .
E PIG . 11.
What, lost thy love? will neither bed nor board
Receive him? Not by tears to be implor'd?
It is the Ship that moves, and not the Coast;
I fear, I fear, my soul, 't is thou art lost.
XII
C ANTICIES 3. 3.
Have you seen him whom my soul loveth? When I had past a little from them, then I found him, I took hold on him, & left him not.
1.
W H at secret corner? what unwonted way
Has scap'd the ransack of my rambling thought?
The Fox by night, nor the dull Owl by day,
Have never search'd those places I have sought;
Whilst thy lamented absence taught my breast
The ready road to grief, without request;
My day had neither comfort, nor my night had rest.
2.
How hath my unregarded language vented
The sad tautologles of lavish passion?
How often have I languish'd unlamented!
How oft have I complain'd without compassion!
I ask't the Citle-watch, but some deny'd me
The common street; whilst others would misguide me;
Some would debar me; some divert me; some deride me.
3.
Mark how the widow'd Turtle, having lost
The faithfull partner of her loyall heart,
Stretches her feeble wings from coast to coast,
Haunts ev'ry path; thinks ev'ry shade doth part
Her absent Love, and her; at length unsped
She re-betakes her to her lonely bed,
And there bewails her everlasting widow-head:
4.
So when my soul had progrest ev'ry place,
That love and dear affection could contrive;
I threw me on my couch, resolv'd t' embrace
A death for him, in whom I ceas'd to live:
But there injurious Hymen did present
His lanskip joyes; my pickled eyes did rent
Full streams of briny tears tears never to be spent.
5.
Whilst thus my sorrow-wasting soul was feeding
Upon the rad call humour of her thought,
Ev'n whilst mine eyes were blind, and heart was bleeding
He that was sought, unfound, was found unsought.
As if the Sun should dart his orbe of light
Into the secrets of the black-brow'd night:
Ev'n so appear'd my Love, my sole my soul's delight.
6.
O how mine eyes now ravish'd at the sight
Of my bright Sun shot flames of equall fire!
Ah! how my soul dissolv'd with ov'r-delight
To re-enjoy the Crown of chast desire!
How sov'reigne joy depos'd and dispossest
Rebellious grief! And how my ravish'd breast —
But who can presse those heights, that cannot be exprest?
7.
O how these arms, these greedy arms did twine
And strongly twist about his yielding wast!
The sappy branches of the Thespian Vine
Nev'r cling'd their lesse beloved Elm so fast;
Boast not thy flames, blind boy, nor feather'd shot:
Let Hymen's easie snarles be quite forgot:
Time cannot quench our fires, nor death dissolve our knot.
O RIG . Hom, 10. in divers.
O most holy Lord, and sweetest Master how good art thou to those that are of upright heart, and humble spirit! O how blessed are they that seek thee with a simple heart! How hapy that trust in thee! It is a most certain truth, that thou lovest all that love thee, and never forsakest those that trust in thee: For behold thy Love simply sought thee, and undoubtedly found thee: She trusted in thee, and is not forsaken of thee, but hath obtained more by thee then she expected from thee .
B EDA in cap. 3. Cant
The longer I was in finding whom I sought, the more earnestly I held him being found .
E PIG 12
What? found him out? let strong embraces bind him:
He'll fly perchance where tears can never find him
New sinnes will lose what old repentance gains:
Wisedome not onely gets, but got retains.
XIII
P SALM 72 28
It is good for me to draw near to God. I have put my trust in the Lord God.
W H ere is that Good, which wise men please to call
The Chiefest? Doth there any such befall
Within man's reach? Or is there such a Good at all?
If such there be, it neither must expire,
Nor change; then which there can be nothing higher:
Such Good must be the utter point of man's desire.
It is the Mark, to which all hearts must tend;
Can be desired for no other end,
Then for itself, on which all other goods depend.
What may this Excellence be? doth it subsist
A reall Essence, clouded in the midst
Of curious Art or clear to ev'ry eye that list?
Or is't a tart Idea, to procure
An edge, and keep the practick soul in ure,
Like that dear Chymick dust or puzzling Quadrature?
Where shall I seek this Good? where shall I find
This Cath'lick pleasure whose extremes may bind
My thoughts, and fill the gulf of my insatiate mind?
Lies it in Treasure? In full heaps untold?
Doth gowty Mammon's griping hand infold
This secret Saint in sacred shrines of sov'reigne gold?
No, no; she lies not there; wealth often sowrs
In keeping; makes us hers, in seeming ours;
She slides from Heav'n indeed but not in Danae's showrs.
Lives she in honour? no. The royall Crown
Builds up a creature, and then batters down:
Kings raise thee with a smile and raze thee with a frown.
In pleasure? no. Pleasure begins in rage;
Acts the fool's part on earth's uncertain stage:
Begins the Play in youth and Epilogues in age.
These, these are bastard-goods; the best of these
Torment the soul with pleasing it, and please,
Like water gulp'd in fevers with deceitfull ease.
Earth's flatt'ring dainties are but sweet distresses:
Mole-hils perform the mountains she professes;
Alas, can earth confer more good then earth possesses?
Mount, mount my soul, and let thy thoughts cashier
Earth's vain delights, and make their full carier
At Heav'n's eternall joyes: stop, stop thy Courser there
There shall thy soul possesse uncarefull treasure;
There shalt thou swim in never-fading pleasure;
And blaze in honour farre above the frowns of Caesar
Lord, if my hope dare let her anchor fall
On thee, the chiefest Good, no need to call
For earth's inferiour trash; Thou thou art All in All.
S. August . Soliloqu. cap. 13.
I follow this thing: I pursue that; but am filled with nothing. But when I found thee who art that immutable, individed, and onely good, in my self, what I obtained, I wanted not; for what I obtained not, I grieved not; with what I was possest my whole desire was satisfied .
S. B ERN . Ser. 9. sup. Beati qui habent, &c.
Let others pretend merit: let him brag of the burden of the day: Let him boast of his Sabbath fasts, and let him glory that he is not as other men: but for me, it is good to cleave unto the Lord, and to put my trust in my Lord God .
E PIG . 13
Let Boreas ' blasts and Neptune's waves be joyn'd,
Thy Bolus commands the waves, the wind;
Fear not the rocks or world's imperious waves:
Thou climbst a rock (my soul), a rock that saves.
XIV
C ANTICLES 2. 3.
I sat under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my last.
1.
L O ok how the sheep, whose rambling steps do stray
From the safe blessing of her Shepherd's eyes,
Eftsoon becomes the unprotected prey
To the wing'd squadron of beleagring flies:
Where sweltred with the scorching beams of day.
She frisks from bush to brake, and wildly flies
From her own self, ev'n of her self afraid;
She shrouds her troubled brows in ev'ry glade
And craves the mercy of the soft-removing shade.
2.
