GOD IN THE CREATURE.

BEING A POEM in Three Parts: VIZ. A Song of Praise in Contemplation of the Works of Creation and Providence in General: With a Debate touching Providence in particular, by way of Dialogue.

VIZ. Cur male bonis, & bene malis, cum sit Providentia. Why goes it ill with the Good, and well with the Evil, seeing there is Providence?

With several other POEMS and ODES.

By HENRY GRENFIELD.

For the invisible things of him, from the Creation of the World are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his Eternal Power and Godhead,

Rom. 1. ver. 20.

I will sing unto the Lord, as long as I live; I will sing Praise un­to my God, while I have my being,

Psal. 134. v. 33.

LONDON: Printed for George May, Bookseller in EXETER. MDCLXXXVI.

To the Worshipful the Mayor, the Right Honourable the Recorder, with the Ho­nourable and Worshipful Justices, Al­dermen, and all the rest of the Worthy Capitol Burgesses of the Reformed and Loyal Corporation of the Borough of TRURO, in the County of CORNWALL.

SIRS,

I Cannot but with a chearful Hu­mility, declare my self under a double Obligation of all possi­ble Respect and Service to your Honourable and most Loyal Frater­nity, and particularly of my present Address, tho with so minute and home­ly an Offering, which hath indeed in you a most encouraging Goodness to [Page] promise, but in it self only the ve­nerable Excellence of its Subject to sollicite a favourable Reception.

The first Obligation, is a Debt of Love and Honour; the Heathen could see this by the obscure twilight of Na­ture, esteeming their highest Love and Honour to be their Countries indispen­sible due, first, to the King or Supreme, by what Name or Title soever digni­fied or distinguished; next, to them that are sent by, or set in Authority under him; Lastly, to the whole Com­munity of fellow Subjects. And such as were their Affections at large to their Countries in general, such also were their more particular Propensi­ons and Devoirs to the particular Places of their respective Nativities, which is my present behoof.

In this Ancient Corporation I drew my first Breath; and to this [Page] therefore would gladly pay the first fruits of my Honest (howsoever un­fortunate) Endeavours. But to this natural Incitement of Love and Ho­nour, we have in you the happy Ac­cession of a most generous and noble Loyalty: Loyalty! the grand Compre­hension, in one Word, of all Publick and Political Virtue, so far forth as re­fers to the Subjects; an abridgment, like Love, not only of the Principles of both Tables of Positive Divine Law, but also of the Fundamental and Unwritten Divine Law of Nature, those Common Notions and Transcripts of the Eternal Law, which are none other but the immutable Idea's of Religion, interwoven in the very Make and Ori­ginal Contexture of our Beings; for what, but the peaceful Hands of Loyalty, beautiful as the Rosie Fingers of the Morning, preserves inviolate the Sacred Marriage of the Fear of [Page] the Lord with that of the King; or (as it is equivalently phrased) of the Fear of the Lord with the Honour of the King? 'Tis this prevents, with a Golden Chain of most harmoniously conspiring Graces, the setting asunder of those whom God hath joined together: Nor can she indeed apprehend these two capable of a real Existence in a state of Separation; for our Fear of the Deity, and our Honour of Majesty, as like Jonathan and Saul, they are lovely and pleasant together in their Lives, so can they not be other than undivided in their Deaths; like Hippocrates's Twins, as they live, so must they dye, (which Heaven ever forbid) dye together, and dye in each others Arms: So that Loyalty, where­ever she lights, tho on a Dunghil, car­ries a commanding Lustre in her Face; but an advantageous setting off the Jewel in Generous and Noble Metals [Page] (such as your selves); as it mightily commends its Beauty, so ought propor­tionably to heighten its Value: But wherewithal then can I evidence a com­mensurate Respect? Commensurate! nay, in any Measure competent to so much, and such excellent Worth? why in the present State of Truro, 'tis now (Thanks be to Heaven) easie to see awful Authority, and a most Rational, Ingenuous Candor, going Hand in Hand, and every where to the grief of Faction, but the Delight of God, and all honest Men, embracing and greet­ing each other with a Holy Kiss; and certainly such a temperate Body will not expect more from its Denizen Ser­vants, than the circumstances of their Habitation can dispose them to.

The thick and misty Air of a Mar­shy, and on every side most depressed Vale, serves not for such Noble and Lofty Flights, as the benign Serenity [Page] that blesses the flowry Banks of Isis and Cham, and those ever Springful Bowers of most happy Thames, where the Muses have their perpetual Resi­dence, and Imperial Court. As for Sil­ver and Gold, such as the more splen­did and Heroical Pieces of Poesie, I have none; but such as the Cornish Muse affords, once in the Name of all that's Good, I humbly present you with, as the humble Specimens of an unmodish, hearty Gratitude: And this is a second Obligation I would have all Men to know I lye under to your Honourable and most Loyal Fraterni­ty; a Debt of Gratitude, the most com­prehensive of all Debts, and deeply found in Nature: I am (Sirs) undu­bitably secured of no Inferior Place in your Favour, by many pregnant In­stances, but more especially by your last most sensible demonstration of Kindness, the Character whereof is in­delibly [Page] wtitten in my Heart (as with a Diamond). Nor shall the Recogni­tion of the same on all suitable occa­sions be only ingeminated in my Mouth, but also seconded by agreeable Action, so far forth as the Sphere and Abilities, which the Divine Goodness hath allotted me to act in, and by, shall permit: For so abundant and uncontroulably Gracious have been your Condescentions, that they are to me in reality as Glorious and obliging as the so much celebrated Descent of the Amorous God to his Danaes in a Golden Shower, could ever be to the most credulous Admirers of Poetick Fables: So that ( Sirs) 'tis not at all to be reckoned amongst Wonders, that I thus expose and hazzard the lit­tle Reputation of my Parts, to evidence and evince the greater Power and Prevalence of my Gratitude: But to ease your Patience, I conclude with the [Page] humble Oreizons of your Countrey Muse,

Pardon a slender Vapour coming near,
In this Ascent, towards your Noble Sphere:
Ascent ow'd to no want of lowly Sense,
But to your strong attractive Influence.
Such Sacrifice from earth, Heaven don't disdain,
Witness their kind returns in gentle Rain.
And therefore cannot you, in whom are all
The Constellations we can Heavenly call:
So all Church Organs sing: Nor is there Room,
Since you're great James's choice, for doubt to come.
[Page]Take then this Mite amidst your Ho­nouring Croud,
Which only of your Crowning Name is proud:
A Pious Bird her humble Feathers brings,
To the * Ephesian Glory; Asia's Kings
Accept her Zeal amongst their no­blest things:
Nor was Goats Hair, and Badgers skins put back
From his blest Seat ⸫, who could no Purple lack:
'Tis not Heav'ns Greatness to encrease, but show
What to its Goodness we poor Mortals owe,
[Page]That all Religion means; therefore such Trees
As give no food, the chiefest Deities
Thought fit to [...] chuse. Great Jupi­ter for Oak;
Apollo, Lawrel; Venus, Myrtle spoke;
Bacchus, the Ivy; Herc'les, Poplar took.
Then take you this, not meant to make you more,
But only show, that we your worth a dore▪
Your Worth, which stands storm-proof, as sacred Oaks,
And like the Lawrel, smiles at lightning strokes
Of envious eyes, of whose fresh leaves is made,
As of a Myrtle Grove a pleasant shade,
All to delight and shrowd, that sing your Name,
On Oaten Pipes, and teach the Woods the same;
[Page]The Woods the same! Woods once o­bedient were,
To Orpheus, and danc'd to's charmful Air.
Nor did Rocks to Amphion less per­form,
His Musick drew them mighty Thebes to form.
So may your gentle Airs rude Nature storm,
Storm to a Calm, till you bring on the stage,
The peaceful Worlds most Loyal Golden Age:
So Prays, Sirs,
Your most Humbly Devoted, HENRY GRENFIELD.

TO THE READER.

Candid Reader,

I Must satisfy my self in Advertising you, on what account my Littleness is so daring, as first, to offer any thing of its own to publick view; and se­condly, Why a work of this Nature? As for the first, I can solemnly affirm, I do it not without much painful Reluctance, Re­sulting from the Conscious and most Ma­ture apprehensions of my Insufficiency to produce any thing of a Complexion strong enough to endure an open and piercing Air, which I have good reason to expect: But in this Dispute, the over-ruling con­sideration of Gratitude (as I afore hinted) remains Conqueror, and sways my Acti­ons quite counter to my inclinations. As [Page] for the second, granting I am oblig'd by some moral inforcements to appear thus unwillingly publick; why yet should I chuse to do it in a dress of this kind, which by how much the more it is of Di­vine Materials, is by so much the more of weighty import, and hazardous at­tempt? For who is sufficient for those things? 'Tis the good pleasure of Heaven, to which we all owe the profoundest and chearfullest obedience, that hitherto I should remain short of the prime and darling end of my Studies; Namely, of being admitted to serve at the Holy Al­tar, or of going, not as the Scribes, but as one having authority, before the multi­tude, into the House of the Lord, in the Voice of Praise and Thanks-giving, a­mongst such as keep Holy-day; the Prime and Darling end (I say) of my Studies; for the meanest Door-keeper in the House of God (as amongst us) Establish'd by Law, in a decency and order, well be­coming [Page] the Beauty of Holiness, and most expressive of the Heroical Primitive Piety, I ever Esteemed infinitely pre­ferrable to the Proudest Prince in the Syn­nagogues of Corah ▪ For this reason, tho with my heart I abhor all Sacrilegious Intrusions on the Altar, yet fain would I rival the little Sparrow and Swallow in contending for a place to Set and Sing within an allowable propinquity.

In pursuance hereof, I cannot but en­deavour, seeing Condemned (as the dumb Jack in the Virginals) to a Regretful si­lence, yet by one motion or other to con­tribute somewhat to the general Harmo­ny, in which all Creatures, by the Indis­pensible Laws of their Creation ought to bear a part; that is, in the Resounding the praises of the most Glorious Creator, that great Harmostes, or Master of Harmony, which hath so Musically Com­posed the Ʋniversal Poem of both the In­tellectual and Sensible Worlds, in just [Page] Number, Weight and Measure, that each part answers other, and all the Whole in most Tunable Proportions.

Nor could I accomplish this noble end in a more worthy Argument, than a cheer­ful Contemplation of the Divine Perfecti­on in the Works of Creation and Provi­dence; than which there is no part of Natural Theology more necessarily be­hooveful, or more excellently comfortable.

As to my self, I am fully perswaded, there is no more efficacious preservative of the Life and true Happiness, or a more Vigorous Antidote against the Stings of Misery, than this one consideration of an All-wise, most Gracious All-disposing Pro­vidence; a General over the General Sy­stem of the World, a special over man, and most special over good men; which conside­ration busies it self not so much in conver­sing (as Democritus) altogether with Me­lancholick Creatures, to search out the seat and nature of black choler; as in pre­venting [Page] (if possible) so malignant a humour; or if not, then in sweetning the Waters imbitter'd by it, with infu­sions of heavenly Nectar: Which other­wise might prove incomparably more un­potable than the bitterest of the Waters of Meribah. And what is so sensibly evident to me, with immediate respect to my self, I am also morally ascertain'd of with Relation to others; and more particularly, my Brethren in Religion, Church and Country; that especially, in these distracted and troublesome times, when all order hath been wickedly design'd and attempted to be overwhelmed with Confusion: There is no more opportune consideration than this, as well for ne­cessity, as pleasure: Nay, more necessary for the support, as well as of the being, as of the well-being of all natural, and con­sequently all revealed Religion; that being a main prop and foundation of this.

[Page]It is true, the Holy Jesus, God blessed for ever incarnate, is the sole fountain of our true comfort; especially, of that most sublimated comprehensive comfort, the Peace of God, which passeth all under­standing. Yet without a previous perswasion of this over-ruling Providence, this inex­haustible Fountain (quo ad nos) would inevitably dry up, as to the Act of affording us any solid, either present, or hoped Consolation. But let the good man which exerciseth himself herein to keep a Con­science void of Offence towards God and towards Man, carry about in his Bosome an applying consideration of Divine Pro­vidence: And he is most truly the Philo­sophers [...], a foursquar'd man; cast him where you will, he will be sure to fall as a Dye on a secure bottom. Which saving consideration of Divine Pro­vidence, that you and I, and all our Fel­low Christians, may of the Divine Mercy obtain, and by the Divine Grace improve [Page] from one degree to another, till it arrives to a perfect Plerophory, is the hearty prayer of

Your truly Affectionate HENRY GRENFIELD.

GOD IN THE CREATURE. PART I.

JUST were the Eye-lids of the Morn unstay'd,
And pleasant Light with nimble Wings dis­play'd:
Guilding with silver Strakes each fitted Cloud,
Whilst early Larks their Mattens sung aloud
A grateful Hymn to welcome the glad sight
Of Heav'ns First-born Blessing, Earth's Delight,
The smile of Nature, and bright Paraphrase
On other Blessings, finer of the Cha's:
When he who never sleeps, lightned mine eyes,
Bad me to life from death-like sleep arise:
[Page 2]Whether some subtil Beam my clouded sense
Pierc'd, or Lights secret quickning influence;
I knew 'twas day, left Sleep and Bed, which have
Such lively Pictures of sad Death and Grave:
And having lift to him my Heart and Voice,
Who makes each Morn's out-going to rejoice;
I and my Friend pursu'd our wont delights,
With new fresh Air to recreate our Sp'rits;
Our Walk a River bounded on one side,
Whose Chrystal Streams with lulling Murmurs glide
By goodly florid Banks: On th' other hand
An Ancient Venerable Grove did stand;
A Grove, which Nature strove to beautifie
With much and wonderful Variety:
Tho well-bough'd Trees gave a refreshing Shade,
Yet Phoebus gentle Beams of Flowers made,
Of Herbs and Fruits such stores as might content
The exigence of Use and Ornament:
O rural, sweetest pleasures! here a mind
Abstract from Earth, lost Paradise might find,
Enjoying Paradise's chiefest Grace,
Whilst she contemplates God in Natures Face:
The Birds among the Branches Anthems chant
To his great VVisdoms Excellence, which can't
Forget to teach, how they all Art may shame,
In building Houses of exactest frame;
Higher and lower as by Prophesie:
VVhat would th' approachng Summers temper be,
To nurse their dear young in, till they them bring,
To trust in open Heaven to their VVing.
[Page 3]Here poor young Ravens by unnatural
Parents expos'd; gaping to Heaven call,
VVhich hears their piteous Importunities,
And answers their dumb Pray'rs with quick supplies;
Filling their mouths with Flies, or fertile Dews,
Or somewhat else: But whatsoe're we chuse,
Of Divine Goodness here's a pregnant sense,
And signal wonder of its Providence:
This all the neighbouring fields and vallies round,
In ecchoing responses still resound:
All Cattel using Morn, Noon, Evening-tide,
One Common-Prayer to him that doth provide
Their food in season, rewards liberally
Their Nat'ral Religions Liturgy:
Immence Intelligence! which bruits dost guide,
By rules above all Philosophick Pride:
Men call them natural instincts, imprest
On their wild Fancies, leading to the best
Preservatives of their dear natures good,
As if by reasons conduct understood.
How would the new-hatch'd Duck by innate Love,
VVithout example, to the Puddles move?
The untaught Cockatrice into the ground
An entry strive to make where none was found?
VVhilst gen'rous Eagles from a like delight,
Attempt with unfletcht wings, a nobler flight:
What other dictates prompt young Hares, or Deer,
Ne'r yet made game, to flee with swift-foot, fear
[Page 4]The little Hound, who graze, yet never quake,
By fierce-lookt Bulls of a tremendous make.
Nor do the meanest Vegetables want
Their part in this; good God's on every Plant;
Each shows a signature unto the eye;
A fair plain impress of Divinity;
Which no malicious hand can ere deface,
But ruining the creatures native Grace:
No more than that fam'd * Artizan's great name,
To whom Minerva's Target ow'd its Frame,
Would to be raz'd by time, or envy, yield,
Without the joint-defacing of the Shield:
Their cunning make contriv'd so curiously,
Of parts a useful multiplicity;
Their due observance of set-times for growth,
Some with more speed, and some with greater sloth,
That strange variety which may be found,
In one good natur'd little plot of Ground;
Their charming beauties, Perfumes natural,
And active Virtues most Medicinal:
Their occult sympathetick Qualities,
With their eternal strange Antipathies:
All which we here contemplate, sober sense,
In force to own, to proclaim Providence:
But, vanity of men! we disbelieve
What's far remote, with disregard receive
What's nigh, as if who nearest Temples lye,
Were re'lly farthest from the Deity.
[Page 5]Plant Animal, within our walk ne're moves,
Nor can we speak of the Palmetto's loves:
But here you'l see Lillies on every hand,
Cloath'd all with Virgin-white in orders stand;
Which tho themselves do neither toil nor spin,
Yet far outgallant Israel's pompous King;
Yes, in the most serene and brightest day
Of his most flourishing and glorious May.
So that thy Faith, Reason, and Sense shall yield
A God to cloath the Lillies of the Field.
Nor is young Eglantine here without sense
Of his sweet, kind, benign Influence;
Which through its uncleft vail steals safely home,
VVith virile heat into its Virgin-womb;
When round it first a spinie fence he forms,
To shroud its tender tirements from the storms;
Replete with Heavens Dews, it spreads, and swells,
Grows fair, full-cheek'd, yet by its blushes tells,
And tacitely confesses, that it knows,
'Tis not to be compar'd with Sharon's Rose.
Thus by these sensless beauties excellence,
VVe guess at Beauties Flowers quintessence.
No wonder was a Garden first design'd
For mans most noble contemplating mind;
The Scene of the First Adam's Happiness,
And of the Second Adam's great * Converse:
Yet here our Veneration's much at odds,
VVith what Egypians paid their noble Gods:
[Page 6]Their Gardens are their Temples, whence arise
Thick sets of Leek, and Onion Deities.
Sordid Religion! true, we can't neglect,
To visit our fair Grove with much respect;
A School of natural Theology,
Each Plant a Preacher of the Deity:
But to adore the work for Love or Fear,
Is to affront the Maker, not indear.
Yet I remind, I said, on t'other hand,
An Ancient Venerable Grove did stand;
Yes, Venerable for the Companies
Of sacred Creatures, dazling Mortal eyes:
VVhether they were of real Flesh refin'd,
Or else in any shapes were all pure mind,
I can't resolve; but where they trod, that ground,
Methinks, commands a Reverence profound;
'Twas here we heard a voice, as we pass'd by,
VVhich quickly mov'd our swift cur'osity:
VVe search'd, and looking round, my friend es­py'd,
Under a Beech whose Boughs were thick and wide,
Two Nymphs; whose form and Visage did be­speak
Something in them extraord'nary great,
But Dress and Gestures; some that sought relief,
Under a long and sore afflicting grief:
Alas! said he, two Angels from on high,
Come to Condole Caitiff Mans misery.
[Page 7]I through this bushy Covert see the Tears,
VVhich their bright Eyes shed in their Ev'ning pray'rs;
By last nights cold (good God) they look so meek,
Congeal'd to pearl on their sad pallid Cheek:
Their Names we heard not, yet judg them to be,
VVhat we found new engraven on the Tree;
Here lately sate forlorn Theophobe,
VVith her dear Sister, scorn'd Philarete,
Twins born of Eusebia, write the sage
In Time's Beginning, and the VVorlds first Age:
As they have been Companions in their Birth,
So undivided will they be in Death:
The End of the First Part.