Ev'n so my wand'ring Soul, that hath digrest
From her great Shepherd, is the hourely prey
Of all my sinnes. These vultures in my breast
Gripe my Promethean heart both night and day:
I hunt from place to place, but find no rest;
I know not where to go, nor where to stay:
The eye of vengeance burns, her flames invade
My swelt'ring soul: My soul hath oft assaid,
But she can find no shrowd, but she can feel no shade.
3.
I sought the shades of Mirth, to wear away
My slow-pac'd hours of soul-consuming grief:
I scarch'd the shades of sleep, to ease my day
Of griping sorrows with a night's reprief;
I sought the shades of death; thought there t' allay
My finall torments with a full relief:
But mirth, nor sleep, nor death can hide my houres
In the false shades of their deceitfull bowrs;
The first distracts the next disturbs the last devours.
4.
Where shall I turn? To whom shall I apply me?
Are there no streams where a faint soul may wade?
Thy Godhead, J ESUS , are the flames that fry me;
Hath thy All-glorious Deity never a shade,
Where I may sit and vengeance never eye me
Where I might sit refresht or unaffraid?
Is there no comfort? Is there no refection?
Is there no cover that will give protection
I a fainting soul, the subject of thy wrath's reflexion?
5.
Look up, my soul, advance the lowly stature
Of thy sad thoughts: advance thy humble eye:
See, here's a shadow found: The humane nature
Is made the Umb[r]ella to the Deity.
To catch the Sun-beams of thy just Creatour;
Beneath this covert thou maist safely lle:
Permit thine eyes to climbe this fruitfull tree
As quick Zacheus did, and thou shalt see
A cloud of dying flesh betwixt those beams and thee.
G UILL . in cap. 2. Cant.
Who can indure the fierce rayes of the Sunne of Justice? Who shall not be consumed by his beams? Therefore the Sun of Justice took flesh, that through the conjunction of that Sun and this humane body a shadow may be made .
S. August . Med. cap. 37.
Lord, let my soul flee from the scorching thoughts of the world under the covert of thy wings, that being refreshed by the moderation of thy shadow, she may sing merrily. In peace will I lay me down and rest .
E PIG . 14.
Ah, treach'rous soul, would not thy pleasures give
That Lord which made thee living leave to live;
See what thy sinnes have done: thy sinnes have made
The Sunne of Glory now become thy shade.
XV
P SALM 137. 4
How shall we sing a song of the Lord in a strange land?
U R ge me no more: this airy mirth belongs
To better times: these times are not for songs.
The sprightly twang of the melodious Lute
Agrees not with my voice; and both unsuit
My untun'd fortunes: the affected measure
Of strains that are constrain'd afford no pleasure.
Musick 's the Child of mirth: where griefs assail
The troubled soul, both voyce and fingers fail:
Let such as ravil out their lavish dayes
In honourable riot: that can raise
Dejected hearts, and conjure up a sprite
Of madnesse by the Magick of delight;
Let those of Cupid's hoaspitall, that lie
Impatient Patients to a smiling eye;
That cannot rest, untill vain hope beguile
Their flatter'd torments with a wanton smile;
Let such redeem their peace, and salve the wrongs
Of froward Fortune with their frolick songs:
My grief, my grief's too great for smiling eyes
To cure, or counter-charms to exorcize.
The Raven's dismall croaks: the midnight howls
Of empty Wolues, mixt with the screech of Owls;
The nine sad knowls of a dull passing-Bell,
With the loud language of a nightly knell,
And horrid out-cries of revenged crimes.
Joyn'd in a medley's musick for these times:
These are no times to touch the merry string
Of Orpheus; no, these are no times to sing.
Can hide-bound Prisners, that have spent their souls
And famish'd bodies in the noysome holes
Of hell-black dungeons, apt their rougher throats,
Grown hoarse with begging alms, to warble notes?
Can the sad Filgrime, that hath lost his way
In the vast desart; there condemn'd a prey
To the wild subject, or his savage King,
Rouze up his palsey-smitten spir'ts, and sing?
Can I a Pilgrime, and a Prisner too,
(Alas) where I am neither known nor know
Ought but my torments; an unransom'd stranger
In this strange climate, in a land of danger?
O, can my voyce be pleasant, or my hand
Thus made a Prisner to a forrein land?
How can my musick relish in your ears,
That cannot speak for sobs, nor sing for tears?
Ah, if my voyce could, Orpheus -like, unspell
My poore Eurydice , my soul from hell
Of earth's misconstrued Heav'n: O then my breast
Should warble airs, whose rhapsodies should feast
The ears of Seraphims, and entertain
Heav'n's highest Deity with their lofty strain:
A strain well-drencht in the true Thespian Well:
Till then earth's Semiquaver mirth farewell.
S. August Med cap. 33
O infinitely happy are those Heavenly virtues which are able to praise thee in holiness and puritie with excessive sweetnesse and inutterable exultation! From thence they praise thee, from whence they rejoyce, because they continually see for what they rejoyce, for what they praise thee: But we, prest down with this burden of flesh, far removed from thy countenance in this pilgrimage, and blown up with worldly vanities, cannot worthily praise thee. We praise thee by faith, not face to face: but those Angelicall spirits praise thee face to face, and not by faith .
E PIG 15.
Did I refuse to sing? said I these times
Were not for songs? nor musick for these climes?
It was my errour: are not grones and tears
Harmonious raptures in th' Almightle's ears?
R OMANES 7. 23.
I see another Law in my members warring against the Law of my mind, and bringing me into captivitie to the Law of sinne
O H ow my will is hurried to and fro,
And how my unresolv'd resolves do vary!
I know not where to fix; sometimes I go
This way, then that, and then the quite contrary:
I like, dislike; lament for what I could not;
I do, undo; yet still do what I should not:
And at the self same instant will the thing I would not.
2.
Thus are my weather-beaten thoughts opprest
With th' earth-bred winds of my prodigious will;
Thus am I hourely tost from East to West
Upon the rowling streams of good and ill:
Thus am I driven upon these slipp'ry suds,
From reall ills to false apparent goods:
My life's a troubled sea, compos'd of Ebs and Flouds.
3.
The curious Penman, having trimm'd his page
With the dead language of his dabbled quill;
Lets falls a heedlesse drop, then in a rage
Cashiers the fruits of his unlucky skill;
Ev'n so my pregnant soul in th' infant bud
Of her best thoughts, showrs down a cole-black flood
Of unadvised ills, and cancels all her good.
4.
Sometimes a sudden flash of sacred heat,
Warms my chill soul, and sets my thoughts in frame;
But soon that fire is shouldred from her seat
By lustfull Cupid's much inferiour flame:
I feel two flames, and yet no flame entire;
Thus are the mungrill thoughts of mixt desire
Consum'd between that heav'nly and this earthly fire.
5.
Sometimes my trash-disdaining thoughts out-passe
The common period of terrene conceit;
O then, me thinks I scorn the thing I was,
Whilst I stand ravisht at my new estate:
But when'th Icarian wings of my desire
Feel but the warmth of their own native fire,
O then they melt and plunge within their wonted mire.
6.