OF GOD IN THE CREATURE. PART II.

BUT as some Rivers in the salt sea drown'd,
Are undebauch'd, with native sweetness found.
So these blest minds untainted piety,
Amidst a flood of vicious misery:
From dunghil fumes there's no defilement done
To these imbodied beams of the Suns Son:
No, tho we see them fall on such base ground,
Yet pure with strong reflection they rebound:
They'midst their tears prelude in sweet accents,
Their morning Song to the Omnipotent's
[Page 9]Great Glory, VVisdom, Pow'r, and rich Goodness,
Display'd in wonders through the Universe.
Tune up (our Spirits) your Holy Harmonies,
And let your full-fletch'd praises mount the Skies:
Bless your Almighty Parent's sacred name,
To whom you owe this your immortal Frame.
Eternal King! thy Royal Excellence
Transcends the world's whole vast circumference;
It's Scepter rules the Heavens in its Hand,
It holds the pond'rous Globe of Sea and Land,
Filling beyond the Empyreum high,
The boundless deserts of Immensity.
Glory and Beauty ever thee Infold,
As some incorruptible Cloath of Gold.
The Sun and Moon, great Luminaries, given
To Beautify the outward Courts of Heaven;
VVith all the Stars bespangling blackfac'd night,
Are brightish shades of thy primeval light,
No more to that, than what dark nights permit,
In putrid Sticks to play the Hypocrite;
Or in Glow-worms; can come in splendor near
A Summer Solstice highest in its Sphere.
VVith this thy Royal Palace flows alone,
VVith this thou cloathest thy blest self and Throne.
O! strong ey'd Eagles dare not it behold,
Twould blind the Cherubim, were they too bold
Unvail'd to gaze on, tho in proper place,
The brightness of the Beatifick Face.
VVhat tongues of men, or Angels, can express
Thy Kingdom's unconceived Gloriousness;
[Page 10]Tho shadow'd out, and glim'ringly descri'd
By Heaven's most magnificent outside!
It's Glorious Host, all with great Letters Write
God in their Frontispiece by their own Light,
Their Light shows his, which never knew to rise,
Wax, Wane, Eclipse, and never setting dies;
Their Order his, each motion of them tend
To that, which none but he that made can mend,
Nor Solve the least Phenomena of it
By their Romantick Whirli-pools of Wit.
He Rules them all with Law, which by consent
Unanimous they all Obey, content
To move on their own Centers, as they were
First bad, like Fishes in a Sea of Air:
By no informing Life of Reason, Sense,
Nor outward assisting Intelligence.
Old Sages dreams, except that mind profound,
Which every where, and no where can be found,
Piercing unseen all things, which we may call
The only truly Universal Soul.
This first these mighty Machins did display,
Keeps still in well-tun'd motion, since that day,
No clash, no jar; who this Contemplates, hears
The Pythagorean Musick of the Spheres.
Which speaks (great God of Peace) the Harmony
Of thy most Wise Celestial Hierarchy;
And of thy Universal Monarchy.
Their vig'rous Vertues shew their Makers strength,
Which knows no height, or depth, no breadth or length.
[Page 11]How cheerful goes the Sun? Like some Bridegroom
Advancing forth of his attiring Room,
Adorn'd with Gold, and Gemms on every side,
Burning to meet the Lovely sloathful Bride,
Whom Bedded, Moon and Stars by his lent light
Revel, and Dance out the Ensuing night.
Nor knows their Cheer decay; but each days Sun
Doth like a Wine-refreshed Giant run;
His Race no stop, his Labour loves no Rest,
That all may with his Life-full Heat be Blest.
From their Harmonious Courses time begun,
And seasons with their various Tempers sprung;
Day into Night, Spring into Autumn dyes,
With these; and after dead, with these arise:
Besides their common Influence, and light,
The Stars in Martial Mode his Battels Fight,
Who calls them all to Muster by their Names,
And of their force a dread Militia Frames;
Witness thou Ancient River Fam'd Kishon,
Thou Gibeon, and thou Vale of Aijalon.
They March in Order at his bare Command,
And at his word 'midst their Carreers they stand.
Beneath these Glorious Globes; next thou spread'st out
(What a rare Orb of Immixt Fire about,
Or in the Ample hollow of the Moon,
Which Astronomick Hawks would spy out soon,
Were not its Nature so Refin'dly good,
Not to be seen, felt, heard, or understood?
No; Thou (great Wisdom) which o're all dost reign
Created'st nought in Natures Frame in vain).
[Page 12]The Liquid Heaven of Expanded Air,
A spacious Tent Magnificently Fair;
Three noble Stories compassing Earth's Globe,
Stupendious Frame rooft with a Starry Robe.
The low'rmost Room, where Winged Creatures Fly,
Hath hanging Waters for its Canopy,
In which the Architect hath lay'd the Floor,
And Beams of his Etherial Chambers o're:
Wond'rous Geometry! these without fear
On Waters Lean, Waters on Fleeting Air.
There March the Clouds, which the great King of Kings
Rules as his Chariots, Wheel'd with swift Winds
On which he Rides Triumphant, when Descends wings,
To work his Judgments, and his Mercies ends;
Hence roar (dread Might) thy great Artillery,
When thou speak'st Thunder from the Flaming Sky:
Tho mostly conduits, thorow which thy hands
Make glad with Streams of Fatness, Thirsty Lands,
O! the unseen, Divinest Majesty,
Vouchsaf'd in Shining Clouds to Humane Eye!
Like Doves, and Eagles, with their outspread wing,
They hover, light, and Glorious Angels bring,
Courtiers of Heaven, to represent the mind
Profound, which no quick Lynceus's Eye can find;
Who by his Ministers thus oft appears,
Sometimes in Flames, sometimes white subtil Airs.
As Stars, Fire Air, by motion do his will,
So heavy Earth obeys by standing still:
[Page 13]Lo, how it stands on it self firmly bas't
The World's fix'd center, by deep wisdom plac't,
That poiz'd with its own weight 'midst fluid Air
Can fall no way (O hand which plac'd it there!)
Unless quite cross to Nature it should soon
Fall upwards; Mountains tumbling to the Moon.
O thou, whose Throne's above the lofty Skies,
In Glory unapproacht by mortal Eyes!
If we descend beneath the silent Cells
Of all the Dead, thy boundless Self there dwells.
We find thee in vast Treasures without end,
Which nought but Avarice can comprehend.
Art thou not in the Mother Waters deep?
Near to the Region's confines, where no sleep
Allays the restless pains of Damned Souls
In blackest darkness, who with horrid Howls
Ring doleful Knells to their Eternal Death,
Which ever Lives, whose pangs are still in birth.
Or could we with the mornings wings take flight
To th' utmost Sea, swift as a Dart of Light,
Thy right Hand in a thought us apprehends,
Which far beyond all tracts of Sea extends.
'Twas thy out-stretched Arm, which cloath'd the Globe
Of Earth with Sea, first as a water'd Robe,
Then a wav'd belt, wonder of wisdom made
For maintenance of Universal Trade
Betwixt all Lands: with Law it Ebbs and Flows,
Which all Eyes see; how, no grand Sophy knows:
It's Tow'ring Floods at thy rebuke are lay'd,
And fly, at thy loud Thunder's Voice afraid.
[Page 14]As in just Noah's days, when for mens sins,
To Clouds, dens'd Air, Sea, Treasure-house of Springs,
Thy fury let an uncontrouled way
To make the Universe one Shoreless Sea:
Waves 'bove the tops of Hills lift their proud head,
At thy Command, at thy Command they fled;
Aw'd all by thy rebuke's Majestick Grace,
With haste away to their appointed place;
And tho they now like Mountains rise, again
Fall down, like Vallies to a spacious Plain:
Their bounds are fixt by thine Almighty hand,
Which rein's their rage with nought but cords of Sand,
That they shall ne're return to drown the Land.
Through spungy bottoms they occultly creep
Into the Mother VVaters silent deep,
Great Treasure-House, still teeming VVomb of some
Clear, pleasant Fountains; whence sweet waters come
Through strange Meanders percolated from
The Native saltness of the Oceans VVomb;
Or who knows in what Stills from Brine Refin'd,
VVhich as the * liveless head resides behind.
Those condens'd vapours in close Caverns Love
Much to Augment; so showers from above,
VVhich VVinter Springs exalt to haughty looks,
And Rapid Torrents send from little Brooks.
Some keep the tinctures, gusts, and qualities
Of Metal Veins, through which they run and rise;
[Page 15]Well-Springs of Health, O most medicinal
(Prepar'd by Chymick Nature) mineral!
Here others meet with subterraneous Flames,
Calcining kilns, hot Sp'rits, which know no names,
Whose anger'd heat with the frigidity,
Connate to Water, fights, gains Victory
With its exasper'd force; when won the day,
VVith fumes, and boiling rage they make their way
To bath rackt Mortal's limbs, whose welcome ease
Extoll's with an eternal Song their praise.
But what e're deep-reacht Engineer hath found
Thy water-pipes (prime Nature) under ground?
Thou, that canst to the low-plac'd * Dairy say,
Send up sweet Liquors through the Milky-way;
Flow up white Rivulets, nor stay with rest
Your course, till you distend the Mothers Breast;
Or to the Read-Sea boiling in mans heart,
Send constant streams to the superior part:
Thou know'st by what protrusion these ascend
Through winding Veins to Hills from whence they bend
Their course; with deaf'ning Cataracts, like loud
Shot-Thunder roaring from a thick-wall'd Cloud;
[Page 16]Others with pleasing murmurs, till they fall
Into the greedy Ocean, which drinks all,
More than ten thousand Rivers, drinks them up,
Still fills, yet never overflows its Cup.
No, thou dost all (great Ruler of the Seas)
VVith circulating kindness save and please,
The Sea lends to be pay'd, the Fountains send
Due payment back of that the Sea doth lend:
VVhat man, and beast deduct, the Clouds again
VVith Int'rest pay, in frequent Floods of Rain;
These swell the Rivers running 'mong the Hills,
VVhereof the Field's whole Herd of Cattel fills
VVith grateful drink, their panting summer's lust,
And the wild Asses quench their Flaming Thirst:
At their descent the subject vallies ring,
VVith interchange of Eccho's, Laugh, and Sing;
Whil'st Feather'd Choristers make melody
In consort with the purling Harmony,
From their brancht banks, in Quires, which they then raise
To warble out their thankful strains of praise:
When swallows from old hollow Oaks awake,
And near thy Altars (Lord) their stations take:
When from the Baltick, Birds bring back the Spring
With swift-flight joy in their triumphing wing.
Nothing in Nature God-less can be found,
But in, through, over all God's going round.
The lofty Hills, which deprest Vallies fill
VVith streams, but on themselves can none distill;
[Page 17]His wisdom's goodness waters from above,
VVith Nectar draughts, which by his bounteous love
Sent from his clouded Chambers with fair crops
Of Grass, Herbs, Corn, enrich their arid tops:
These thankful soils exhale towards the Skies
In sumes, as morn and evening Sacrifice;
VVhich when the pow'r of Clouds vouchsafes to chuse,
As sacred Incense gives them back in dews
In token of acceptance, with access,
As of new duty, so new happiness.
Hence fruitful snows descend on gentle wing,
As if they would to Earth from Heaven bring
The Milkey-way: Fair Ermins blush to view
The lucid whiteness of their spotless hiew:
These with thy Frosts (great God of seasons) make
A winter-mantle, when thick-furr'd Bears do shake
In their close Dens, to arm the Earth from fear
Of Hostile Inrodes from a ridgid air:
Whil'st they shut up her Spirits Vegetive,
Restore, and keep her Vital Flames alive.
How cruel kind is Cold? Vain Clowns complain
Of what they have, and what not, wish again▪
They sweetly melt with willing Violence,
When by the fixed Laws of Providence
The Golden Chariot of the cheerful Sun
Doth through the fair spring-gate begin to run,
And briskly drives with a victorious grace,
Like some great Prince towards his Summers race.
The Earth unbosomes to receive his kind
Heart-piercing Beams, which a like welcome find,
[Page 18]As in a long-betrothed Virgins Arms,
Her wished Lover's most indearing Charms.
Now all the Spirits, which long dormant lay,
Towards her Surface nimbly take their way;
Both to congratulate his blest Advent,
And to renew their Amor's sweet content.
Her Divers-colour'd Easter-Cloaths appear,
Which in her Breast were Chested half the year;
And buried Grain, whil'st with new Life they grow,
A Resurrection in Effigie show.
What youthful limbs appear on aged Stocks,
And on old storm-proof heads fresh curled Locks?
Fields, Gardens, Grottoes, Groves in every part
Exceed by far all Luxuries of Art,
And much more splendid braveries display,
Than walks about Kings Courts on a May-day.
O Immense Good! what corner's destitute
Of thy stupendious works abundant Fruit?
Before hard Winter drains out Summers store,
Thy Royal Bounty timely flows in more
Plenty of springing Grass for Cattels wealth,
And ev'ry Plant for Mans Grace, Hunger, Health.
No sad complaints are heard, no mournful tones
In Streets from pining folk; no hollow groans
From empty Bowels of clean Granaries
Prevent the shouts of a new Harvest's cries;
But he that Crowns the year doth still Adorn
Each Loaf-mess with the Blessings of New Corn:
Nor have Men Bread alone (tho they't despise,
And rather Feast on Nature's spoils, their Eyes)
[Page 19]Their Hearts chief strength, which best recruits
Of Fuel to the Fire, that burns within; (can bring
Lest wanting of due Oyl, still fresh supplies,
The Lamp of Life sinks down, goes out, and dies.
No, their good God provides them lib'rally,
As well for pleasure, as necessity.
The Fat of Olives makes their Face to shine,
Supples their Joynts; whil'st the most fruitful Vine
Cheers up their Hearts with gen'rous Racie-Wine.
This Charms the Fiend of the great Benjamite,
Puts all Black Mists, and empty Clouds to flight,
And makes the mind a Heaven full of Light;
Lifts up the Dunghill Beggar from a Stone,
To make him sit with Princes on a Throne;
And tho dejected to the Gates of Death,
To Rival Angels in refined Mirth.
But ah! how Mortals change their Festivals
Into licentious bruitish Bacchinals;
Transform their noble selves to sordid Swine,
By sparkling Bowls of high Falernian Wine:
Rivers of Fire their divine spark oppress,
And Drown, and Burn the little Universe;
Ambitious of the greater's ruines names
At once to perish, both by Flood and Flames.
Thus greatest goods prove greatest hurts; the first
For excellence, are in corruption worst:
Sin into Nature the old Chaos brings,
And quite untunes the Harmony of things.
[Page 20]'Twas only after its unhappy Birth,
That Trees of Life brought forth such Fruits of Death,
Olives and Vine; which show the prosp'rous state
Of the good man with his most happy fate:
His dearest spouse is like the Bearing Vine,
Whose tender arms round its supporters twine
With chast Embraces, till from mutual Love
A noble Progeny begins to move
Of well Gemm'd Boughs, and with their clustred head
To deck the Tiles, at length to overspread
The Mansions Walls. Blest man! which hath her sight,
Comprising such rare Profit and delight.
His graceful sons appear as in the East,
Where Men for Pleasure in cool Arbours Feast;
Those Olive-Branches, which are Planted round
Their Summer Tables on a Florid ground.
So all thy Trees (good Lord) declare the same
Great Honour of-thy Celebrated Name.
Thy Name, which all were Graven on their barks,
And if we look within, they all are Arks
Carrying a wonder-working God: without
All art of man, repleat with sap they sprout,
They spread, and Flourish, till they grow so high
To threaten with their tops the starry sky.
What Cedars Crown (proud Lebanus) thy Land,
So Planted there, dread Lord, by thy Right Hand,
That from less than a shrub a num'rous race
Of sweet-wood Turrets should adorn one place?
Nor are they all for Palaces, and thine
Own sacred Temples Majesty Divine;
[Page 21]But for less than half-farthing Birds to nest
Themselves, taught by thy Wisdom where is best
For their dear safety from ill Vermin's hurt;
So is the Fir the Stork's exalted fort.
The Wild Goats save themselves by speedy flight
To craggy Mountains, from the Hunters sight:
As tim'rous Conies by good Providence
Find clifted Rocks for Houses of defence.
Thus, all, whom no projecting reason arms,
Well Bulwark'd Nature guards, and saves from harms,
Nor are apt times forgot for getting Food,
The Hunter sleeps, they seek their Livelihood.
For as the pale Moon by her various Reign
Of seasons constitutes a constant Train,
Months, Feasts, so knows the Sun both time and place,
When, where to rise; when, where to hide his Face;
From East he rides still o're the Western Seas
To give good Morrow to th' Antipodees,
Deputing Moon and Stars by his lent Light,
To give the upper Hemisphere good Night.
The shades fall greater from the tops of Hills,
And smoak of Cottages the Country fills,
Whose painful Swains refresh'd with honest meat
That day acquired by their foreheads sweat,
On strawy Pillows lye more truly blest
VVith Jacob's Visions, and sweet-dreaming rest,
Than mighty Kings, who lay their busie heads
In Tyrian Curtains on rich Downy Beds.
And now's the time, when one black fleece of Night
Sometimes but strip't with strakes of twinkling Light,
[Page 22]To humane Eyes solicites grateful sleep,
And draws the Woods inhabitants to creep
Out from their secret places to appease
Their hunger's spurs, impatient of delays;
The Royal Lions Whelps roar on their way,
And seek of thee (great God of might) their prey,
As Infants with strong importunities
Implore their Mothers tender Ears, and Eyes:
Their robust Nerves their swift pursuit prevent,
And fiery temper their sagacious Sent;
But oh! wise Providence! how that supplies,
What their own natures exigence denies!
Are not observant Jackales still at hand
To Hunt what their fierce Appetites demand?
Nor dares the Prey when found, these Princes fly,
They Thunder-strike it dead with fear to die;
Whose stomacks satisfi'd, still some remains
Reward their Sedulous Purveyor's pains.
Thus all night long they Triumph in the Field;
And Civil States to Savage Licence yield:
But when the Morning's Herauld with a cry
Proclaims, fair Phosphorus approacheth nigh
To Usher in the Sun, which now draws near
To guild the Suburbs of the Hemisphere;
They haste away to hide their fearful heads,
And lay them down together in their Beds.
The shades all vanish at Aurora's blush;
And thankful Birds break off the profound hush
Of silent darkness, as they then begin
Their Morning Song to the Celestial King.
[Page 23]Man with new Vigour goes forth to his work,
VVhil'st the disturbers of his quiet lurk
In sleeping Dens, until the Evening Star
Proclaims cessation to his toil; so far,
No farther, is thy foreheads sweat decreed,
Let welcome rest, and kind sweet-sleep succeed,
Renew exhausted Sp'rits: thus day and night
To man and beast by turns bring fresh delight.
O Lord! how manifold are thy great acts?
VVhat wisdom shines in all thy noble facts?
Thy matchless Riches in vast pomp possess
The utmost Limits of Earth's Universe:
So of thy restless Sea, whose spacious hands
VVith wide Embraces circle all the Lands;
There Various Kinds of swimming Creatures Live,
Both great and small, which mighty wonders give
Of something more Unfathom'd than that deep,
VVhere some move swift, some with slow motion creep.
There dwells that proud Leviathan, which plays
VVith Fishes, Ships, Sands, Rocks, with winds, and Seas;
Sporting all other Empire to Disdain
But thine, and mans, as Subject to thy Reign,
VVho mad'st both it to Triumph over them,
And man Vice-roy to Lord it over him;
In wooden Castles wing'd with suited winds
Out of thy Treasures, how he flies, and finds
A passage to all Lands through Seas? No rest,
Till he returns fraught with the East and West.
[Page 24]When thou (good God!) command'st the Storm to rise
On swelling Floods he mounts up to the Skies
Then (with what grisly horror who can tell)
Descends down quick into the Jaws of Hell,
He reels, and staggers like one drunk, now tost
From post to stem, then back from stem to post;
No observation of glad Sun, or Stars,
Nor hears he ought, but winds, and waves in VVars;
Except contending thunder to out-vie
The Dog-mad rage of their tempestuous cry.
VVhat shall he do, distressed Soul? Because
His melting Heart like breaking waters flows?
He cries to God, who lays the storm to sleep,
And bids that Mountain Seas do humbly creep.
The Heaven is Unmant'led, looks serene,
And joyful head-lands come in ken again:
So from Deaths Gulf he in triumphing sort,
VVith Flags Display'd spins in the wished Port.
O that they would, dread God! thy wonders teach,
And through the world thy Immense goodness preach
To man! to man, whose nature seems to vye
VVith Glorious Angels for Nobility,
His High-Born Soul from Unborn God descent
(O his delight, and sweetest Ornament!)
Disdains the pettish frowns of Austere Fate,
And overlooks in Triumph Mortal State;
Soar's far above the Fun'ral pile on high
With Eagles wings up to Eternity
To live when Nature, and when Death shall die.
[Page 25]Nor did her house eclipse the happiness,
And Grandeur of its honourable Guess:
Its form spoke at first sight it did inshrine
Something at least by Parentage divine;
Above the force of a material vein,
Unapt but for a gross ignoble strain;
Whilst other creatures look'd towards the ground,
Man only with an upright face was found:
VVhich his great Maker will'd to lift intent
Up to the Stars, the place of his descent,
By a fifth Muscle; which in none we find,
But in mans eye, for upward looks design'd.
But how that fair Soul in the Mire now lies,
VVhich clogs her Eagle-wings, and soils her eyes
With noisome steams that like an earth-bred mole,
Sadly degenerate [...], tho not in whole;
She badly mounts, much less sustains the sight,
Without regret of any thing that's bright:
How is the mighty fallen (Noble Soul!)
Not by a fortun'd, but a chosen fall;
First from thy being's fundamental Law,
A Transcript of th' Eternal, without Flaw;
Then from the Stars down to the lowest rate
Of bruitish life with thy corporeal Mate;
Chang'd from a Temple to a noisome Sty
Of languid sloth, and vile impurity:
The Divine Image lies intomb'd within
A living Carkass, walking Grave of Sin:
Reason dethrones its self; Sense without fear
Usurps the Throne; wild Passions domineer;
[Page 26]The Will yields freely her Imperial right
To the tyrannic Lusts of Appetite:
O Chaos of Confusion! whence such Pride?
Do Masters lacquey, whilst their servants ride?
And Kings make up their subjects humble Train
Of captive Vassals to confirm their Reign?
Awake the Earth's great Monarch! will he have
Ought but the Title of a Royal Slave?
Let him be King of, and in Man, to none
Subject, but his great Lords Eternal Throne,
Of whom he holds his Diadem in Fee;
By whom Kings reign, and Princes do decree:
Knock off his Chains, let him to purpose know,
Himself the rightful Lord of all below;
So shall the people of the Air, Sea, Field,
Pay humble Homage, and due Tribute yied:
For hold they not of thee their breath and lives,
From whom mans Throne its Origine derives?
Their eyes wait all on thee; thy copious hand
Fills all their mouths with good by sea and land:
Thou giv'st them meat in season, they rejoice
To gather it; when thou conceal'st thy voice
They mourn in silence; when thou hid'st thy Face,
Their beauty falls, and all their goodly Grace:
When thou withdraw'st thy breath, their spirits flye,
And they resolved into ashes, dye.
And should thy Pow'r one moment but suspend
Its act, whole Nature makes a sudden end:
[Page 27]Heaven and distant Earth would soon come near;
Each Star drop down from its transparent sphere;
The Moon would cease to yield her various light,
And Sun himself be darkned into night;
The Fire for want of heat, would chill to death;
The Air breathe out its last in one groans breath;
Mountains would skip away like frighted Rams;
And all the little Hills like fearful Lambs;
VVater and Earth would be again commixt,
As when no order was in Nature fixt;
The Elements confus'd in one rude Mass;
Yes, all would swift into prime Nothing pass:
Nor were it hard that then thou should'st renew
This ruin'd Theatre to publick view;
VVhose Word could in a thought bring on the stage,
The peaceful worlds most happy Golden Age:
Thy Majesty in all thy works renown'd,
Beyond all time, sends an amazing sound;
How when he frowns, the earth distracted shakes,
As with a strong Convulsion groans and quakes,
And rends with grief at what his fury can
To unrelenting Rocky-hearted man:
The smitten Mountains smoak, belch out and burn,
As if they would all into embers turn:
But what art thou, fierce Aetna! which dost raise,
VVith flaming Rivers, the Cicilian Seas,
To them, which the consuming fire did rain
On Sodom's and Gomorrah's sinful Plain?
And they but puny sparks to that great lake
Of Flames prepared for the damned's sake:
[Page 28]There burn, yet never burnt, the godless sp'rits,
Of evil men and Angels, which the lights
Of Nature, Grace, and Glory would despise,
Beyond redress, with bold contemptuous eyes:
But we, whilst being lasts, Immortal King,
VVill thy great Names exalted Praises sing:
VVe thy Delight, and thou our Joy shalt be,
In us thy Glory, and our Bliss in thee.
Glory to God the Father, Son, and Sp'rit,
One boundless Fountain of Eternal Light:
As ever 'twas before all time begun,
So is, and ever shall, when time is done.
The End of the Second Part.