I know the nature of my wav'ring mind;
I know the frailty of my fleshly will:
My Passion's Eagle-ey'd; my judgement blind;
I know what's good, but yet make choice of ill
When th' Ostrich wings of my desires shall be
So dull, they cannot mount the least degree;
Yet grant my soul desire but of desiring thee.
S. B ERN . Med. 9.
My heart is a vain heart, a vagabond and instable heart, while it is led by its own judgement; and wanting Divine counsel cannot subsist in it self; and whilest it divers wayes seeketh rest findeth none, but remaineth miserable through labour, and void of peace It agreeth not with it self; it dissenteth from it self; it altereth resolutions, changeth the judgement, frameth new thoughts, pulleth down the old, and buildeth them up again: It willeth and willeth not; and never remaineth in the same state .
S. August . de Verb. Apost.
When it would, it cannot, because when it might, it would not: Therefore by an evil will man lost his good power .
E PIG . I.
My soul, how are thy thoughts disturb'd, confin'd,
Enlarg'd betwixt thy members and thy mind!
Fix here or there; thy doubt-depending cause
Can nev'r expect one verdict 'twixt two Laws.
II
P SALM 119. 5
O that my wayes were directed to keep thy Statutes!
1.
T H us I, the object of the world's disdain,
With Pilgrime-pace surround the weary earth:
I onely relish what the world counts vain;
Her mirth 's my grief; her sullen grief, my mirth;
Her light my darknesse; and her truth my errour;
Her freedom is my jall; and her delight my terrour.
2.
Fond earth! proportion not my seeming love
To my long stay; let not thy thoughts deceive thee:
Thou art my prison, and my home's above;
My life 's a preparation but to leave thee:
Like one that seeks a doore, I walk about thee:
With thee I cannot live; I cannot live without thee
3.
The world's a lab'rinth, whose anfractuous wayes
Are all compos'd of rubs and crook'd meanders:
No resting here; He 's hurrled back that stayes
A thought; and he that goes unguided wanders:
Her way is dark, her path untrod, unev'n;
So hard 's the way from earth; so hard's the way to Heav'n.
4.
This gyring lab'rinth is betrench'd about
On either hand, with streams of sulph'rous fire;
Streams closely sliding, erring in and out,
But seeming pleasant to the fond descrier;
Where if his footsteps trust their own invention,
He falls without redresse, and sinks beyond dimension.
5.
Where shall I seek a Guide? where shall I meet
So lucky hand to lead my trembling paces?
What trusty Lantern will direct my feet
To scape the danger of these dang'rous places?
What hopes have I to passe without a Guide?
Where one gets safely through, a thousand fall beside.
6.
An unrequested Starre did gently slide
Before the Wisemen to a greater Light;
Back-sliding Isr'el found a double Guide:
A Pillar, and a Cloud; by day, by night;
Yet in my desp'rate dangers, which be farre
More great then theirs, I have nor Pillar Cloud, nor Starre.
7.
O that the pineons of a clipping Dove
Would cut my passage through the empty Aire;
Mine eyes being seeld, how would I mount above
The reach of danger and forgotten care!
My backward eyes should nev'r commit that fault,
Whose lasting guilt should build a Monument of Salt .
8.
Great God, that art the flowing Spring of Light.
Enrich mine eyes with thy refulgent Ray;
Thou art my Path; direct my steps aright;
I have no other Light, no other Way:
I'll trust my God, and him alone pursue;
His Law shall be my Path; his Heav'nly Light my Clue.
S. August . Sollioqu. cap. 4.
O Lord, who art the Light, the Way, the Truth, the Life: in whom there is no darknesse, errour, vanitie, nor death: The Light, without which there is darknesse; The Way, without which there is wandering. The Truth, without which there is errour; The Life, without which there is death: Say, Lord, Let there be Light, and I shall see Light, and eschew darknesse: I shall see the Way, and avoid wandering; I shall see the Truth, and shun errour; I shall see Life, and escape death: Illuminate, O illuminate my blind soul, which sitteth in darknesse, and the shadow of death: and direct my feet in the way of place .
E PIG . 2.
Pilgrime trudge on; What makes thy soul complain
Crownes thy complaint. The way to rest is pain:
The road to resolution lies by doubt:
The next way home 's the farthest way about.
III.
P SALM 17. 5.
Stay my steps in thy paths, that my feet do not slide
1.
W H en ere the old Exchange of profit rings
Her silver Saints-bell of uncertain gains,
My merchant soul can stretch both legs and wings:
How I can run, and take unwearied pains!
The charms of profit are so strong, that I
Who wanted legs to go find wings to fly.
2.
If time-beguiling Pleasure but advance
Her lustfull trump, and blow her bold alarms,
O how my sportfull soul can frisk and dance,
And hug that Syren in her twined arms!
The sprightly voyce of sinew-strengthning pleasure
Can lend my bedrid soul both legs and leasure.
3.
If blazing Honour chance to fill my veins
With flatt'ring warmth, and flash of Courtly fire
My soul can take a pleasure in her pains;
My lofty strutting steps disdain to tire;
My antick knees can turn upon the hinges
Of Complement, and skrue a thousand cringes.
4.
But when I come to Thee, my God, that art
The royall Myne of everlasting treasure,
The reall Honour of my better part,
And living Fountain of eternall pleasure,
How nervelesse are my limbs! how faint and slow!
I have nor wings to fly nor legs to go.
5.
So when the streams of swift-foot Rhene convay
Her upland riches to the Belgick shore;
The idle vessel slides the wat'ry lay,
Without the blast, or tug, of wind, or oare;
Her slipp'ry keel divides the silver fome
With ease; so facil is the way from home.
6.
But when the home-bound vessel turns her sails
Against the breast of the resisting stream,
O then she slugs; nor sail, nor oare prevails;
The Stream is sturdy, and her Tides extreme;
Each stroke is losse, and ev'ry tug is vain:
A Boat-length's purchase is a League of pain.
7.
Great All in All, that art my rest, my home;
My way is tedious, and my steps are slow:
Reach forth thy helpfull hand, or bid me come;
I am thy child, O teach thy child to go;
Conjoyn thy sweet commands to my desire
And I will venture, though I fall or tire.
S. August , Ser. 15. de Verb. Apost.
Be alwayes displeased at what thou art, if thou desirest to attain to what thou art not: For where thou hast pleased thy self, there thou abidest: But if thou sayest, I have enough, thou perishest; Alwayes adde, alwayes walk, alwayes proceed; neither stand still, nor go back, nor deviate: He that standeth still proceedeth not; He goeth back, that continueth not; He deviateth, that revolteth; He goeth better that creepeth in his way then he that runneth out of his way
E PIG . 3.
Fear not, my Soul, to lose for want of cunning;
Weep not; Heav'n is not alwayes got by running:
Thy thoughts are swift, although thy legs be slow;
True love will creep, not having strength to go.
IV.
P SALM 119. 120.
My flesh trembleth for fear of thee, and I am afraid of thy judgements.