OF GOD IN THE CREATURE. PART III.

THus sung these Nymphs: but as the clearest day,
Is not without some passing Clouds; so may,
And often doth the most Celestial Mind,
This side the Moon, molesting passions find;
Passions in bounds, moving to proper ends,
Commence not Rebels, but are Reasons Friends:
Friends to Devotion: what diviner proves,
Than holy raging, holy mourning loves?
[Page 30]Such mudless Floods fill'd, and all day opprest
The holy God-mans unpolluted breast:
Stoicks are stocks, or else 'twixt them and Gods,
'Tis hard to find out any real odds:
No, They'r above by their grave Senate's voice;
God's calm by Nature, they by gen'rous choice:
Egregious Pride! vaunt men an Apathy,
Not found in Angels Immortality!
They joy when we do well, then no doubt weep
To see us buri'd in Lethargick sleep:
So these dear Twins from joy to sorrow turn,
To think how Vice triumphs, and Vertues mourn.
Some whiles a profound silence occupies
Their lips and looks; then tears flow from their eyes.
PHILARETE
speaks.
At length Philarete, alas, our age,
Exil'd from Converse to a Hermitage!
Good God! why might not vertue sometimes fear
An Inter-Regnum of thy Royal Care;
Seeing her vanquisht self so trodden down,
And her proud Rival circl'd with a Crown?
THEOPHOBE.
To say the world in a blind Atom-dance,
Stumbled into its beauteous form by chance,
More Phrenzy speaks, than that without a hand
Sweet David's Psalter should be writ in Sand:
[Page 31]Nor is it less to think, 'tis left to lye,
Without its Makers over-ruling eye:
Rich Sheba's Queen, without sight or report,
Of the wise Jew, might see him in his Court:
Such Beauty shows the Lord's Magnificence;
Its constancy his watchful Providence.
When Nature in a Sea floats there and here,
There needs some constant Pilot at the Steer.
PHILARETE.
All this is plain; but that a special eye
Is fixt on men, dumbs all Philosophy:
'Twould rather speak a Goddess, Fortune blind,
To raise the base, depress the noble mind.
THEOPHOBE.
Philosophy must grant, that active love,
Which on the dark Abyss did gently move,
To hatch the World, and now with tender wings,
Kindly protects the Universe of things;
Leaves not their Lord, Compendium of them all,
For making whom it did a Council call,
Of the most wise Three-One; a clear presage
Of some dear Offspring in its own Image:
This were to null the Laws of all wise Love,
And make it like the cruel Ostrich prove;
Whose Iron Bowels leave her harmless Egg,
To wait the crush of every chancing Leg;
[Page 32]And yet indeed Philosophy can't sound
The depths of Providence, which know no ground.
Much more exceeding shallow humane brain,
Than shells fall short of the unfathom'd Main:
Shall men explode a Being without end,
Because no finite can it comprehend?
Question the Ocean too, you may as well,
Because you cannot hold it in a Shell:
Question a real Sun, you may as soon,
Because not to be lanthorn'd at high-noon.
This knew the ancient Hero's, and the more,
For adverse fate, did meekly this adore;
Making their Reason, when they saw it fail,
In these great deeps to strike to Faith the sail:
By Fortunes looks 'twas never understood,
How to discern the vicious from the good:
For that bright Saint, the man of Gods own Heart,
Had both of smiles, and of her frowns his part,
PHILARETE.
Yet they complain'd their Faith fail'd to behold,
Vertue in rags, and Vice in vests of Gold:
Yes, famous singers of the inspired Quire,
Not with a common but Seraphick Fire.
THEOPHOBE.
[Page 33]
Their Faith recoil'd, yet trembling, till it whole
Return'd like Magnet-needles to the Pole:
It shook, not fell, as by a strong surprize
The Fort of Life and Spirit, swoons, not dies.
Such conflicts (Sister) bring forth happy fruits,
As well-set Trees by storms get firmer Roots:
No Fight, no Palm, the Church Triumphant's found'd
Upon the Militant its Purple Ground;
Nor would blest Vision bring such unthought joy,
Had not Faith here been mixt with some alloy.
PHILARETE.
But emulation frequently possest,
With envious Flames these holy Fathers Breast,
To see with dropping eyes, the impious ride
At Anchor in so high Pacifick tide ⸫
Of happiness, to sail when, where they please,
With Winds at will, in smooth obedient Seas:
No Sands, Rocks, Remora's the course impede,
Where their desires them uncontrouled lead;
Through right & wrong, devoid of fear and care,
Displaying their proud Streamers through the air.
No heavy bands, cry'd they, of griping pain,
From hasty Fate their pleasant race restrain?
[Page 34]But life runs freely in one even thread,
As in the Weaver's smooth, unknotted Web,
Drawn by kind constant Fortune out at length,
To extream Age, crown'd with vivacious strength.
And when they must unbound'd by pangs or fear,
They fleet and vanish like a puff of air.
A death like to their life; which free from stings
Of humming cares, which Vertue swarming brings
To her perplexed lovers, sweetly flows
In pleasure, which no Plagues, no sorrow knows.
The Clouds let fall more than their houses take;
Nor could their minds just hopes or wishes make,
Equal to their envi'd Felicity,
Which drops uncar'd, uncall'd for from the Sky:
This swells their hearts with Insolence and Pride,
Blows up their breasts with airy thoughts so wide,
That self-adoring Zeal, rules and gives thence
The Reins to a Tyrannick Violence;
Their big words terrifie the Minor sort,
Who throng in crouds at their great Names re­port;
Prone to adore a Glorious Rising Sun,
Altho it burns as oft as shines upon.
Nor stay their Tongues on Earth, but threat the Stars,
From their proud Babels, with Gigantick Wars.
No silent Murmurs, but defiance loud,
Tush, the most High sits careless in a Cloud:
Doth God see this, and yet (who all sin blames)
Abstain from Thunder, from vindictive flames!
These are the men that prosper, these are blest
With Riches, Honours, unmolested rest;
[Page 35]Leaving their Sons a great enobled Name,
And landed Mansions called by the same:
In vain do some, as living Temples, clean
Their broken-hearts, in vain their hands contain
In Innocence; in vain, for Vertues sake,
Reproaches, Taunts, (what not?) with Patience take;
Whilst prosp'rous Vice is Vertue; Fiends are made
The only Saints in modish Masquerade!
But I desist, lest seem to disapprove
Their select Lot, whom hoped Glories move.
THEOPHOBE.
Thus holy Men indeed might greatly slide,
When they presum'd to measure things so wide,
With their short Feet, and by Vertigo fall,
Weighing their God in the uncertain Scale
Of humane Brain, trusting to their own Wit,
They might, benighted still in darkness sit:
But when with groping tired, they recurr'd
To go with a pure heart, and humble Word
Into the Sacred Courts; there by address
To lively Oracles, the happiness
Of Vertues Foes was seen, and crowning ends,
Not to be greatly envi'd by her Friends;
The mighty Patience, whilst that long it spares
The Grandeur of its Glory, thus declares;
And writes fair Lines for Mortals to transcribe,
Which greedily (ah grief!) Revenge imbibe:
Should Heaven thus reward, we might think well,
The Earth long since must needs be made a Hell;
[Page 36]It spares, and offers Mercy; who refuse,
Are left without all shadow of excuse:
And whom no gentle Flames of Love can turn,
To melt, the all-consuming Fire will burn:
Burn up those Rods with which the King of kings
Doth use to scourge his Subjects for their sins:
Lifted, like Eagles Cockles, up on high,
O how they fall! much, much more heavily
From lofty Turrets down to dismal Cells,
From fanci'd Heavens into real Hells;
Made fat, and deckt, as Beasts by Votaries
Design'd, and kept till fit for Sacrifice;
Their peccant fulness turns to a disease,
No poison's worse than that which loves to please:
In pleasant Philtrums, or in Candid Pills;
First it delights, then toxicates and kills;
No plenty heals, but much dilates the sore;
As drinking, Feavers are inflam'd the more:
Give, give, like barren Wombs, the Miser cries,
New wants abound still with his New supplies:
What tho their Gayeties may long look brisk,
And whilst the Sun shines, kindly dance and frisk,
As all Fanatick shews; yet at the last
The black Day comes, with speed, tho not with hast;
Vengeance falls on at once, nor brooks remands,
Altho with leaden Feet, yet Iron Hands:
When Divine Furies, thus in storm arise,
Ill Treasure with its Lords, dispersed flies;
As Golden Images, which use to creep
In to illude the sanguine Dreamers sleep,
[Page 37]Leave nought but melancholick thoughts behind,
To the awaken'd, vain, deceived mind:
But grant a life, (which is too rare to see)
Were wholly spent in perfect Comedy;
Yet what's all Time to Ever? it appears
Less than a Moment to Ten Thousand Years:
For take each moment, Millions from the Score,
Still there remain Millions of Millions more:
Nor could all Requiems united, spell
The ingrate sounds of one eternal Knell,
Which pierce and grate not less, but much the more,
For too sweet Sirens Musick heard before.
Sometimes the darling proves a discontent
To her own Lover; Crime is Punishment:
Alas! 'tis seen when men grow mostly sage,
They curse, not worship, in their cooled Age
Those Delilah's, to which as Deities,
Their Youth would Life and Fortune Sacrifice:
Now anxious Breasts eccho in sighs and groans,
The mindful grating of their tortur'd bones;
Nor is the calm-look'd sinner less opprest
With secret Furies, which will know no rest,
But intertwine their Scorpion Hairs with his
Most soft embraces of indeared bliss;
His Minion Snake, which no wise voice can charm,
The very bosom stings which keeps it warm:
So that his Life, as to the inward Scheme,
Transcribes Prometheus Vulture for its Theme.
His looks, like Aetna's, may wear Snow without,
Yet Bowels burn with Flames which ne'r go out,
[Page 38]Till swallow'd up in greater, they unite,
With the black Fires of an eternal night,
Which imbred Scenes of Judgment represent,
Anticipating long the dire Event.
PHILARETE.
A sorry bliss, which soon as pressed, must
Like Sodom's Apples, crumble into dust:
Sad sweets, which when into the belly fall,
Like Saint John's Book, are turned into Gall.
Who would not fly such dear Felicities,
Which surely end in endless Precipice?
THEOPHOBE.
But had true Vertue nothing to entice,
But her fair self; yet that sweet Paradise
Alone might be sufficient to engage
In vestal Flames a whole Platonick Age:
The great Kings Daughter, Brightness of his Face,
His reflex Image, and the first in place:
Of his dear Offsprings, deckt all o're with Gems,
Which outshine Stars, eclipse all Diadems
Which wealthy Ophir ever could supply,
Or force of seven Flames could purifie:
Blest man! whose Spouse she is, what heart but his
Can think the Raptures of their Nuptial Bliss?
She's brought unto him most divinely drest,
By curious hands, in an embroider'd Vest:
[Page 39]Her Virgin Cousins bear her Company;
A band of Graces: Oh! what melody,
What august Pomp, when to consummate all,
They pass up to her Father's Royal Hall?
But whilst this side, what's his blest Bosom less,
Than a calm Heaven full of Happiness?
At least an Angel standing Centinel,
With charge to see that all may here go well.
No turbid VVinds blow in this sedate Sky;
But lest its Air inclines to putrifie,
Then Thunder too, which tho with dread con­sumes,
Or well dispels the pestilentious Fumes.
PHILARETE.
But few, alas! court Vertue for great Names;
Fair Pictures take not, but in tempting Frames:
Were Man indeed a pure Intelligence,
His Love might rest in naked Excellence:
But whilst his Soul is clad with sluggish flesh,
It must with counter-tending Sense commerce;
She like the Hawk would soar; this as a weight
Ti'd to her feet, impedes her native flight
To speculate abstracted Purities,
And beauty in Celestial Ivories;
From whence she might with scorn look down and smile
On this poor Mole-hill, fordid Domicile;
Where Men as Ants, creeping in dirt appear;
Passing in toil, and death-like Sleep, the Year.
[Page 40]But where tends this? Since Sainting is a trade,
And Vertue dies, where sense sees no reward?
THEOPHOBE.
Man truly is well like a Diamond,
Some parts of Earth, some taken from the Sun;
By them too dull he sees not; these are bright
Enough to show rewards in darkest night.
PHILARETE.
The boundless Goodness said, he would adorn
Vertue with Riches, and exalt her Horn
VVith Honour, whilst all hostile Nations must
Fall down vvith shame, submit, and lick her dust.
THEOPHOBE.
The Immense Good is changeless Verity,
Can cease to be, soon as begin to lye:
And were things duly vveigh'd, none could im­peach
VVhat never fails, his Promise of a breach:
I trovv, that such performance might content,
VVhich is in manner much more eminent;
If Goods of Fortune sometimes do give place
To the more rich enoblements of Grace;
'Tis mans ovvn folly thvvarts the present end,
To vvhich true Vertue's paths directly tend;
[Page 41]To whom 'tis one both to command, and bless,
Espousing duty to true Happiness.
PHILARETE.
'Twas Man indeed brought in the spiny Weeds
To Rosy Beds; with which himself now Bleeds.
And yet 'tis hard, they should as much, or more,
The Vertuous than the Vitious Prick and Gore.
THEOPHOBE.
'Tis true, did they respect no unseen gain,
Vertue above all others would be vain.
But in wise methods lesser Goods must bend
To serve the greater; all, the Sovereign end.
I'm not so much a Stoick, as to chase
All goods, call'd Fortunes Gifts, from Vertues Face;
That were to strip her of Appertinents,
Which greatly serve for use, and Ornaments.
But where their absence starves out Moral ills,
And penal Evil with huge Int'rest fills
Of vertue the good man, their want abounds,
And steril soils prove the most fertile grounds.
Depression shews the grace, of which is made
For Vertues Lawrels a cool kindly shade,
To thrive, and Flourish in, maugre all hate,
Not to be Thunder-struck by frowning fate;
Which smites with barrenness the high-look'd hills,
Whil'st humble Vallies graceful plenty fills.
[Page 42]The world's great Architect about to raise
A living Temple, Trophie of his praise;
Lay's deep its prime Foundations; as we know,
The highest Towers must be based low.
PHILARETE.
Thou suck'st from Poisons, Cordials, dearest (Bee)
By a Diviner sort of Chymistry.
THEOPHOBE.
Where would appear Heroick Fortitude,
Did Vertue meet with no ungrateful feud,
In which the Enemy Augments its Bliss,
As't were by an Antiparistasis?
PHILARETE.
This doth indeed, in bearing more consist,
Than in a bold attempting of the List
In Blood, Sweat, Dust, with fierce and hardy Foes,
A little Fading Bayes to win, or lose,
THEOPHOBE.
And by Encounters still it grows more bright,
Its Armour by Attrition more Polite:
Whereas long peace contracts a sordid rust,
By lying out of Action in the dust.
[Page 43]Sometimes a light Attrition can't suffice,
And then the seventh Flame it purifies,
Till fit for those, whose courage gains the Praise
Of Great Jehovah's Argyraspides:
Invincible in that blest Kingdom's hope;
Which they prospect through faith's true Teles­cope.
This made the Noble Martyrs to defie
Their fretting Tyrants baffled Cruelty;
Which as the spight of Basilisks back flies,
Repell'd with Death into their Darting Eyes:
Whilst with more Ardent Zeal & Love they pass
In Raptures through the Burning Sea of Glass;
Preluding in sweet strains, as they march on,
To sing Blest Moses's Victorious Song.
PHILARETE.
The happy end (no doubt) known, makes a way
Perplexed pleasant; that without delay,
The Pilgrim goes, in hopes his feet shall stand
In season on the Milk and Honey Land.
THEOPHOBE.
Afflicting Means are good; tho ills of pains,
If well improv'd to gen'rous honest gains.
[...] [Page 40] [...] [Page 41] [...] [Page 42] [...] [Page 43]
PHILARETE.
[Page 44]
Yes, Socrates could Reason Worthily
In Prison, of Supream Felicity:
And Possidonius under Rack run out
In Panegyricks on his grateful Gout:
Nay, and the Stoicks wise man would be full
Of Bliss, tho mew'd in Phaleris's Bull.
PHEOPHOBE.
Such Apathies Christians adore, or mock,
Becoming well a Deity, or Stock.
Divine Philosophy in their belief
Forbids excess, not passion of their grief
When prest with evils: for it is the sense
Of them, which makes for vertues excellence.
The Royal Shepherd, much before the day
Of his Affliction, went himself astray,
Like a lost Sheep; till his great Shepherds Love
Did gently with correction drive, and move
Him to remind the Virid Pastures, where
He us'd to Feed in a benign Air
By Lympid Streams, where he might turn to lay
The Raging Ardors of a Dog-Star day.
Had Joseph not been into Prison cast,
He never had been in the Palace plac'd.
His Brethrens spight made theirs adore his Sheaf;
What they oppos'd, conduc'd to make him chief.
PHILARETE
[Page 45]
Thus much seems rough, till we in truth attend,
(And then 'tis Beauteous) the well-tim'd end:
Well-mixed White and Red do chiefly grace,
But when misplac'd, ill-mixt, deform the face:
And so events, which men can't throughly Rime,
Are Beauteous in their plenittude of time.
THEOPHOBE.
Beauty doth most consist in Symmetry,
Some parts view'd singly may unlovely be;
Yet corresponding with the whole, express
A goodly Masterpiece of Comeliness:
As Musick Notes, which will harmonious be,
Consent in whole; yet simply disagree.
And thus the rugged parts of Providence,
Could men but view their general consents,
How would their perfect Beauty, with what ease
Convert dislikes to highest strains of praise.
But this can't be (great Order!) till that they
In the high Countreys of Eternal day
Read all things in thy Beatifick Face,
Which now in part they see, as in a Glass.
Then shall they see that Wheel within a Wheel;
And that great Spirit, whose mysterious skill
With Wisdom, Courage, Care, and Eagles Wings,
Begins, carr's on, perfects events of things:
[Page 46]That they may most Harmoniously consent
For Ver [...]ue's good, his Joy and Ornament.
That Plots, Shams, Counters, by a hand unseen,
As Clocks cross-motions may concenter in,
And work in order by a secret pow'r
To bring about the happy destin'd hour.
PHILARETE.
Then Vertues pressures shall be less than light,
When Counterpois'd with Glories matchless weight.
THEOPHOBE.
And whil'st a Pilgrim, look what pleasure brings
A various mixing good and evil things.
The Glory of a Picture still is made
By due Commixtures of the Light and Shade:
So Vertue's Father, by a frown a while,
Adds much indearing sweetness to his smile.
When too much freedom makes her to contemn,
Or less respect his Royal Diadem,
Nor would the Gemms wherewith her self is Crown'd
Be much esteem'd, were they as Pebbles found:
'Tis Rarity, and hardness to obtain,
Which raise their worth, and amplifie the gain.
PHILARETE.
[Page 47]
Experience tells, as Evils are best known
By presents, so are Goods by absence shown.
And tho full Stomacks Princely Tables slight,
Yet Hunger whets the dullest appetite.
THEOPHOBE.
When he, whose Lips are Fair beyond all men,
Sollicited his Spouse 'gen and agen:
Stood at her door, till dews his head did fill,
And thence down on his Rosy Cheeks Distil;
Her love like to the Ignis-fatuus light,
When most pursu'd, then most doth take its flight.
Alas! fair one, she hath put off her Vest;
('Tis too much pain) how shall she now be drest?
The more he wooes, the nearer is at hand,
The more doth she at unkind distance stand;
But when disgusted he withdraws, O then!
He's more then Fairest of Ten Thousand Men.
His absence brings him near, his anger proves
More lovely than his most obliging Loves.
With careful looks, with dropping languid Eyes,
She walks with pitious Importunities.
Did you (I pray) my best-beloved see?
O how I burn! O bring him unto me!
At length he turns, how welcome think you may,
As to the Polar Climes, the wished day
[Page 48]After a tedious night; to see, he's proud,
His fair-one looking through a Rorid Cloud:
Absence Revirginates their chast Embrace,
And brings the Flower of their Love in place.
Thus the All-wise disposer, for Delight,
Makes sow'rs to serve to Vertues appetite.
PHILARETE.
No bodied Vertue's pure, but by commerce
With Earth contracts much noxious Sordidness.
Which unpurg'd of corrupts, consumes her wealth,
Of Beauty, Vigour, and her Treasure, Health.
THEOPHOBE.
Therefore her great Physician oft designs
Her Potions of Cathartick Medicines:
Which cannot work without some great regret
Proceeding from relucting Natures let.
And if more stout, then stronger Revulsives
Must take the place of gentle Purgatives.
PHILARETE.
Sometimes in Divine fulness she Exceeds:
THEOPHOBE.
Yes, therefore oft in vig'rous health she Bleeds,
[Page 49](O wise Physitian! lest her high-flown tide
Of Blood should ferment to the worst of pride)
Which gently oft repeated much restrains
The force of lapsed Nature's swelling Veins.
PHILARETE.
Ah Moral Vertue! but a splendid sin!
Except the Deities true fear doth bring
Thee in the way to rightly apprehend
Thy worthy Object, only worthy End:
Thou well becom'st thy name Theophobe,
Vain, vain without thee were Philarete.
THEOPHOBE.
The Royal Singer Chaunts the Divers States
Of, Just, and Unjust, with their Divers Fates; *
Which when together view'd, the good complain
Without Just Cause, the Impious boast in vain.
PHILARETE.
I wish your plainest Sense of it to hear;
(The Sun walks high) then let us disappear.
THEOPHOBE.
[Page 50]
Thrice happy man, whose Divine Soul defies
Infernal Paths of wicked Policies;
Abhorring, when seduc'd, there to abide,
Where Worldlings in Triumphant Chariots Ride:
And dreads to rest in Atheists Sweet-sleep Chair,
Or herd himself to thick Assemblies, where
Hardy Blasphemers Scornfully Proclaim
Contempt to God, reproach to Heavens Reign.
But Heavens Law is Heaven to his mind,
Where he more than Hyblean Sweets doth find.
This he Studies: witness all ye, which fly
Minutes on Down-Wings to Eternity.
All day it is his brightest Sun so far
As Sable Night, and then his Brightest Star.
Blest Soul! when Fields and Woods Rejoyce to see
Thy florid state, as of a Fruitful Tree;
Which some Experienc'd Planters skilful Hand
Hath made near to the Watry Trenches stand;
Where Fertile Streams convey Sap to its Roots
With Vital Spirit; that of Num'rous Fruits
Fair Off-Springs in due time shall still be found
To Bless with plenteous falls, the bearing Ground;
Its leaf no Autumn knows; but vernal Pride
Adorn its Aged Limbs on every side.
Thus the Blest Saint Planted in Holy Soil,
Grows by Celestial Dew, not Earthly Toil;
[Page 51]Water'd with constant Showers from above,
Which Pregnant with Ethereal Spirit, love
To Gemm forth pleasant Fruits of Various kinds
Of Divine Grace enriching Heav'nly minds.
His Leaves, external goods, which Beautify,
And shrowd the fair Fruits of his Piety:
No unkind Sun shall Burn, no Winds so Shake,
Or roughest blustring Tempests from him take,
But that his Boughs hold what does best suffice
For noble Vertues fittest Exercise:
Till prosp'ring more and more, he grows so high,
To have his florid top above the Skie.
As for the vicious vip'rous brood of Hell,
A divers direful fate hath them befell.
The most high Thunderer of wrath shall blow
A furious Whirlwind on them below,
To pluck them from their Contumacious Roots,
And toss like Chaff, or lightest Husks of Fruits;
The Air's unstable sports, which every blast
Drives from their scarce known place, and at the last
By Heaven's mighty force of Justest Ire
From Earth to restless Flames of endless Fire.
Then, when the Judg comes in a shining Cloud
With Myriads of Angelick Troops aloud;
Sounding with mighty Trumps a gen'ral call,
Awake ye dead, arise, and stand forth all.
The Judg, the Judg! how will these Miscreants
The Radient Crown of his Imperial Head.
Their trembling Joynts an horrid Palsy fills,
Whil'st they beg shelter of the Rocks, and Hills:
[Page 52]Dying to see thick Legions of Saints bright
In Sunbeam Armour of Meridian Light;
Who with United Votes applaud, and hum
Those miserable Caitiffs final doom.
For now the All-wise Arbiter approves
The goings of his precious harmless Doves
In publick presence; when black Belial's friend
Is Sentenc'd to an endless doleful end.
She said, and rose; then hand in hand they past
To darker Shades, no Star could shut so fast;
Their shapes flow'd into Light, seeming to be
Like what clear Nights present, the Galaxie.
I and my Friend with Joy returning, gave
The Glory, whence poor men such Visions have.

Glory to God in the Highest, on Earth Peace, good will towards men.

Hymnus Matutinus. OR, A SONG to be Sung, or Said at the first Day-break.

I.
O Living Sourse of Holy Heat!
Tho I am little, and thou great;
Tho thou between the Cherubims dost sit,
And I among Pot-sheards; yet me admit
(And to this end my Breast inspire
With a most Chast Serafick Fire)
To Sing thee with the Morning-Stars so Bright,
True God of God, Eternal Light of Light,
The Blessed Day-spring from on high,
Which to the world-brought'st a new Birth
Of Light, and Life; whil'st it did lye
In darkness, and the shades of Death.
II.
Thou, that hast healing in thy VVing,
Let thy Day-Star of Grace now bring
A Joyful Morn to my benighted mind,
And let its course a happy Progress find,
Till thy (blest Sun) more powerful Beams
Break forth in mighty Flowing Streams
Of clearest light, to make an open way
For Glories perfect (O Eternal) Day.
No VVaxings, VVanings, vary this,
Nor Clouds, or fear of Clouds draw near
To fully, or disturb its Bliss
So far above the Atmosphere.
III.
Father of Lights! then of thy Love
Send down thy Spirit, which may prove,
As Salve, to clear from Scales my Clouded Eyes,
That I may see thy Sun when he doth rise;
And all my observations take
By thy most sacred Rules, which make
The simple wise, and with unerring hand
To steer their Course to the Eternal Land
In roughest Storms, through proudest Seas,
O make this day one advance more
(Most blest Three-One) to the true ease
Of its most-to-be-wished Shore.
IV.
But Night's far spent, and day's at hand;
Am I in dark Oblivion's Land?
Shall my Soul lie worse than a stupid beast,
Not to Salute fair light from yonder East?
O mind me! how that sweet-lookt thing
Did first from thee (great Good-Word) spring:
VVhen thou the obscure Chaos did'st refine
And Beauteous form in Nature 'gan to shine.
But say ('tis done) let there be light
In my dark Soul, which still lies in
The dismal shades of Ghostly Night,
And deep in the Abyss of sin.
V.
But Night's far spent, and day's at hand,
Am I in dark Oblivion's Land?
Shall my Soul lie worse than a stupid Beast,
Not to Salute fair light from yonder East?
O! let it mind me, what did shine,
(Great God-Man) when thy Stars Divine
To humble Shepherds did glad tidings Sing
Of thy amazing Birth, Immortal King!
Glory to God in highest, peace
On Earth, to sinful man good will;
VVhich never now again can cease,
Since God to Man's United still.
VI.
But Night's far spent, and Day's at hand,
Am I in dark Oblivion's Land?
Shall my Soul lye worse than a stupid Beast,
Not to salute fair light from yonder East?
O mind me of that dawning Day,
VVhen thou thy rising did'st display
(Great God) in pow'r and splendor from the dead
(As well became) after thy setting red.
Give Life, and Light, that I may leave
My Grave of sin, as Bed, to run
In thy blest strength, which I receive
To worship thee, my Rising Sun!
VII.
But Night's far spent, and Day's at hand,
Am I in dark Oblivion's Land?
Shall my Soul lye worse than a stupid Beast,
Not to Salute fair Light from yonder East?
O let it mind me of that Light
To which (Good God!) our Noon is Night:
Blest Shechinah, where thy great Clemency
Hath carr'd in Triumph our Humanity.
Refine my Nature from dross Dregs,
That I may presently contend,
And (tho, alas, with heavy Legs)
Make, where first Fruits thou didst ascend.
VIII.
But Night's far spent, and Day's at hand,
Am I in dark Oblivion's Land?
Shall my Soul lye worse than a stupid Beast?
Not to Salute fair Light from yonder East?
O let it mind me of what light,
VVhen thou com'st Judg in Clouds most bright:
When at thy Trumpets New-Creating call,
The Dead from their Dust-beds shall start up all.
O may I live that sleep to take,
VVith which thou dost thy dear ones bless;
That when thou callest, I may wake
To see thy Face in Righteousness.
IX.
The Night's far spent, and day's at hand,
Am I in dark Oblivions Land?
Remains my body like a stupid Beast,
Not mov'd by nimble light from yonder East,
Which flows full through the Hemisphere,
And tells the busie Sun is near?
Up, up! thy foreheads sweat justly decreed,
Must now to pleasing ease and sleep succeed:
Then make thy face, God! on me shine,
That with new Sp'rits, and vig'rous Joy,
I may pursue thy Work; and mine,
(O prosper Lord) in just employ.

Hymnus Vespertinus: OR, The EVENING SONG.

THrice Blest my God and King,
The only Spring
Of every good and perfect Thing.
Thou hast preserv'd my ways,
(Accept my Praise)
This, and all other my past days.
And now the Shades come on,
O Living Sun,
Go not out of my Horizon!
Stream forth thy glorious Light,
That I by Night
May count my past days sins aright,
But how shall I recall
These Errors all,
Which under numbers will not fall!
O hide them in that night,
Which from our sight,
Did take and hide the Worlds great Light.
To thy all-piercing sight,
My darkest Night
Is clearer than to us Noon-light.
O let this thought me bring,
To keep within,
My heart and hand from secret sin.
When I my Clay undress,
Do thou me bless
From rags of all Unrighteousness.
Who knows where I may have
My Bed for Grave!
O then receive my Soul, and save.
Great VVatch, on whom no sleep
Doth ever creep:
In grateful rest (I pray) me keep
From all malignant things,
Which darkness brings,
Under the shadow of thy Wings.
Dart forth thy healthful beams,
Dispel these steams,
Which cause or cherish hurtful dreams.
Pitch round me Angels Tent;
And from thee sent,
Let them blest Visions represent.
As in thy Jacob's Night,
A Ladder bright,
Thee on the Top, my Shield and Light.
Whilst they to thee ascend,
And from thee bend,
By turns, thy Jewels to defend.
So shall I in thy arms,
Circled from harms,
Be lull'd to bliss with sweetest charms.
Whilst gently from above,
Thy favours prove
My safeguard, and my bed of love.
When I awake, move me
To sing of thee,
And meditate on thy Mercy.
And with the Mornings wings,
As Light begins,
To flye to thee great King of Kings.

TO THE Candid READER.

NOW because amongst all Moral & Chri­stian Vertues, which indeed differ only as the rude and the compleat draught, (Christianity being but sum­mum Morale, Morality refined and sublimated to an heroical and diviner pitch); humi­lity and meekness are of all other most eminently exercised by an All-Wise, Holy, Just, and good particular Providence; and by its exercitations rendred more conspicuous and resplendent; I there­fore thought it not impertinent to annex as an Ap­pendix to the foregoing debate, a Poetical Sermon on each of these most Divine and Metropolitan Graces.

Nor may the name of Sermon here applied, of­fend any with a seeming incongruity, that have but cursorily read (not to say any thing of the most harmonious Sermons of the Royal and other sweet Singers of Israel) the excellent composures of at least the ⸫ Prince, tho not the King of Latin Poets, exhibiting Instances of the like, both Nature and Title.

[Page 62]And because these Mother Vertues, Humility and Meekness, never look more like themselves, than in their genuine and most true begotten Daughters, Repentance and Obedience; particularly that which hath for her proper and immediate object humane Power; Obedience to God, never evidencing it self more, than in a reverent and facile subjection to those his most Wise and most Good Providence hath thought meet to set over us. I have therefore moreover added a Penitential Song in Four Parts; and Three Anti-Phanatical Poems; Anti-Phanati­cal I call thim, for Phanatical and disobedient to humane Powers, if deliberately inspected, will ap­pear to be in truth convertible Terms. Nor could I be disanimated from these endeavours by supposing Poetry wholly unbecoming Divinity; for the first Theology of the Heathen, (as Antiquity tells us) was sung by Linus, Orpheus, and other succeeding Poets, who in a special manner were esteemed their Priests and Prophets; but passing by these, rather cast an eye at your pleasure on the true and select Worshippers of the One only true God. Here 'tis easily observable, that in both the Jewish and Christian Churches, the most ample and cheerfullest gratulations for the manifold and innumerable Bene­fits daily poured on the whole Creation by his Eter­nal Majesty, together with the most worthy Praises of both the Essential Infinite Perfections and Ex­cellencies of the Divine Nature, and also of its communicated Vertues and Transplantations of [Page 63] Goodness to, and in all rational Beings, particularly Humane nature, were ever esteemed an essential and most peculiar part of Divine Worship; and the celebration thereof principally performed in Psalms, Hymns, and spiritual Songs.

This in brief may be a competent Apology for at least the kind of my assays, to dress Divinity in Poesie, tho not perhaps for the quality of my At­tempts, to wrap so noble and high-born a Creature in such swadling Clouts, as are the inventions and composures of an unfortunate and flagging Fancy. And yet those homely productions may serve a little to display the admirable Beauty of Providence in the most wise disposition of things, viz. one in order to the advancement and commendation of the good and Glory of another, and all to the good and Glory of man, Lord Deputy of the World; but still with most humble Subordination to the Glory and good Pleasure of the supreme Lord of Lords, who is both Alpha and Omega, the one only absolutely first Be­ginning and ultimate End of all things visible and invisible; for the Beauty of this sensible World consists chiefly in a well-proportioned variety gra­dually proceeding from lesser to greater Perfections, from gross and heavy Earth, to the thinner and more active body of Water, from water to more pellucid and spirit-like Air, from Air to Fire, the subtillest and most vigorous of the Elements; from Fire to Light, the most nimble and purest of sensible Beings. Were the World all Sun, or Stars, 'twould [Page 64] not be the Ten Thousandth part so beautious, as now a parcel thereof is, Earth, the dulness and opacity of the one (as Opposites use to do) setting forth and amplifying the beauty and splendor of the other.

And the Earth it self is never so beautiful, as when dedala Tellus, (as Lucretius speaks almost in his first strains) arrayed in her Spring Coat of divers Colours; that which is sad and grave, mighti­ly setting forth and commending her gay and flowry parts. Nor is it the least Glory of the Sun, Moon, and Stars, that one Star differs from another Star in Glory. Even so in the World of Spirits is there the like gradation in a most proportioned variety of Perfection; from the spirit of Plants, which is educed out, lives with, and dies with its subject, containing only the powers of vegetation; there is an assent to the spirit of Animals, which is likewise educed out, lives and dies with its subject; but be­sides the powers of vegetation, contains moreover the faculties of sense: From the spirit of bruit Animals there is another assent to the intelligence of man, unitable and actually united with matter, but in her self and most genuine operations imma­terial and immortal, a rational mind vertually com­prizing both the vegetive and sensitive souls: from the spirit of Man at length the ascent is to Angels, noble intelligences abstracted from all matter and material conditions; From Angels the last ascent is to the Father of Spirits, an Infinite Intelligence absolutely abstracted as to all act and possibility, not [Page 65] only from all matter and material, but from all fi­nite conditions, an eternal and immensible Sea of Perfection, of which all created Perfections are es­sentially dependent derivations, and compared with which, were they all sublimated into one quintessence, the same would be infinitely less considerable, than the minutest drop of a Bucket in competition with the whole material and visible Ocean. Amongst the Angels, as we are assured from the sacred Oracles, there is a great variety as to superiority and infe­riority of Order and Office, so by all rational inference must there be a diversity of degrees of Perfection answerable to their respective Orders and Offices: But in that part of the intellectual World, which comprehends men and humane society, he that runs may read the greatest variety both in body and mind, of natural and acquired Perfections, and as vast a difference of happiness in the action and exercise of either, as great (might I say) almost as of Faces: All which variety abundantly declares the infinite fulness and fecundity of the supreme Fountain: For every good giving, and every perfect gift, of what nature and quality soever, how mean and contracted, or how large and noble soever it be, cometh down from above from the Father of Lights, with whom is no variableness, nor shadow of turning.

And tho there are diversitits of Gifts, and di­versities of Operations, yet they all flow from one most Simple, Infinite Spirit of All-Wise Goodness; which gives and manifests in the World, the lesser [Page 66] Wits, not only for an agreeable ministration to the lower and more scanty apprehensions; but likewise as foils to set forth and commend the lustre of the more large and nobler capacities: So that (Readers of both sorts) the sum of all is this; You which are of the meaner and more contracted parts, may read these with gratitude to Heaven for providing you such suitable food: And you which are of the more large and nobler endowments, may read like­wise, and bless Heaven in a more ample manner for its amplier and more magnificent diffusions of good­ness to you, than to others; so both and all together may contemplate, admire, and adore the Infinite Wis­dom of the Divine Providence in its so excellent contrivance of the whole system of the sensible and intellectual World; to be its own most beautiful Pi­cture by a wonderful commixture of Light and Shade in and throughout all its parts; that each one should serve to the good and Glory of each other, and all together reflect the Image of the immortal Glory: Which one only Most worthy End, Heaven grant that, we may all eternally answer in our re­spective capacities. Farewell.

SERMON I.
The Subjects Kingdom,

On Matth. V.3.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.