L E t others boast of luck, and go their wayes
With their fair game; know vengeance seldome playes
To be too forward, but doth wisely frame
Her backward Tables for an after-game:
She gives thee leave to venture many a blot;
And, for her own advantage, hits thee not;
But when her pointed Tables are made fair,
That she be ready for thee, then beware:
Then, if a necessary blot be set,
She hits thee; wins the game, perchance the set;
If prosp'rous chances make thy casting high,
Be wisely temp'rate; cast a serious eye
On after-dangers, and keep back thy game;
Too forward seed-times make thy harvest lame:
If left-hand Fortune give thee left-hand chances,
Be wisely patient; let no envious glances
Repine to view thy gamester's heap so fair;
The hindmost Hound takes oft the doubling Hare.
The world's great Dice are false; sometimes they go
Extremely high, sometimes extremely low;
Of all her gamesters he that playes the least
Lives most at case playes most secure and best;
The way to win, is to play fair, and swear
Thy self a servant to the Crown of fear;
Fear is the Primmer of a Gamester's skill;
Who fears not Bad stands most unarm'd to ill;
The Ill that 's wisely fear'd is half withstood;
And fear of Bad is the best foyl to Good:
True Fear 's th' Blixir , which in dayes of old
Turn'd leaden Crosses into Crowns of Gold:
The World 's the Tables: Stakes, Eternall life;
The Gamesters, Heav'n and I; Unequall strife!
My Fortunes are my Dice, whereby I frame
My indisposed Life: this Life 's the Game;
My sinnes are sev'rall Blots; the Lookers on
Are Angels; and in death the Game is done:
Lord, I 'm a Bungler, and my Game doth grow
Still more and more unshap'd; my Dice run low;
The Stakes are great; my carelesse Blots are many;
And yet thou passest by, and hitst not any:
Thou art too strong; and I have none to guide me
With the least jog; the lookers on deride me:
It is a Conquest undeserving Thee,
To win a Stake from such a Worm as me:
I have no more to lose; If we persever,
'T is lost; and that once lost I 'm lost for ever
Lord, wink at faults, and be not too severe
And I will play my Game with greater fear;
O give me Fear, ere Fear has past her date:
Whose blot being hit then fears, fears then too late.
S. B ERN . Ser 54. in Cant.
There is nothing so effectuall to obtain Grace, to retain Grace, and to regain Grace, as alwayes to be found before God not over-wise, but to fear: Happy art thou if thy heart be replenished with three fears; a fear for received Grace, a greater fear for lost Grace a greatest fear to recover Grace.
S. August . super Psalm.
Present fear begetteth Eternall securitie: Fear God, which is above all, and no need to fear man at all .
E PIG . 4.
Lord, shall we grumble when thy flames do scourge us?
Our sinnes breathe fire, that fire returns to purge us,
Lord, what an Alchymist art thou, whose skill
Transmutes to perfect Good from perfect ill!
V
P SALM 119. 37.
Turn away mine eyes from regarding vanitie.
1.
How like to threds of flax
That touch the flame are my inflam'd desires!
How like to yielding wax
My soul dissolves before these wanton fires!
The fire, but touch'd, the flame but felt,
Like flax I burn; like wax I melt
2.
O how this flesh doth draw
My fetter'd soul to that deceitfull fire!
And how th' eternall Law
Is baffled by the law of my desire!
How truly bad, how seeming good
Are all the laws of flesh and bloud!
3.
O wretched state of men,
The height of whose ambition is to borrow
What must be paid agen
With griping int'rest, of the next dayes sorrow!
How wild his thoughts! How apt to range!
How apt to vary! Apt to change!
4.
How intricate and nice
Is man's perplexed way to man's desire!
Sometimes upon the ice
He slips, and sometimes falls into the fire;
His progresse is extreme and bold
Or very hot, or very cold.
5.
The common food he doth
Sustain his soul-tormenting thoughts withall
Is honey in his mouth
To-night, and in his heart, to-morrow gall:
'T is oftentimes, within an houre,
Both very sweet and very sowre
6.
If sweet Corinna smile.
A heav'n of joy breaks down into his heart:
Corinna frowns awhile,
Hel's torments are but copies of his smart:
Within a lustfull heart doth dwell
A seeming Heav'n a very Hell.
7.
Thus worthlesse, vain, and vold
Of comfort, are the fruits of earth's imployment
Which ere they be enjoy'd
Distract us and destroy us in th' enjoyment:
These be the pleasures that are priz'd
When Heav'n's cheap pen'worth stands despis'd
8.
Lord, quench these hasty flashes,
Which dart as lightning from the thund'ring skies
And ev'ry minute dashes
Against the wanton windows of mine eyes:
Lord, close the casement whilst I stand
Behind the curtain of thy hand.
S. August . Soliloqu. cap. 4.
O thou Sun that illuminatest both Heaven and Earth! Wo be unto those eyes which do not behold thee: Wo be unto those blind eyes which cannot behold thee: Wo be unto those which turn away their eyes that they will not behold thee: Wo be unto those that turn away their eyes that they may behold vanity .
S. C HRYS , sup. Matth. 19.
What is an evil woman but the enemy of friendship, an unavoidable pain, a necessary mischief, a naturall tentation, a desiderable calamity, a comestick danger, a detectable inconvenience, and the nature of evil painted over with the colour of good .
E PIG . 5.
'Tis vain, great God, to close mine eyes from ill
When I resolve to keep the old man still:
My rambling heart must cov'nant first with thee
Or none can passe betwixt mine eyes and me.
VI
E STHER 7. 3.
If I have found favour in thy sight, and if it please the King, let my life be given me at my petition.
T H ou art the great Assuerus , whose command
Doth stretch from Pole to Pole; the world's thy land;
Rebellious Vashti's the corrupted will,
Which being call'd refuses to fulfill
Thy just command: Esther , whose tears condole
The razed City 's the regen'rate Soul;
A captive maid, whom thou wilt please to grace
With nuptiall Honour in stout Vashti's place:
Her kinsman, whose unbended knee did thwart
Proud Haman's glory, is the fleshly part:
The sober Eunuch , that recall'd to mind
The new-built gibbet ( Haman had divin'd
For his own ruine) fiftie cubits high,
Is lustfull-thought-controlling chastity;
Insulting Haman is that fleshly lust
Whose red-hot fury, for a season, must
Triumph in pride and study how to tread
On Mordecay , till royall Esther plead.
Great King, my sent-for Vashti will not come;
O let the oyl o' th' blessed Virgin's womb
Cleanse my poore Esther : look, O look upon her
With gracious eyes; and let thy Beams of honour
So scoure her captive stains, that she may prove
A holy Object of thy Heav'nly love:
Annoint her with the Spiknard of thy graces.
Then try the sweetnesse of her chast embraces:
Make her the partner of thy nuptiall bed
And set thy royall Crown upon her head:
If then ambitious Haman chance to spend
His spleen on Mordecay , that scorns to bend
The wilfull stiffnesse of his stubborn knee.