BLEST are the minds inrich'd with poverty,
For them a Kingdom waits above the Sky.
Laid here in grace: which as a pledg begins
That Glory which compleats them after Kings.
Their infant Stature in their own Conceit,
Makes them the men in Heavens measures great:
VVhich still delights to give the humble Grace,
But thunder-strikes with frowns the Mountain Face,
Making God rising Herod's openly
Egregious proofs of brag'd Divinity;
The Voice of God, not man, they cry; for worms,
The God a prey then in a moment turns.
Colossus-like, strutting his Glorious Court,
VVhat, have not I for my most mighty Port
This Palace built? boasts Nebo ⸫ of the East,
Then turn'd from men, he pastures with the beast.
[Page 68]His Palace to a Forest, singing Boys
And Maids are turn'd to Bats and Owls hoarse noise.
So greatly swelling minds Lycanthropise
Themselves to bruits from demi-deities;
To bruits? Nay fiends, whilst full of grins and groans,
They yet aspire still to unequal Thrones.
Nor is the humble Port less fair to men,
VVhilst hate attends the haughty Diadem:
And (as Experience speaks) the man that's proud,
Goes closely curs'd of his adoring croud:
If Honour be the Honourer's esteem,
Then from dishonours who can him redeem?
Much fear'd, not lov'd; just as the Nations prize,
VVhen they adore their evil Deities:
The Rising Sun Sejanus sees on high;
But Setting, sees him in a Dungeon lye:
But now the people worshipp'd him; he falls,
And then they cry, to the Gemonian Scales;
O humble Greatness, like the Mind profound,
VVhich stoops in gentle Dews to kiss the ground!
His lucid Globes, the Shadows of his Crown,
Tho placed high, yet still are looking down:
Nor take we measures of their Excellence,
But from their kind and lowly Influence:
Such Excellence spight of themselves all must
VVith bosom-worship, honouring the dust;
VVhilst Pride big-lookt, as more than half-divine,
Is trod for dirt, when its supports decline:
For why do the infernal Lions lay
Themselves like lowly Lambs? To gain a Prey.
[Page 69]So grin with haughty Heart, yet couching Knee,
Thy painful Praise Divine Humility:
But shameful Grief! that Devils chiefly find
Apt place for this in humane shape and kind,
In humane shape and kind! How we unhinge
Our lofty Poles, caress and cant, and cringe,
To gain deluded Troops, when Policy
VVould Pride inthrone by feign'd Humility?
Yet foaming waves still toss th' ambitious mind,
VVhich lab'ring like a troubled Sea can find
No rest. Now up she mounts to Heaven above,
VVhich if she cannot bend, then Hell she'l move.
So that her inmost Chambers represent
A streight and current foul and violent;
VVhich in still Night the Bed made for repose,
VVith boisterous Perturbations overflows:
What threatning Rocks, Gulfs, Sholes, Quick-sands, beside
Ten thousand dangers chiefly wait on Pride?
Nor doth she rarely meet with VVinds and Seas,
Both opposite, which sup her up with ease
In rapid Ruins (farewel Sun and Light)
Deep Vortex equal to her humours height.
Sometimes in prosp'rous Gales her lofty eye,
The head-lands of fair-haven boasts to spy:
Then all her waves of swelling Passions rise,
And scorn the limits of the starry skies:
VVhen on a sudden, blows a cross-ful gust,
That back to sea her gallant bottom must;
[Page 70]Or hostile Rocks shall wrack her in distress,
Just on the shore of her thought happiness.
O most unsafe, when least of fears she knows!
VVhen at the best, still up and down she flows;
Her Honour under-sail lives all on breath,
And when at Anchor, but an inch from death:
VVitness great Haman's bliss in all his Pride,
That ebbs when this is at the highest Tide:
Haman the great, Haman the only man,
In honouring whom the mighty Monarch can
Delight himself: Haman the Rising Sun,
To worship whom, lo all the Persians run:
Haman the great, Haman whose eyes contemn
As worms all others, or as Pigmy men,
Compar'd with his more than Gigantick Port,
VVhen he looks from his Sinai at the Court;
Yet one poor Mordecai's (ah) stubborn knee,
The pleasures of his Glory makes to flee,
And yield to anguish their deserted seat:
Alas 'tis all too little to be great!
VVhen on the highest peak of Honour there,
How slippery is his station? with what fear?
Not all from others, who salute his rise
VVith clouds of arrows from their envious eyes:
Some still impatient of a parallel,
And all of such as haughtily excell;
But from himself, whose head sometimes unsound,
Still unsecure stands in a place profound,
Fatal, when fumes from giddy passions fly,
And urge the dangers of a dazling eye:
[Page 71]Sometimes disquiet in their proper sphere,
They to the Sun of Honour soar so near,
That these bright beams which cherish humble things,
Consume or melt their daring waxen wings:
Or tho like Comets for a while they blaze,
And terrors move in all that on them gaze;
Their own fierce motion urging to a Flame,
Whose glaring streams beget a dreadful name:
Their greatest splendor then predicts a fall;
They burn, and turn from whence they did ex­hale,
To fordid earth, and only leave behind
Such dire effects as men with curses mind.
But thou like the fair Lady of the Night,
(First of the eight blest * Sisters) art most bright,
When most at humble distance from thy Sun,
Sweet Lowliness, then thou dost nearest come:
Nor hath thy fair-skinn'd Beauty least excess,
When sable Morpheus thou dost most confess.
Let Great Ones faithless Fortune on a round,
Thou on a square sitt'st safest near the ground.
Up goes the scale with thee, fall low or high,
Tho Earth and Sea were mingled with the sky:
But what needs this? the lesser is the more
Fit to get into Heavens narrow Door;
Which will not yield to those whose heads at­tempt
With high Deserts to knock the Firmament.
The Firmament? poor Nought and Dirt! look down
And meditate the rise of thy proud Crown.
[Page 72]View gravely thy deformed feet; how shall
Thy Peacocks Crest, and brisling Plumes but fall?
For is thy soul to an eclipse so prone,
As when most full of what are not her own,
But borrowed beams of the Eternal Light?
Compar'd with whom a Summers noon is night,
And all the Morning Stars which sang and play'd
In consort, when the Worlds first stone was laid,
Therefore with Jesus, who for Scepters look,
Must stoop with Jesus, to the lowly Brook,
On whose fresh Banks the Flowers all are found,
VVherewith Celestial Princes must be Crown'd.
Most lowly Jesu, make my heart a Plot
Most humbly seated: O the happy Lot,
To be a Valley, where thy soul may feed
'Midst Lillies, which to thy warm beams succeed,
And through thy Merits may sweet Odours breathe,
And garland me with an immortal wreath!
Did Pride throw Lucifer with his bright Train,
Of morning-stars from their affected Reign,
Man out of Paradise, whilst Might in Thrones,
The lowly in the seats of lofty ones?
Behold thy Handmaid, (Lord) my naked soul,
Thy spotless Robe can cover all that's foul.
Make her fair Daughrer of thee (King most high)
By being Mother to Humility.
By this was thine (to carnal sense tho odd)
Both Royal VVife and Mother of great God,
[Page 73]Of the Blest Jesu, But what match thee can,
Whose sovereign God becam'st a Serving-man?
A Serving-man? as vile a slave did'st die,
VVhil'st Prince of Life and immortality.
VVhat nobler Pride this side the Starry Sky,
Than to Transcribe such rare Humility,
Humility outwondring Miracle?
God stoops to man; and Heaven unto Hell.
Stoop my stout heart, thou that canst all things bend:
That I with thee (great Godman) may descend:
Then from a VVorm in Dust, as Eagle may
Mount the high Countries of Eternal Day
To take Possession of that Throne, whose first
Foundations are lay'd lowly in the Dust.

SERMON II.
The Meek Mans Inheritance.

On Matth. V.5.

Blessed are the meek, for they shall Inherit the Earth.

BLEST are the meek, whose sweet Sedateness can
With Gentle Charms indear both God and Man,
Calm in those passions, whose tempestuous Breath
To the most God-like Virtues, Threatens Death;
When in great deeps their modest Sounding fail,
Their yeilding reason unto Faith strikes Sayl,
And still profoundly stoop'st to Mysteries,
When too sublime for its undaring Eyes.
Their pleasure can't but ever Couchant lye
To the good pleasure of the Deity,
Avowing, human will ought to resign
It's self and all to Soveraign will Divine.
The sacred Statute's are their Meat and Drink;
Nor will they ought Repugnant do, speak, think.
[Page 75]But their smooth passions all concenter in
That boundless point, from whence they had their Spring,
And in which they without deflecting, rest,
Esteeming all from Heaven to be best:
Worst evils best, as from a Providence
Alwise and Fathomless to Humane Sence.
O happy meekness! whom no Injuries
Can ever Flame, tho often may Surprise,
And sometimes move, much rather bent to dye,
Than once affront a Lawful Dignity.
She humbly Vows to all in higher Sphear,
And to her equals modestly draws near,
Like to the Heavenly Orbs imparts a sence
To all below of sweet kind Influence:
Obliging Friends with an Eternal Tye,
Whilst conquering kindness kills her Enemy.
Nor doth she less rejoyce to satisfie,
Than to remit an offer'd Injury.
Tender to violate the sacred Name
Of Friend with angry, tho deserved Flame.
All due Reproofs as Precious Balm she takes:
And still the like with gentle Gesture makes,
Making soft words well form'd in place and time
The Lenitive's of both, all wrath and crime.
This is (what Tongues can tell how Excellent)
The quiet Spirit's Lovely Ornament,
Whose Charming Beauties are of greater Price
Than Gold in Mens, in Heavens Holy Eyes.
Nor dares the Enemy its Magick fly,
The Devils own its true Divinity,
[Page 76]And howl its praise, assuming to perform
Their Blackest Plots the meek-mans taking form,
Whose Glory is to be sole King of Man,
Whom equalize no Earthly Monarch can;
For having all, deny him this to have,
And he's at highest but a Royal Slave.
Whilst over others on a Throne he reigns;
His Tyrant Passions hold himself in Chains;
Whereas the meek man Conquering self, defies
The worst Assaults of proudest Enemies.
Their furious Shot find him as yielding Wool,
To dead their force, that treats of Kindness full;
Can mildly boast more Captives than the Sword
In Glorious Triumphs ever could afford.
No Winds disturb his mind: but like the Air's
Superior Region, free from Stormy Cares
It truly represents that Harmony,
Which some but Dream't the Soul of man to be.
Not that his passions are expel'd as things
All over evil, Subjects still make Kings.
And grant that this the meek man should enjoy,
Is Reasons noble Empire to Destroy.
No, but his passion yeilds to Regent Will
And Will to Reason to be guided still,
Reason conducting well, which rarely fails
To go, from whence it came, with meek appeals.
Thus 'bove the Earth he sets as in a Throne,
Like Heaven firm: yet Earth is all his own.
What tho Usurping Hectors of the Age
Triumph and Lord it in his Heritage,
[Page 77]Set by th' Eternal Wisdom for a day
To Exercise the Meek-man, and Display
His God-like Virtue, which through too much ease
Might turn her Vigorous Health to a Disease
Unapt to show her self, unless some foes
With Noxious Fumes her gentle Air oppose;
Their Hearts Delights their Happiness destroy,
For having all, they nothing can enjoy:
And domineering cannot truly Live:
But restless furies daily Murders give
In jealous fears. And when by fate they must
Pass off the Stage, they go of all men curst.
All but the Meek-man, who as Lawful Heir
Possesseth all, possessing without fear
What Heaven metes, the breadth of one small Hand,
Yet Adequate to all the Promis'd Land.
The Blisful Visions of the Face Divine,
His Goshen makes all Egypt to outshine:
That tho a Shepherd, he outhappy's Kings
Under the shade of his Great Shepherds Wings.
Omnipotence it self is his Life-Guard:
And boundless goodness his compleat reward.
What if the Earth be mov'd, or Mountains were
VVith Rapid winds swept through the Thundring Air
Into the Sea, whose Floods lift to the Stars
Strive to outdo the tumults of fierce VVars
From Clashing Arms, Guns, Drums, and Trumpets loud,
And Legions circling him as with a Cloud;
Yet now, when only Storms without are seen,
He still enjoys a peaceful calm within,
[Page 78]VVith which he lies down fol'd in Heavens Arms
Both out of reach, and out of fear of harms.
The VVorld to him is all a Paradice,
And every Cottage of an Equal Price
VVith all the VVorld: where his contented mind
The truest Empire can all Kingdoms find.
Thus doth he all Inherit in a Mite:
VVhilst the Morose Invaders of his Right
But rarely boast a Portion of good things
Equal to what the Meek-man's study brings.
By Natures ways, contention being prone
To Burn at once her Neighbours House and own;
Whilst peaceful meekness by her native Charms
Her self and Fortune guards from studious harms;
Few of the base delighting to annoy
Her, whose delight is quiet to enjoy.
But let the Lawyer and the Magistrate
From dreaming Suits determine this debate,
Whether the meek are Earth's Possessors more
Than they who Fury's for their Gods Adore.
Or stay till day arrives to perfect light,
And you shall see the Meeks undoubted Right,
When only they shall actual heirs be found
Of the New Canaan, and be richly Crown'd;
No envious Rivals entering in so well,
But such, as can bring into Heaven, Hell.
Jesu, more Meek than Moses! make me mild,
To God and Man like to a weaned Child;
Contract my swelling Sails, and calm my mind,
That thou in me no haughty looks may'st find,
[Page 79]But which with meek assent may gently bend
To thy great truth's, when science they transcend.
Let VVonder then preside in Reasons seat
Most fit in things for Human reach too great:
That where is less of sight, the Head may more
Profoundy bow, and awfully Adore.
Subdue and smooth my rugged will, till thine
(Alas, tho rudely) be pourtra'd in mine:
That at thy beck her no regret may stay,
When thou command'st, demurring to obey.
But let her prize thy words more than the Gold
That ever was from wealthy Ophir sold,
Receiving all (too dear to be withstood)
Thy Royal Laws for Holy, Just, and Good.
So may my passions as a Loyal Train
Of loving Subjects constitute her Reign,
All voting it (when thou but say'st) no loss
To change a Crown for thine Enobled Cross.
Dumb let me be at thy rebukes, (no word,
But let him do his pleasure) 'tis the Lord,
Submitting Life to thee with all the rest,
Who only know'st, can'st, wilt'st effect the best.
Should'st thou thy Vice-roys and deputed Gods,
The higher powers, make my scourging Rods;
O! let me kiss them, dreading to defy
The Image of Immortal Majesty,
Both in it self, and other placed near,
As serving Angels in a higher sphear.
Whilst I accost all with obliging Grace
In both an equal, an inferior place;
[Page 80]Compose my frame for pardon to be prone,
To give to others, and to crave my own.
I in the Jewel of the Christian Crown,
Not on my wrath to leave the Sun go down,
But rather heap thick blessings which may prove
Coals on their Heads to melt them into Love.
Their thoughtful Heads, with causeless wrath who burn,
And sulph'rous Flames for Lambent Fire return;
So may I (God) enjoy the Promise Land.
That part is all, that's measured by thy hand.
Tho in the midst of Thorns should be my lot,
Thy favour makes it a most pleasant Plot,
Secure of which how should I ever cease
To rise refresh't, when I lie down in peace?

Lacrimae Penitentiales: OR, A Penitential SONG, in Four Parts, in Poe­tical Meditations on the Principal of the Pe­nitential Psalms.

ODE I. On Psalm VI.

I.
O Sea, and every Spring!
Your Floods and Rivers bring
To my Heads deep,
That I may weep
A Deluge for my Sin.
II.
My sins, whose heads above
All height (Blest Jesu) move,
[Page 82]Except the Flood
Of thy dear Blood,
And Mountains of thy Love.
III.
(Then Lord) rebuke me not,
Whilst thy fierce Wrath is hot;
But first asswage
Thine Anger's rage:
O spare! hast thou forgot.
IV.
Thou art the sick souls Friend;
Thy healthful hand, Oh! lend;
Tho my sick heart,
Be my desert,
E're life my languors end.
V.
The pow'rs of Night combin'd,
That my afflicted mind,
Whilst Bones opprest,
Obtain no rest,
No truce from Flames may find.
VI.
How long without relief,
Wilt thou leave me to grief?
O turn in Love,
And let me prove,
Thy Mercy still is chief:
VII.
My soul from Hell return;
Why should thy Fury burn,
Till cruel death,
Leaves me no breath
To praise thee in mine Urn?
VIII.
I tire each night with groans,
Which beat my breast like stones,
(Ah,) t'other day,
More hard than they;
What tongues can tell my moans?
IX.
My bed made for repose,
No sleep, no quiet knows;
[Page 84]But from mine eyes,
Such Floods arise,
That it quite overflows.
X.
Behold my hollow eyes,
How strength and beauty dies,
Betwixt the storms,
And piercing thorns
Of my souls Enemies.
XI.
Away hence, far depart,
All ye which drew my heart
With vain delights,
And pleasant baits,
To this most bitter smart
XII.
But thou (my God) rejoice,
To hear my mournful voice:
For Jesus Tears,
Receive my Pray'rs,
A Penitent's thy choice.
XIII.
Let his great Merit's Name,
O're-whelm my foes with shame,
And put to flight
Their blustring might,
Whilst I extol the same.

ODE II. On Psalm XXIII.

THrice blessed man! whose sins are wash't off in the flood
Of dearest blood,
(Most Blessed Jesu!) from thy launced side:
And all whose foul deformity,
From the strict eye
Of Purity,
Thy spotless Robe of Innocence doth hide.
Bless'd man! when the most Righteous Judg shall quit from guilt each part,
That no black guile,
Shall to defile,
Be found in Tongue or Heart.
II.
Blest man! sing still my soul; for whilst that I in pride
My wounds did hide
From thee the sole Physician of my health;
Through Racks which would no measure find,
My Spirits pin'd,
Vigour declin'd,
And old age seis'd my bones by force, not stealth.
Both day and night thy hand prest me, moisture to drought did turn:
My hopes were worn
Like stalks of Corn,
Which raging Summers burn.
III.
But when my putrid sores I nakedly addrest,
And all confest
To thy (my great Physician's) tender eye;
Thou cool'st the ardors of my Sin,
Remov'dst its sting,
And ease didst bring,
With precious balm, which strongest poisons fly:
A precious Balm ( Gilead could thine both guilt and filth remove?)
Which made my wound,
Both clean and sound,
A Balm of bleeding love.
IV.
For this the pious Troops will still frequent thy Court,
In joyful sort,
With Incense of their sacred Vows (great King),
Inflam'd with Love of Grace the Prime;
In thy due time,
From every Clime:
Nor will they doubt, secure from fear, to sing;
But tho a universal flood should swiftly on them rise,
They should find place
To praise thy Grace,
'Midst their Calamities,
V.
Thou art my only Tow'r, where I can run to fly
The Enemy,
Whose shorten'd rage thy Mercies Pow'r prolongs,
Whilst thou dost glorious Trophies raise,
Each of my days,
To thy great Praise,
And circles me with glad victorious Songs.
I hear thee, I'le dispel these mists and foggs, which make thee blind,
That day seems night,
And Darkness Light,
To thy obscured Mind.
VI.
If thou prove not like to the stupid Horse and Mule,
Whom Curbs must rule,
I'le guide thee with mine own auspicious eyes,
Which well attended shall not cease,
Thy Lights to 'crease
In ways of Peace,
Till thou attain'st Celestial Palaces;
When thou shalt see what Plagues expect con­ceal'd impieties,
What Saints shall reap,
Tho now they weep,
In hopeful Miseries.
VII.
Then lift up (O my soul) thy drooping Head and Heart,
And Joy in smart,
With all that love a pure Heart, and pure Hand;
See in your Tears your Sun most bright,
In Darkness Light,
Blest Day in Night,
From boist'rous Seas a firm Eternal Land:
Ye which have mourn'd like Doves, now in a sa­cred Quire rejoice:
Sing, 'tis our God,
That was our Rod,
With a triumphing Voice.

ODE III. On Psalm XXXVIII. A Pindarick ODE.

I.
WHat laps'd again,
(Poor Wretch) into thy former burning pain!
Alas! too daring Confidence,
Betray'd me sadly to improsp'rous negligents;
Which gave my Enemies,
Whose greedy Eyes,
Are full of sleepless Cruelties,
Both Strength and Time,
Of all the Flower and Prime,
For new Surprize.
II.
What shall I do? hast thou but one,
(For thee I must now wooe) (blest Jesu!) King
of Mercies most imperial Throne,
[Page 90]One cordial drop with which thy life-full death,
Did once revive my dying breath:
Yes, yes, they in vast multitude excel,
As Heaven doth Earth, and infinitely more;
So high, so deep, so large, so full is thy rich Mer­cies store,
All sins of sinful Earth and Hell:
Then (great All-love) whose tender Womb
Alone gives life and breath to every thing,
Before I go to my long silent home;
From thy soft breasts let one drop spring,
One drop (full Paps) to lay my parching heat,
Whose Paroxisms never were so strong, so great.
III.
My Maker, and the World's, as good as just,
O mind my Mould! I am but Dust;
Strike, lo, I meekly kiss the kind paternal Rod,
But strike not as my Lord, but God;
Not whilst thy Justice with a Flaming Sword,
Stands ready to avenge thy Royal VVord;
But with thy Mercy close at hand,
Its fury to withstand:
For how do thy most mighty keenest Arrows stick
Fast in my Breast?
And yet by thy Right Hand still deeper prest.
I feel them, tho before incomparably Sick,
VVhich venom'd by my sin with deadly smart
Pierce through the inmost fibres of my heart,
IV.
All Salutary Juice thine angry breath consume,
That only fumes
Most pestilent remain more black and foul
Than blackest smoke, more hot than fire,
In glowing compact
Iron.
Ire,
Almighty Sire!
O what a Tophet is a guilty soul!
My guilty soul, which robs her servant body of all rest;
As if each part,
VVith the most skilful torturing art,
VVere Day and Night opprest.
V.
Each Joint resolv'd with pains,
By sad, but justest Law lets, and sucks in;
(O had I forethought the sad gains),
And so doth spread abroad the deadly poison of my sin,
That I throughout infernal dolours find,
From thy displeasure and my conscious mind,
VVhich apprehends, imprisons, hales to Judg­ment, tries, attests, arraigns,
Convicts, condemns to racking pains,
And tho not kills,
Yet every hour with crouds of long-liv'd deaths it fills.
VI.
VVhat can ye more (my threatning sins)? whose mighty tow'ring waves,
Alarm Heaven, depress me to the Graves
Of a dread deep; striving to rise, despair
Still keeps me down, whose weight what Samp­son's back can bear?
Yet (darling Furies) will ye more,
To me already one great sore?
Alas! 'tis through mine own Chirurgery,
That thus in Stench I lye,
And float in mine own vile impurity:
Rash folly seeking a too hasty calm,
But slightly searcht before, unskilfully it skinn'd the wound with balm;
That now my festered sores recrude, and I
Bow'd down with languid eyes all day,
Go on my way,
And wash my steps with tears most mournfully.
VII.
How still my painful bowels burn,
VVith noisom flames of divers kinds of bruitish lust?
VVhich to drought all moisture turn,
And from my heart,
To every near and distant part,
[Page 93]Cause and communicate a raging thirst,
After these waters, whence thou (grief) hadst thy first spring,
Impoison'd with fair Paradice's sting;
Of which yet wretched man I sought
A greedy draught,
Which so diffus'd the Poison, that from Head
To Foot, a Plague is spread,
A Plague which scorns all the Cathartick Medi­cines,
Ta'en from rich Natures hand,
By Sea and Land,
And which the best of Art refines,
And only yields to what (blest Jesu! great
Jehovah!) thou gav'st in thy bloody sweat;
One drop whereof appli'd as well design'd,
Can antidote the Plagues of all mankind.
VIII.
Then (Lord!) what else remains,
But that I forthwith flee
To thee for remedy,
And shew thee (Boundless Goodness!) all my Pains,
Tho broken-hearted, in strong cries,
Which may, tho from a horrid deep, yet pierce the lofty Skies.
Let them approach thy Mercy's Throne,
Who hearest every lowly sigh, and hearty, heavy groan:
Thou know'st the whole of my desire:
Quench not, but fan with thy kind breath, the smoaking Flax's fire;
[Page 94]Break not the bruised Reed;
Nor kill (All-love) the heart that doth already bleed:
See how it pants, beats with fear,
Trembles with presaging care;
That I most like a feeble Reed appear,
To every breath, and fill with dismal tones all round the mournful Air.
IX.
Sight fails my clouded eyes which once were crown'd
With glorious Sunbeams; now a night profound
Invelops all, that I can see
Nought but my woful misery;
And how my dearest Lovers far, far, from me blushing flye.
Which in my bosom use to lye,
Blest Angels, and thou boundless Source of Love,
Most chast and undefiled Dove,
Who loath to lye
Near such a Sty,
As I, of vile Impurity!
Nor dare they join, with mine, their hands,
Whom Nature join'd to me in strictest bands:
Nay, and the venerable name
Of Friend abhors my shame;
Friends look from far,
But dare not to draw near:
They fearful are,
To greet the wounded Deer.
X.
Dark Angels, and their numerous Race,
The wicked World, triumph in my disgrace;
My Soul's proud Foes with Glory lift their Horns,
And add to misery their scorns,
Which gore my wounded breast like Thorns:
Nor want they Stratagems to strive,
That I my grief might never more survive,
At least survive true Penitent:
So is their Malice bent:
For thus they me caress; Come live a while,
And turn those panick looks into a smile;
Turn Tears to Wine, thy watered Couch to Beds
Of sweetest Odours; come, let's crown our heads
With Rosie Chaplets, that it may be known
To others and our selves, we're still our own:
VVhat means this flegmatick, dull Penitence?
Need'st thou, more than thy fellows, a pretence?
VVhat pleasure after grim Death's day?
VVhilst blood rounds briskly in our veins,
Let's use our time, and slight no cheering means,
Each Moment we decay,
VVith our last breath all fleets away;
And nought we have shall stay.
XI.
But I refrain'd my tongue in silent grief,
Altho my breast did swell, as all together dumb and deaf;
For of Thee (Thrice best, greatest Parent!) I
Hope all defence against their monstrous Blas­phemy;
VVhose Oily Tongues are sharper than their Swords,
And Poison lurks within their Candid words:
Hear me with most benign ears,
And rescue me from all my fears;
Sustain me (Heaven!) with an Almighty hand,
That I upright may walk and stand;
For when (alas!) I step aside,
Or in most slippery ways but slide,
'Tis joyful Triumph to their envious Pride:
As men infected with the Plague desire,
And joy to spread the flames of the pestiferous Fire.
XII.
Thy Acts, whate're they be,
Are all alike most highly Holy, Just, and good:
Lo, I'm content to bear, Great Clemency!
VVhat's by thee fit understood,
Tho Sacrifice of Blood,
And fix my eye
On the true cause of misery.
[Page 97]Yes (Judg most equal of th' Eternal Throne),
The Spring of my sick Heart is all my own.
My sins, my sins, exact, of right,
A plague that's infinite:
These I own, and have in sight;
These more numerous than the Sand;
Those above the Mountains stand;
Those above the Stars ascend;
Those to Hells deep Center bend:
But as thy mighty Son hath here gi'n all
Dark Pow'rs a Second Fall;
So there he's gone Triumphant King,
To lead us on, and to secure us in,
By blest Portcullises made of Immortal Diamond,
Whose brightness can benight the Sun:
Lift all quite up to let us, us men in,
In our first Fruits, our universal conquering King,
Whilst glorious Hierarchy's found all Contents,
To compose Quires on Heaven's Battlements;
The most victorious Godman to commend
Alternately with those, that him did in ascent at­tend;
Ascent to the Eternal Capitol,
Where all his faithful Soldiers shall
In Triumph follow—
XIII.
Then whilst ( dear Sire!) thy Love in angers reign,
Let thy strong hand fast Chain
[Page 98]The cruel Mercies of both Earth and Hell;
For why should they excel,
Excel in Malice, yet in mighty numbers 'crease,
That Sport and Triumph in a forlorn Peace;
That laugh when Heaven frowns,
And feast like Vultures on my Wounds;
That repay good with ill, grin at a Penitent,
And with his Tears would have his Blood, be­cause he doth present
Them all a hated, humble President;
But leave not God, then who there will come near?
Be thou my Guard, no Enemy I'le fear;
Remove sins Opace Globe hence speedily,
Which interposeth 'twixt my Sun and me;
That my poor Moon-like Soul, barr'd from his sight,
May see and feel again his wonted beams,
And shine with free Reflection of lent-light;
Whilst thou ( blest Life!) dost flow in liberal Streams.

ODE IV. On Psalm LI.

O Life and Light of all that live!
Which facile Ears and Eyes dost give
To penitential sighs and tears,
Receive my humble fervent Pray'rs,
Whose tender Mercies Croud exceeds
All numbers, blot out my misdeeds;
Which howsoever num'rous prove,
Yet cannot parallel thy love:
Perfect ( great Power!) what tears begin,
And wash me throughly from my sin;
Those sins which in my misery,
Too justly claim supremacy:
Wash in the streams that strong Rock gave,
Which Mercy in the Deserts clave,
Dry Deserts which no water have:
Wash o're and o're, that I may be
A living Temple, 'gain for thee:
For (Lord!) in most prostrate address,
I my most crimson Crimes confess:
[Page 100]Nor doth their Image day or night,
One Moment dye out of my sight;
Only to thy All-seeing Eye,
Their hideous Form did naked lye;
Who only dost my secrets see,
The only Judg to punish me;
That 'twere most just to purge the same
With thy fierce Fury's hottest Flame;
Whilst thou dost clearly vindicate
Thy sacred Sentence from debate,
And baffle their proud Blasphemy,
Who dare Arraign thy Equity,
Triumphing in a perdite sense,
Of no o're-ruling Providence;
Or charge All-love with cruelty;
O purge and heal my Malady;
For I (alas) diseased thing,
Deriv'd from a contagious Spring,
Black Spots to my first light did bring!
And e're I into light was sent,
From the dark Womb, the rudiment
The fertile seeds of Vice did take,
Into my liquid Natures make;
But thou Great Faith! whose changeless might,
Cannot 'mids storms but stand upright,
Art simple Truth, whom never guile,
No not in shadow could defile:
This doth thy sacred Love so prize,
That tho with vicious Fumes made blind,
Thou hast inlighten'd my dark eyes,
VVith beams of Glorious Promises,
[Page 101]That I through hidden VVisdom find,
Tho all the pow'rs of Night combin'd
Me to seduce, to thee a way
Blest Father of Eternal Day!
Purge therefore my foul Leprosie,
Thy loathing, and my misery,
VVith Hyssop in the sacred Flood
Of thine own Son's dear VVater-Blood;
VVhose side a willing Sluce did prove,
To let out that Red-Sea of Love,
That I, I washt with it might be,
VVhiter than Snow's Virginity;
O could I hear thy peaceful voice!
My bones which have been broken long,
How would they in a dance rejoice,
As if by fracture made more strong!
O make my mourning soul rejoice,
To hear (good God!) that pleasant voice!
I'le not survey with rigorous eyes,
Thy numerous Impurities:
But rather will thy sins remove,
And drown them in my Sea of Love:
Great Parent of the World! by whom,
All sprang from nothing's teeming VVomb,
Speak into me a heart that's sound,
VVhere no defiling loves are found:
And in that heart renew a mind,
From earthly faeculence refin'd;
VVhere thine own Image true and bright,
Thy Royal Presence may delight,
To feast all Day, to lodg all Night;
[Page 102]Here let Celestial Flames still burn,
That hence thy Spirit ne're may turn
To leave me 'gain as liveless Urn:
For what wish I? the healthful Grace,
And solid Joy of thy blest Face;
And that restor'd, I may abide;
Let thy free Spirit ever guide,
VVith Kingly Conduct to suppress
All rebel motions of the flesh,
Then shall I preach the Glories of thy name,
And crowds of Converts shall adore the same;
Reduc'd by my example to obey
Thy sacred Laws from error's crooked way;
God of my Life! deliver from the Cries
Of loud-tongue blood, whose voice surmounts the Skies,
Our guilty Land; so shall be all day long,
Great! Good! and Just! the burden of our Song:
Rouse up my living Lire, my breast inspire,
With vigorous sparks of pure Seraphick Fire:
That Heart and Tongue enlarg'd, their strains may raise
To sing (Great Harmony!) thy noble Praise:
Mercy and Judgment sing, how they in thee,
By discord Notes, most lovingly agree:
Thou art not pleas'd with Thousands of Young Rams,
Nor with the Hollicosts of fat of Lambs,
Or fairest Bulls prepar'd with holy Flames;
The VVorld is thine; but lo a Heart contrite,
A Spirit broken with sins heavy weight,
Abhorring Fraud, is thy blest Heart's delight,
[Page 103]Lo such I offer, such to thee I lift,
My God accept and crown thine own free gift:
O may men see, so long as Night knows Moon,
And whilst the Sun makes Morning and the Noon,
Thy Face serene to guild fair Sion's Hill,
Thy Holy Church with Heavenly Splendor fill:
Behold the Rents, view well her batter'd VValls,
Mark how (alas!) she shakes, she totters, falls;
Cement her breaches with a lasting Peace;
And let her held-proof bulwarks still increase,
That hostile Nations may her Progress more
Admire, than at her back-ward course before:
Then shall the Righteous (great Sionian King!)
VVith free-will Joy their live Oblations bring
Of hallow'd Bodies, with pure Souls, to grace,
Like fruitful Palms, thine Owner's dwelling-place.
Then shall thy Votaries come from all parts,
With whole Burnt Offerings of inflamed hearts,
With zealous love, which breathe up to the Skies,
Thick Clouds of Pray'rs a grateful Sacrifice,
With thy sweet Incense ( Jesu!) well perfum'd,
And lofty Praises, tho but lowly tun'd:
Then shall they still on thy blest Altar's, place
Thy Royal Son, the Brightness of thy Face:
VVhere all our Delila's in bonds succeed,
And Victims to his Love, our hatred breed:
And this shall more thy pleasure, more thy love,
Than all the pomp of Heccatombs can move.

THE Comfortable MOURNER: A SERMON

On Matth. V.4.

Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.