Or basely crouch to any Lord but thee;
If weeping Esther should preferre a grone
Before the high tribunal of thy Throne,
Hold forth thy golden Sceptre, and afford
The gentle audience of a gracious Lord:
And let thy royall Esther be possest
Of half thy Kingdome at her dear request:
Curb lustfull Haman ; him that would disgrace
Nay ravish thy fair Queen before thy face:
And as proud Haman was himself ensnar'd
On that self gibbet, that himself prepar'd;
So nail my lust, both punishment and guilt,
On that dear crosse that mine own lusts have built
S. August . in Ep.
O Holy Spirit, alwayes inspire me with holy works; Constrain me, that I may do: Counsel me, that I may love thee: Confirm me, that I may hold thee: Conserve me that I may not lose thee .
S. August . sup. Joan.
The Spirit rusts where the flesh resteth; For as the flesh is nourished with sweet things, the Spirit is refreshed with sowre
Ibidem.
Wouldest thou that thy flesh obey thy spirit? Then let thy spirit obey thy God: Thou must be governed, that thou waist govern .
E PIG . 6.
Of Mercy and Justice is thy Kingdome built:
This plagues my sin, and that removes my guilt:
When ere I sue, Assuerus like decline
Thy Sceptre; Lord, say, Half my Kingdome's thine.
VII
C ANTICIES 7. 11.
Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the fields, and let its remain in the villages.
1.
Christ. Soul.
Chr. Come, come my dear, and let us both retire
And whiff the dainties of the fragrant fields:
Where warbling Phil'mel and the shrill-mouth'd quire
Chaunt forth their raptures; where the Turtle builds
Her lonely nest; and where the new-born bryer
Breaths forth the sweetnesse that her Aprill yields:
Come come my lovely fair, and let us trie
These rurall delicates; where thou and I
May melt in private flames, and fear no stander by
2.
Soul . My heart's eternall joy, in lieu of whom
The earth 's a blast, and all the world a bubble;
Our Citie-mansion is the fairer home,
But Countrey-sweets are tang'd with lesser trouble:
Let 's try them both, and chuse the better; come;
A change in pleasure makes the pleasure double:
On thy commands depends my go, or tarrie;
I'll stirre with Martha , or I'll stay with Mary .
Our hearts are firmly fixt although our pleasures varie.
3.
Chr. Our Countrey-mansion (situate on high)
With various Objects, still renews delight:
Her arched roof's of unstain'd Ivory:
Her wall's of fiery sparkling Chrysolite;
Her pavement is of hardest Porphery:
Her spacious windows are all glaz'd with bright
And flaming Carbuncles; no need require
Titan's faint rayes, or Vulcan's feebler fire;
And ev'ry Gate 's a Pearl; and ev'ry Pearl, entire.
4.
Soul . Fool that I was! how were my thoughts deceiv'd!
How falsly was my fond conceit possest!
I took it for an Hermitage, but pav'd
And daub'd with neighb'ring dirt, and thacht at best
Alas, I nev'r expected more, nor crav'd;
A Turtle hop'd but for a Turtle's nest;
Come, come, my dear and let no idle stay
Neglect th' advantage of the head-strong day;
How pleasure grates that feels the curb of dull delay!
5.
Chr. Come then, my Joy; let our divided paces
Conduct us to our fairest territory;
O there we 'll twine our souls in sweet embraces;
Soul. And in thine arms I'll tell my passion story:
Chr. O there I'll crown thy head with all my graces;
Soul. And all those graces shall reflect thy glory:
Chr. O there I'll feed thee with celestiall Manna
I'll be thy Elkanah, Soul . And I, thy Hanna .
Chr. I'll sound my trump of joy. So , And I'll resound Hosanna .
S. B ERN .
O blessed Contemplation! The death of vices, and the life of virtues! Thee the Law and Prophets admire: Who ever atteined perfection, if not by thee! O blessed Solitude, the Magazine of celestiall treasure! by thee things earthly and transitory are changed into Heavenly and Eternall .
S. B ERN . in Ep.
Happy is that house, and blessed is that Congregation where Martha still complaineth of Mary.
E PIG . 7.
Mechanick soul, thou must not onely do
With Martha ; but, with Mary , ponder too:
Happy's that house where these fair sisters vary;
But most, when Martha 's reconcil'd to Mary .
VIII
C ANTICIES 1. 3.
Draw me; we will follow after thee by the savour of thy Ointments
Thus like a lump of the corrupted Masse
I lle secure, long lost, before I was:
And like a block, beneath whose burden lies
That undiscover'd worm that never dies,
I have no will to rouze. I have no power to rise.
Can stinking Lazarus compound, or strive
With death's entangling letters and revive?
Or can the water-buried Axe implore
A hand to raise it; or it self restore,
And from her sandy deeps approch the dry-foot shore?
So hard 's the task for sinfull flesh and bloud
To lend the smallest step to what is good;
My God, I cannot move the least degree;
Ah! If but onely those that active be,
None should thy glory see none should thy glory see.
But if the Potter please t' inform the clay,
Or some strong hand remove the block away;
Their lowly fortunes soon are mounted higher
That proves a vessel, which before was mire:
And this being hewn, may serve for better use then fire
And if that life-restoring voyce command
Dead Las'rus forth; or that great Prophet's hand
Should charm the sullen waters, and begin
To becken, or to dart a stick but in,
Dead Laz'rus must revive and th' Axe must float again.
Lord, as I am, I have no pow'r at all
To heare thy voyce, or echo to thy call;
The gloomy Clouds of mine own guilt benight me;
Thy glorious beams, nor dainty sweets invite me;
They neither can direct; nor these at all delight me.
See how my sin-bemangled body lies,
Nor having pow'r to will, nor will to rise!
Shine home upon thy Creature, and inspire
My livelesse will with thy regen'rate fire:
The first degree to do, is onely to desire.
Give me the pow'r to will the will to do:
O raise me up, and I will strive to go:
Draw me, O draw me with thy treble twist
That have no pow'r but merely to resist;
O lend me strength to do, and then command thy list.
My Soul's a Clock, whose wheels (for want of use
And winding up, being subject to th' abuse
Of eating rust) wants vigour to fulfill
Her twelve houres task and show her maker's skill
But idly sleeps unmov'd, and standeth vainly still.
Great God, it is thy work, and therefore good;
If thou be pleas'd to cleanse it with thy blood
And wind it up with thy soul-moving keyes,
Her busie wheels shall serve thee all her dayes;
Her hand shall point thy pow'r her hammer strike thy praise.
S. B ERN , S ERM az in C ANT .
Let us run, let us run, but in the savour of thy Ointments, not in the confidence of our merits, nor in the greatnesse of our strength: we trust to run, but in the multitude of thy mercies, for though we run and are willing, it is not in him that willeth, nor in him that runneth, but in God that sheweth mercy. O let thy mercy return, and we will run; Thou, like a Gyant, runnest by thy own power; we unlesse thy ointment breath upon us, cannot run .
E PIG . 8.
Look not, my Watch, being once repair'd to stand
Expecting motion from thy Maker's hand.
H' as wound thee up, and cleans'd thy Cogs with blood:
If now thy wheels stand still thou art not good.
IX
C ANTICIES 8. 1.
O that thou wert as my brother, that sucked the breasts of my mother, I would find thee without, and I would kisse thee
1.
Come, come my blessed Infant, and immure thee
Within tho Temple of my sacred arms;
Secure mine arms, mine arms shall then secure thee
From Herod's fury, or the high-Priest's harms;
Or if thy danger'd life sustain a losse,
My folded arms shall turn thy dying crosse.
2.
But ah, what savage Tyrant can behold
The beauty of so sweet a face as this is,
And not himself be by himself controul'd,
And change his fury to a thousand kisses?
One smile of thine is worth more mines of treasure
Then there be Myriads in the days of Cesar .
3.
O, had the Tetrarch , as he knew thy birth,
So known thy stock he had not sought to paddle
In thy dear bloud: but prostrate on the earth,
Had valid his Crown before thy royall Cradle;
And laid the Sceptre of his Glory down,
And begg'd a Heav'nly for an Earthly Crown.
4.
Illustrious Babe! how is thy handmaid grac'd
With a rich armfull! how dost thou decline
Thy Majesty, that wert so late embrac'd
In thy great Father's arms, and now in mine!
How humbly gracious art thou, to refresh,
Me with thy Spirit and assume my flesh.
5.
But must the treason of a traitour's Hail
Abuse the sweetnesse of these ruby lips?
Shall marble-hearted cruelty assail
These Alabaster sides with knotted whips?
And must these smiling Roses entertain
The blows of scorn and flurts of base disdain?
6.
Ah! must these dainty little sprigs that twine
So fast about my neck, be pierc'd and torn
With ragged nails? and must these brows resigne
Their Crown of Glory for a crown of thorn?
Ah, must this blessed Infant tast the pain
Of death's injurious pangs? nay worse be slain?
7.
Sweet Babe! At what dear rates do wretched I
Commit a sinne! Lord, ev'ry sin's a dart:
And ev'ry trespasse lets a javelin flie;
And ev'ry javelin wounds thy bleeding heart:
Pardon, sweet Babe, what I have done amisse:
And seal that granted pardon with a kisse.
B ONAVENT , Soliloqu. Cap. 1
O sweet Jesu, I knew not that thy kisses were so sweet, nor thy society so delectable, nor thy attraction so vertuous: For when I love thee, I am clean; when I touch thee, I am chast, when I receive thee I am a virgin: O most sweet Jesu, thy embraces defile not but cleanse; thy attraction polluteth not, but sanctifieth: O Jesu, the Fountain of universall sweetnesse, pardon me that I believed so late that so much sweetnesse is in thy embraces .
E PIG 9.
My burden's greatest: Let not Atlas boast:
Impartiall Reader, Judge which beats the most:
He bears but Heav'n: my folded arms sustain
Heav'n's maker, whom Heav'n's Heav'n cannot contain.
X
C ANTICLES 3. 1.
In my bed by night I sought him that my soul loved; I sought him, but I found him not
T H e learned Cynick, having lost the way
To honest men did in the height of day
By Taper-light, divide his steps about
The peopled streets to find this dainty out,
But fall'd: The Cynick search'd not where he ought:
The thing he sought for was not where he sought.
The Wisemen's task seem'd barder to be done,
The Wisemen did by Starre-light seek the Sunne,
And found: the Wisemen search'd it where they ought;
The thing they hop'd to find was where they sought
One seeks his wishes where he should: but then
Perchance he seeks not as he should, nor when:
Another searches when he should, but there
He fails; not seeking as he should, nor where:
Whose soul desires the good it wants, and would
Obtain, must seek Where, As, and When he should;
How often have my wild affections led
My wasted soul to this my widdow'd bed,
To seek my Lover, whom my soul desires!
(I speak not, Cupid of thy wanton fires:
Thy fires are all but dying sparks to mine;
My flames are full of Heav'n, and all Divine)
How often have I sought this bed, by night.
To find that greater by this lesser light!
How oft have my unwitnest grones lamented
Thy dearest absence! Ah how often vented
The bitter tempests of despairing breath.
And tost my soul upon the waves of death!
How often has my melting heart made choice
Of silent tears, (tears louder then a voyce)
To plead my grief, and woo thy absent eare!
And yet thou wilt not come, thou wilt not heare:
O is thy wonted love become so cold?
Or do mine eyes not seek thee where they should?
Why do I seek thee, if thou art not here?
Or find thee not, if thou art ev'ry where?
I see my errour; 'Tis not strange I could not
Find out my love: I sought him where I should not
Thou art not found in downy beds of ease:
Alas, thy musick strikes on harder keyes:
Nor art thou found by that false, feeble light
Of Nature's candle; Our Ægyptian night
Is more then common darknesse; nor can we
Expect a morning, but what breaks from thee
Well may my empty bed bewail thy losse
When thou art lodg'd upon thy shamefull crosse:
If thou refuse to share a bed with me,
We'll never part I'll share a crosse with thee.
A NSELM , in Protolog. cap. 1.
Lord, if thou art not present, where shall I seek thee absent? If every where, why do I not see thee present? Thou dwellest in light inaccessible; and where is that inaccessible light? Or how shall I have accesse to light inaccessible? I beseech thee, Lord teach me to seek thee, and shew thy self to the seeker; because I can neither seek thee unlesse thou teach me, nor find thee, unless thou shew thy self to me: Let me seek thee, in desiring thee and desire thee in seeking thee; Let me find thee loving thee and love thee in finding thee .
E PIG . 10.
Where shouldst thou seek for rest, but in thy bed?
But now thy rest is gone, thy rest is fled:
'T is vain to seek him there: My soul be wise;
Go ask thy sinnes; they 'll tell thee where he lies.
XI
C ANTICLES 3. 2.
I will rise, and go about in the City, and will seek him that my soul loveth. I sought him, but I found him not.
1.
O H ow my disappointed soul 's perplext!
How restlesse thoughts swarm in my troubled breast!
How vainly pleas'd with hopes, then crossely vext
With fears! and how betwixt them both distrest!
What place is left unransack'd? Oh, where next
Shall I goe seek the Authour of my rest?
Of what blest Angel shall my lips enquire
The undiscover'd way to that entire
And everlasting solace of my heart's desire!
2.
Look how the stricken Hart that wounded flies
Ov'r hills and dales, and seeks the lower grounds
For running streams, the whilst his weeping eyes
Beg silent mercy from the following Hounds;
At length, embost, he droops, drops down, and lies
Beneath the burden of his bleeding wounds:
Ev'n so my grasping soul, dissolv'd in tears,
Doth search for thee, my God, whose deafned ears
Leave me th' unransom'd Pris'ner to my panick fears.
3.
Where have my busie eyes not pry'd? O where,
Of whom hath not my thred-bare tongue demanded?
I search'd this glorious City? he 's not here:
I sought the Countrey; she stands empty-handed;
I search'd the Court; he is a stranger there:
I ask'd the land; he 's shipp'd: the sea he 's landed:
I climb'd the air, my thoughts began t' aspire;
But ah! the wings of my too bold desire,
Soaring too near the Sunne were sing'd with sacred fire.
4.
I mov'd the Merchant's eare; alas, but he
Knew neither what I said, nor what to say:
I ask'd the Lawyer; he demands a fee,
And then demurrs me with a vain delay:
I ask'd the Schoolman; his advice was free
But scor'd me out too intricate a way:
I ask'd the Watch-man (best of all the foure)
Whose gentle answer could resolve no more,
But that he lately left him at the Temple doore.
5.
Thus having sought, and made my great inquest
In ev'ry place, and search'd in ev'ry ear;
I threw me on my bed: but ah! my rest
Was poyson'd with th' extremes of grief and fear
Where looking down into my troubled breast,
The Magazine of wounds, I found him there:
Let others hunt, and shew their sportfull Art;
I wish to catch the Hare before she start,
As Potchers use to do; Heav'n's form 's a troubled heart
S. A MBROS . lib. 3. de Virg.
Christ is not in the market, not in the streets: For Christ is Peace, in the market are strifes: Christ is Justice, in the market is iniquitie: Christ is a Labourer, in the market is idlenesse: Christ is Charity, in the market is slander: Christ is Faith, in the market is fraud: Let us not therefore seek Christ where we cannot find Christ .
S. H IERON . Ep. 22. ad Eustoch.
Jesus is jealous: He will not have thy face seen. Let foolish Virgins ramble abroad seek thou thy Love at home .
E PIG . 11.
What, lost thy love? will neither bed nor board
Receive him? Not by tears to be implor'd?
It is the Ship that moves, and not the Coast;
I fear, I fear, my soul, 't is thou art lost.
XII
C ANTICIES 3. 3.
Have you seen him whom my soul loveth? When I had past a little from them, then I found him, I took hold on him, & left him not.
1.
W H at secret corner? what unwonted way
Has scap'd the ransack of my rambling thought?
The Fox by night, nor the dull Owl by day,
Have never search'd those places I have sought;
Whilst thy lamented absence taught my breast
The ready road to grief, without request;
My day had neither comfort, nor my night had rest.
2.
How hath my unregarded language vented
The sad tautologles of lavish passion?
How often have I languish'd unlamented!
How oft have I complain'd without compassion!
I ask't the Citle-watch, but some deny'd me
The common street; whilst others would misguide me;
Some would debar me; some divert me; some deride me.
3.
Mark how the widow'd Turtle, having lost
The faithfull partner of her loyall heart,
Stretches her feeble wings from coast to coast,
Haunts ev'ry path; thinks ev'ry shade doth part
Her absent Love, and her; at length unsped
She re-betakes her to her lonely bed,
And there bewails her everlasting widow-head:
4.
So when my soul had progrest ev'ry place,
That love and dear affection could contrive;
I threw me on my couch, resolv'd t' embrace
A death for him, in whom I ceas'd to live:
But there injurious Hymen did present
His lanskip joyes; my pickled eyes did rent
Full streams of briny tears tears never to be spent.
5.
Whilst thus my sorrow-wasting soul was feeding
Upon the rad call humour of her thought,
Ev'n whilst mine eyes were blind, and heart was bleeding
He that was sought, unfound, was found unsought.
As if the Sun should dart his orbe of light
Into the secrets of the black-brow'd night:
Ev'n so appear'd my Love, my sole my soul's delight.
6.
O how mine eyes now ravish'd at the sight
Of my bright Sun shot flames of equall fire!
Ah! how my soul dissolv'd with ov'r-delight
To re-enjoy the Crown of chast desire!
How sov'reigne joy depos'd and dispossest
Rebellious grief! And how my ravish'd breast —
But who can presse those heights, that cannot be exprest?
7.
O how these arms, these greedy arms did twine
And strongly twist about his yielding wast!
The sappy branches of the Thespian Vine
Nev'r cling'd their lesse beloved Elm so fast;
Boast not thy flames, blind boy, nor feather'd shot:
Let Hymen's easie snarles be quite forgot:
Time cannot quench our fires, nor death dissolve our knot.
O RIG . Hom, 10. in divers.
O most holy Lord, and sweetest Master how good art thou to those that are of upright heart, and humble spirit! O how blessed are they that seek thee with a simple heart! How hapy that trust in thee! It is a most certain truth, that thou lovest all that love thee, and never forsakest those that trust in thee: For behold thy Love simply sought thee, and undoubtedly found thee: She trusted in thee, and is not forsaken of thee, but hath obtained more by thee then she expected from thee .
B EDA in cap. 3. Cant
The longer I was in finding whom I sought, the more earnestly I held him being found .
E PIG 12
What? found him out? let strong embraces bind him:
He'll fly perchance where tears can never find him
New sinnes will lose what old repentance gains:
Wisedome not onely gets, but got retains.
XIII
P SALM 72 28
It is good for me to draw near to God. I have put my trust in the Lord God.
W H ere is that Good, which wise men please to call
The Chiefest? Doth there any such befall
Within man's reach? Or is there such a Good at all?
If such there be, it neither must expire,
Nor change; then which there can be nothing higher:
Such Good must be the utter point of man's desire.
It is the Mark, to which all hearts must tend;
Can be desired for no other end,
Then for itself, on which all other goods depend.
What may this Excellence be? doth it subsist
A reall Essence, clouded in the midst
Of curious Art or clear to ev'ry eye that list?
Or is't a tart Idea, to procure
An edge, and keep the practick soul in ure,
Like that dear Chymick dust or puzzling Quadrature?
Where shall I seek this Good? where shall I find
This Cath'lick pleasure whose extremes may bind
My thoughts, and fill the gulf of my insatiate mind?
Lies it in Treasure? In full heaps untold?
Doth gowty Mammon's griping hand infold
This secret Saint in sacred shrines of sov'reigne gold?
No, no; she lies not there; wealth often sowrs
In keeping; makes us hers, in seeming ours;
She slides from Heav'n indeed but not in Danae's showrs.
Lives she in honour? no. The royall Crown
Builds up a creature, and then batters down:
Kings raise thee with a smile and raze thee with a frown.
In pleasure? no. Pleasure begins in rage;
Acts the fool's part on earth's uncertain stage:
Begins the Play in youth and Epilogues in age.
These, these are bastard-goods; the best of these
Torment the soul with pleasing it, and please,
Like water gulp'd in fevers with deceitfull ease.
Earth's flatt'ring dainties are but sweet distresses:
Mole-hils perform the mountains she professes;
Alas, can earth confer more good then earth possesses?
Mount, mount my soul, and let thy thoughts cashier
Earth's vain delights, and make their full carier
At Heav'n's eternall joyes: stop, stop thy Courser there
There shall thy soul possesse uncarefull treasure;
There shalt thou swim in never-fading pleasure;
And blaze in honour farre above the frowns of Caesar
Lord, if my hope dare let her anchor fall
On thee, the chiefest Good, no need to call
For earth's inferiour trash; Thou thou art All in All.
S. August . Soliloqu. cap. 13.
I follow this thing: I pursue that; but am filled with nothing. But when I found thee who art that immutable, individed, and onely good, in my self, what I obtained, I wanted not; for what I obtained not, I grieved not; with what I was possest my whole desire was satisfied .
S. B ERN . Ser. 9. sup. Beati qui habent, &c.
Let others pretend merit: let him brag of the burden of the day: Let him boast of his Sabbath fasts, and let him glory that he is not as other men: but for me, it is good to cleave unto the Lord, and to put my trust in my Lord God .
E PIG . 13
Let Boreas ' blasts and Neptune's waves be joyn'd,
Thy Bolus commands the waves, the wind;
Fear not the rocks or world's imperious waves:
Thou climbst a rock (my soul), a rock that saves.
XIV
C ANTICLES 2. 3.
I sat under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my last.
1.
L O ok how the sheep, whose rambling steps do stray
From the safe blessing of her Shepherd's eyes,
Eftsoon becomes the unprotected prey
To the wing'd squadron of beleagring flies:
Where sweltred with the scorching beams of day.
She frisks from bush to brake, and wildly flies
From her own self, ev'n of her self afraid;
She shrouds her troubled brows in ev'ry glade
And craves the mercy of the soft-removing shade.
2.
Ev'n so my wand'ring Soul, that hath digrest
From her great Shepherd, is the hourely prey
Of all my sinnes. These vultures in my breast
Gripe my Promethean heart both night and day:
I hunt from place to place, but find no rest;
I know not where to go, nor where to stay:
The eye of vengeance burns, her flames invade
My swelt'ring soul: My soul hath oft assaid,
But she can find no shrowd, but she can feel no shade.
3.
I sought the shades of Mirth, to wear away
My slow-pac'd hours of soul-consuming grief:
I scarch'd the shades of sleep, to ease my day
Of griping sorrows with a night's reprief;
I sought the shades of death; thought there t' allay
My finall torments with a full relief:
But mirth, nor sleep, nor death can hide my houres
In the false shades of their deceitfull bowrs;
The first distracts the next disturbs the last devours.
4.
Where shall I turn? To whom shall I apply me?
Are there no streams where a faint soul may wade?
Thy Godhead, J ESUS , are the flames that fry me;
Hath thy All-glorious Deity never a shade,
Where I may sit and vengeance never eye me
Where I might sit refresht or unaffraid?
Is there no comfort? Is there no refection?
Is there no cover that will give protection
I a fainting soul, the subject of thy wrath's reflexion?
5.
Look up, my soul, advance the lowly stature
Of thy sad thoughts: advance thy humble eye:
See, here's a shadow found: The humane nature
Is made the Umb[r]ella to the Deity.
To catch the Sun-beams of thy just Creatour;
Beneath this covert thou maist safely lle:
Permit thine eyes to climbe this fruitfull tree
As quick Zacheus did, and thou shalt see
A cloud of dying flesh betwixt those beams and thee.
G UILL . in cap. 2. Cant.
Who can indure the fierce rayes of the Sunne of Justice? Who shall not be consumed by his beams? Therefore the Sun of Justice took flesh, that through the conjunction of that Sun and this humane body a shadow may be made .
S. August . Med. cap. 37.
Lord, let my soul flee from the scorching thoughts of the world under the covert of thy wings, that being refreshed by the moderation of thy shadow, she may sing merrily. In peace will I lay me down and rest .
E PIG . 14.
Ah, treach'rous soul, would not thy pleasures give
That Lord which made thee living leave to live;
See what thy sinnes have done: thy sinnes have made
The Sunne of Glory now become thy shade.
XV
P SALM 137. 4
How shall we sing a song of the Lord in a strange land?
U R ge me no more: this airy mirth belongs
To better times: these times are not for songs.
The sprightly twang of the melodious Lute
Agrees not with my voice; and both unsuit
My untun'd fortunes: the affected measure
Of strains that are constrain'd afford no pleasure.
Musick 's the Child of mirth: where griefs assail
The troubled soul, both voyce and fingers fail:
Let such as ravil out their lavish dayes
In honourable riot: that can raise
Dejected hearts, and conjure up a sprite
Of madnesse by the Magick of delight;
Let those of Cupid's hoaspitall, that lie
Impatient Patients to a smiling eye;
That cannot rest, untill vain hope beguile
Their flatter'd torments with a wanton smile;
Let such redeem their peace, and salve the wrongs
Of froward Fortune with their frolick songs:
My grief, my grief's too great for smiling eyes
To cure, or counter-charms to exorcize.
The Raven's dismall croaks: the midnight howls
Of empty Wolues, mixt with the screech of Owls;
The nine sad knowls of a dull passing-Bell,
With the loud language of a nightly knell,
And horrid out-cries of revenged crimes.
Joyn'd in a medley's musick for these times:
These are no times to touch the merry string
Of Orpheus; no, these are no times to sing.
Can hide-bound Prisners, that have spent their souls
And famish'd bodies in the noysome holes
Of hell-black dungeons, apt their rougher throats,
Grown hoarse with begging alms, to warble notes?
Can the sad Filgrime, that hath lost his way
In the vast desart; there condemn'd a prey
To the wild subject, or his savage King,
Rouze up his palsey-smitten spir'ts, and sing?
Can I a Pilgrime, and a Prisner too,
(Alas) where I am neither known nor know
Ought but my torments; an unransom'd stranger
In this strange climate, in a land of danger?
O, can my voyce be pleasant, or my hand
Thus made a Prisner to a forrein land?
How can my musick relish in your ears,
That cannot speak for sobs, nor sing for tears?
Ah, if my voyce could, Orpheus -like, unspell
My poore Eurydice , my soul from hell
Of earth's misconstrued Heav'n: O then my breast
Should warble airs, whose rhapsodies should feast
The ears of Seraphims, and entertain
Heav'n's highest Deity with their lofty strain:
A strain well-drencht in the true Thespian Well:
Till then earth's Semiquaver mirth farewell.
S. August Med cap. 33
O infinitely happy are those Heavenly virtues which are able to praise thee in holiness and puritie with excessive sweetnesse and inutterable exultation! From thence they praise thee, from whence they rejoyce, because they continually see for what they rejoyce, for what they praise thee: But we, prest down with this burden of flesh, far removed from thy countenance in this pilgrimage, and blown up with worldly vanities, cannot worthily praise thee. We praise thee by faith, not face to face: but those Angelicall spirits praise thee face to face, and not by faith .
E PIG 15.
Did I refuse to sing? said I these times
Were not for songs? nor musick for these climes?
It was my errour: are not grones and tears
Harmonious raptures in th' Almightle's ears?
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