BLEST, blest are they, who for their follies mourn,
Their Sorrow shall to greatest Triumph turn
Ashes to Beauty, sad Sackcloth to white,
Out-boasting all the Glories of the Light:
VVant of such Grief speaks a Lethargick State;
O deadly Symptom of a Reprobate!
Whilst active Grief is Comforts Excellence:
The brisk acuteness of the vital sense:
Quick feeling 'tis which, where it doth most thrive,
Proclaims the Soul most vig'rously alive:
Mourn, then rejoice in it, your healthful wound,
When searcht with wine, shall smoothest oyl make sound;
[Page 105]That precious Oyl which speaks to every part,
With Balmy Lips its great Composers Art;
Able to turn afflicted Joseph's cold
Hard Shackles of Iron into Chains of Gold:
And lend his Tears more Vertue to refine
His Mirth, than all th' ungrateful Butler's wine.
The Dove-like Comforter wlll pardon sing,
More pleasant than the chantings of the Spring,
Into your peaceful, tho once thundered Ears:
Good Cheer these Eyes shall see, the fertile tears,
Make this your Bakah Pleasures to afford,
Like Paradice, the Garden of the Lord;
When Harvest shouts, shall drown all noise of toil,
In cultivating your well-watered soil:
And you go up fair Sion's Hill, which leaves,
All Pools behind, with loads of wealthy sheaves.
Then 'gins great Jubile, whose welcom ease,
Gains from past pains an Emphasis of praise:
For think, to whom sweet rest so grateful can
Appear, as to the weary labouring man:
What Tears remain, shall be as Orient Gems,
To beautifie your sacred Diadems;
And memory of grief not to alloy,
But sublimate the spirits of your Joy:
Thus blackish Moles prove Beauty-Spots to grace,
Not to deform true Vertues God-like Face:
But (ah!) true Vertue (Lord!) is far from me;
I know, but serve not thy blest Deity:
[Page 106]What shall I do? I want due strength, not will,
Do thou ( Great Might!) my bruitish Passions kill.
My sins grow daily stronger, and are more
Than all the Sands, by Seas washt on the Shore.
Fain would I mourn, Blest Wisdom! teach me how,
But not how much, for I can ne'r enow:
First give me pious tears, then ( Living Vine!)
Turn, turn, those tears into Immortal Wine:
Which nobled with thy Blood ( All-Righteousness!)
Who trod'st alone the overflowing Press;
May glad, not only my poor heart, but all
The mighty States of Heavens great White-hall:
The blest Three One will take what sweet content,
When they behold their mourning Penitent;
My Great Creator, welcome new-made Son;
My Dear Redeemer, what my Blood hath done;
My Holy Comforter, let me embrace
My Precious Convert, and augment his Grace,
Refreshing him with shades of Dovy wings:
And then each Pole with Peals of Anthems rings,
From good-will'd Angels who much more re­joice,
For one that mourns, than Ninety nine so choice,
As not to know they need a mournful voice.
O Joyful Grief! O mourning Festival,
Preparing Virgins for the Bridegrooms call;
Come panting hearts, come to consummate bliss,
I'le you caress with an Eternal Kiss:
Put off your sable Weeds, on Robes all white,
Becoming best the Lambs blest Nuptial Light:
[Page 107]Whose Beauty you shall find much, much more bright,
When you compare it with your former Night:
A Night whose shades deceasing soon as born,
Give place to Joys most perfect Mid-day Morn:
Fresh still as Infancy, as Manhood Strong,
New as each Instant, yet as Ever, long.

THE Epiologue or Corollary from all the Premises, in opposition to the principal Tenent of the Gar­den; that is, of Epicurus and his Fol­lowers, who Phylosophized anciently in a Garden; viz. Their Opinion of no over­ruling Providence, as being utterly de­structive of the Happiness, and highly derogatory to the Majesty of a God to stoop to, and interfere with the care of any sub-Celestial, and especially Terre­strial Affairs; Which Doctrine their Philosophical Poet sings in these Verses,

Omnis enim per se divum natura necesse'st,
Immortali aevo summa cum pace fruatur,
Semota ab nostris rebus, sejunctaque longe;
Nam privata dolore omni, privata periclis,
Ipsa suis pollens opibus, nihil indiga nostri,
Nec bene per meritus capitur, nec tangitur ira.

Lucret. lib. 1.

[Page 109]Which the Oxford Swan hath thus excellently taught English.

For whatsoe're's divine, must live in Peace,
In undisturb'd and everlasting ease;
Not care for us, from fears and dangers free,
Sufficient to its own felicity;
Nought here below, nought in our power it needs,
Ne're smiles at good, nor frowns at wicked deeds.
Mr. Creech in his Elevation of Lucretius.
THen sing live Lute, that whatsoe're's divine
Is not as fanci'd by the Garden * Swine;
Men who to Fortunes chances all ascribe,
And think, the world no Masters hand doth guide,
But Nature rolls the rounds of Day and ‖ Year:
And so they touch all Altars without fear:
What's God, of all below must careless be *,
Not Saints from Friends, not Fogs from Incense
Diseern not praising from blaspheming tongue;
Ne're shine on right, nor storm at impious wrongs.
As if it were abasing to a God †,
To cast one glance on a terrene abode:
[Page 110]As if (good God!) Supreme felicity,
Did wholly in a lazy posture lye: *
And to thy bliss it needs disturbance brings,
To intermeddle with the care of things,
Chiefly of that which from mean Seed begins.
O bruits! that shape a God out of the vain
Ideas of their own distempered brain,
And suited to their vicious natures strain:
Shall we supiness, and an idle state,
Make Gods chief bliss, which good men scorn and hate;
Esteeming it the Glory of great Kings,
VVith guardiant eyes to shield the shrubs of things?
Gods Bliss, to whose unlimitable quick eye,
All things are present, and all naked lye;
So that without discourse, which labour brings,
He comprehends the perfect rule of things.
Gods bliss, the beck of whose Almighty Hand,
VVhole Natures force, nay, Nothing can't with­stand,
But into Something springs at his command.
To whom to make more Worlds is easier found,
Than to take up an Acorn from the Ground,
To all the Garden Swine —
Since then the 'ternal Pow'r can live in Peace,
Yet foster all, and rule with perfect ease,
Nor in the least his Grandeur thus displease:
VVhy murmur ye, that ye his Goodness find:
To you more than you to your own selves kind?
[Page 111]Ungrateful Swine! Go herd your selves and run
With one fowl Mouth to grunt against the Sun,
For humbling his high Heav'nly self so low,
As with warm Beams to make your Pastures flow.
And talk no more, that Heaven nothing needs,
To banish quite from Earth Religious deeds.
As if a Peasant should not Homage pay
Of Grateful Honours to his Prince; and say,
I humbly thank my Gracious Lord the King,
From whom to me such Bounties daily Spring;
Because the mighty Monarch needs no Clown,
To grace with thanks the Jewels of his Crown.
True, the Almighty Kings Imperial Bliss
Plac'd in his Self's high Contemplation is
The Mirror and great Architype of all
That solid reason Great and Good can call:
That not all Hymns from Men and Angels sent,
His Native Bliss and Glory can Augment,
As much as one poor spark bound upwards may
Augment the Brightness of an August day.
Why then should this most blisful One Create
* The World, and still with care ore rule its State?
Ask why * the Sun doth flow in ampler Streams
Than Moon or Stars, why with more generous Beams?
Why do the Heavens so Bless the Womb of Earth
With Vital Heat and Seed for Fruitful Birth?
[Page 112]Why from the Brooks such puny purlings come,
Whilst Nile with Thundring Floods sets from his home,
And Yearly hugs blest Egypt's wealthy Land,
With the orewhelming bounty of his Hand?
Why doth the Sea with restless kindness too,
To all th' unnumbred Springs supplies renew,
Whilst narrow Cisterns just begin to flow,
And straight they fail, dry up and empty grow?
Why are some Lands of such an hide-bound soil,
And so ungrateful to the Tillers toil,
When Rich returns from better natur'd ground
To fill his Mouth, and Deck his Head, are found,
And Plains with freewill Fruits and Flowers Crown'd?
Why doth most Beauty most compliant prove
With the sweet motions of all noble Love,
And why such Clemency, such goodness find
We from the Valiant and Heroick mind?
For still the largest Soul is the most kind.
'Tis, 'tis, because things of themselves are free
According to their nat'ral Goods degree.
So greatest Goods love most self to diffuse:
Therefore did God whole Nature's frame produce.
Therefore from one Point willing lines are found
To spring and pass all numbers and all bound:
Of which no cause can well-purg'd ears approve
But one, Self, and all moving Sea of Love.
And thou (my Soul) know'st he who knows no ends
Of Days, of Bliss, of Glory, condescends
[Page 113]Meek, Lowly vales to visit with kind Eyes,
Their Springs of Penitential Waters rise.
Not thinking therefore that this Ocean looks,
Or needs assistance from such puny Brooks,
Yet every Hour and Moment of each day,
Send grateful Rivers to the boundless Sea,
Not as Earth's Fountains to recruit, but show
That thou to it thy self and all dost owe.

AN ADDRESS TO A LOYAL PENCIL; BEING A gentle Satyr against the Arch Fanaticism of our days, and the Substance of some Antifanatical Poems Publickly Communicated in Manuscript, when the Lopping or Excluding Faction was in its Meridian and highest Impudence; the con­traction of which into this one, tho Composed be­fore the Birth of the last most Holy Rebellion, may yet be less Impertinent than wish'd to our present Circumstances, if we consider the possibili­ty of a remaining root of bitterness, and the secret throws of Santa Pretenza, for her after-burden.

Beware of false Prophets which come to you in Sheeps-Cloathing, but inwardly they are Ra­vening Wolves; ye shall know them by their Fruits,

Matth. 7.15.
Pictoribus atque Poetis.
Quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa Potestas
Seimus, & hanc veniam petimus (que) damus (que) vicissem.
To Painters and to Poets still hath been
An equal power of daring any thing
We know of old, and humbly crave such leave,
And such to all, with all our Heart we give.
Horat. de Art. Poet.

ADDRESS TO A PAINTER.

DEAR Painter Draw a Sepulcher within,
Full fraught with dead mens Bones, a [...] some thing,
As Putrid stuff can make, without more white,
(If possible) than Virgins Snow or Light;
Or what's the same, draw Fiends as lately made
The only Saints, in Holy Masquerade.
No wonder Sir, these should themselves so fly
To Refuge in a Contrariety:
For from the first, the Dev'l us'd this deceit,
And dearly lov'd to play the Counterfeit,
Shame and his Policy inforcing to't
To hide what might, all but his Cloven Foot;
For such is his Deformed Excellence,
'Twould scare both Scot-and-Lot-men out of sence,
Should he appear upon Election
In his own shape to move Affection.
No, no, he knows his Picture would not take,
But only for the Golden Frame's sweet sake.
[Page 116] Zelub left out, he doubts not to do well,
Looking as if his Name was only Bell.
Pray Draw him therefore with a curious Hand,
And let his Worship like an Image stand
Inricht all over with the Temple's spoils,
Which no presumptious spot or wrinkle foils.
Make his grim Blackmores Face and Hands, most bright
With glorious gilt of fresh Angelick light,
In all so feigning forms of Sanctity,
As if new-sent from the Empir'al Sky.
In these he may succesfully trepan,
At least the honest-hearted Christian,
VVho oft mistakes a Jezebel for Saint;
Adores, for Native Beauty, sordid Paint.
By her starch'd looks, and Oyly Tongue, which talks
Nought but the Holy Land, bewitcht he walks,
Admiring her, till by Syrenean Charms,
He's Conjur'd in the Circle of her Arms;
Here Hug'd, he lives in Blindness till he Dies
(Poor wretch) the Worst of all Captivities.
Then (prethee Pencil) be most Exquisite,
To draw this Dev'l, when Factious, bolt-upright;
Let him not in the least peep out his Nose
Of Door, but in Religious Sundays Cloaths,
Grave, Black, on Maiden VVhite, to keep fast in
His supple wits, which are prone forth to spring
VVhen great pains taking, opes the little Doors
Through fervency, which nat'ral men call Pores.
[Page 117]Add hallowed Frontlets of the largest size;
A Cloak more than the half Phylacteries,
His Chariot must be Flaming Zeal, whereon
With Jehu's Tongue he acts a Phaeton.
Saints all like Angels for his numerous Train,
And Kings made wicked, to make good his Reign;
Kings with their fetter'd Nobles on each side,
To Grace his Chariot with triumphant pride.
Paint Lively on his Lips the sacred word,
And in his Hand a double-edged Sword,
Motto'd (for and against) to separate,
'Twixt Godlike Caesars Person and his State,
To fight the Lairds own Battels, Mauger Laws,
The Lairds own Battels in the Devils Cause!
O Prince of sins! what Heaven mod defies,
Dares that of Heaven borrow a disguise?
Rebellion which with Witchcrafts cursed Hands
Profanes and violates all Holy Bands;
By Covenant with Hell and the Black Prince,
Quite to Renounce Heavens highest Excellence,
VVhilest (horrid thing!) it spitefully agrees
To scorn on Earth his sacred Deputies;
And that in all the likeness may hold good,
The Solemn Covenant is sign'd with Blood,
Their own malignant Blood, which Rebels must
Give to appease th' Infernal Dragons thirst.
Not only theirs, but Blood of Innocents,
And from Bazillick Veins; astonishments
Confound me here, and horror sense prevents!
[Page 118]But draw an Altar, under which still cry,
Thick Purple Bands of Martyr'd Loyalty;
Incircling round a bleeding Royal Love,
Like a meek Lamb, crown'd with a gall-less Dove.
How long (just Pow'rs) shall our dear Blood be found,
Yet unappeas'd to die the Brittish ground?
And yet near by, paint Adders, which appear
Stopping 'gainst charms their unrelenting ear.
And Chairman Pilat, with washt hands, lift eyes,
Still mingling Blood with holy Sacrifice,
The Blood of the most holy Votaries.
Nor doth vain humour bring unto my mind
Strange forms, unheard-of shapes to make or find;
For never yet did Rebel-Devil ride,
But with both men and arms all sanctifi'd.
Consult a while your reverend Monuments,
And draw what their sage Story represents,
That this besotted Age may see it's old,
To hilt seditious Swords with Temple-Gold.
Give one for all, proud Korahs company;
In formal ranks, and let their Banners fly,
Inscrib'd, The Lords own People, all Holy
Assertors of a Holy Liberty.
Lift up their Snow-white hands towards the Skies,
VVhilest poys'ned Arrows pelt their Dignities.
VVhat's Moses or Saint Aaron, that they thus
(Are they more holy?) Lord it over us?
Then whil'st with mouths full of a godly word,
They hand the Censor, squinting on the Sword,
[Page 119]Let them approach the Altar, whence alone
They hope to Scale successfully the Throne;
Princes of Priests! Oh Holy Violence,
Not in a Mystick, but a lit'ral Sence,
At once to take, (what dares it not perform?)
The Earths & Heavens Kingdoms both by storm.
But Paint (canst thou) true fire, or what's the same,
Give Painted Fire a quick Vivacious Flame,
To which their Sacrilegious Zealots all,
(Strange Fire!) (strange Sacrifice!) Just Victims fall,
Now for Jacks Parentage. Paint him begot
On discontent, kind Cats most happy lot;
On discontent, by some Male Incubus;
Paint Faction, Midwife; Paint Sedition, Nurse;
Paint black Rebellion, bringing him at last
To proper Man, bad weed! that grows so fast
Up to an Elder, soon as come to light,
A Mushroom Off-spring of but to'ther night.
Paint him close joyn'd to any sect or thing,
To make Extinct the hated Name of King.
What if their Eyes to adverse points are bent?
Their Tails, like Sampsons Foxes, may consent
To carry Hells Fire-Brands of Zeal, to Burn
The Lords and his Anointed's sacred Corn.
Paint all his Associations near to be;
The League of France in Holy Amity,
Both meeting kind to Rob the Diadem,
VVith cursed Hands, of its most Orient Gem,
Supremacy o're sacred men and things,
The right of Jewish and all Christian Kings.
[Page 120]But shew the Thieves all up in arms to be,
Where this their stoln Treasure plac'd should be;
Jack big with pride, (alas inraged Fool!)
Commanding Thrones to his Repenting-stool,
And the Impereal Robe by Holy Trump,
To kiss the Hem of his Synodick Jump.
Show how derived Gods he Violates,
And with Brute Thunder Excommunicates;
Thunder, which in another he defies,
And as the Triform Cerb'rus howls decries;
Yet Heavens Viceroys presumes he to displace,
Piping all Kingdom to be found in Grace;
And lest no sequel from such premises
Let them be Saints, he'l make them Tyranize.
Paint now our bands assunder, and give thence
All Law to Eagle-sighted Impudence,
Which must outstare the Sun, amaz'd to Eye
Religion-Murd'ring Divinity,
That peaceful Gospel which came from the Stars;
Proclaiming nought but dire Intestine Wars.
Loud Mouth'd Bo'nerges, belching Flames like Guns,
And Thundering Pulpits, like to Major Drums.
Conducting silly Souls with Dev'lish Spells,
From Purgatories feign'd to Real Hells.
Bound with cross Chains of Contradicting Oaths,
Which Turks and Pagans never could Impose.
Paint now Egyptian Taxers, which may rate,
Poll Decimate, Plunder and Sequestrate,
Selling Lives, Liberties all to support
Hells high Tribunal, Heaven [...] Judging Court.
[Page 121]But lest that Mealmouth Jack complains that here
He hath no part, pray draw a Butcher fair,
Binding a Lamb, the Meekest of the Flock,
Then Boy dispatch him first, thus ti'd to Block;
And Pencil, this depending strife decide,
Which of the two may best be justifi'd.
Then shew how this (what heart could other think)
This Vip'rous Brood expires with curse and stink;
Whilst Vengeance halls its Arch-conductors all
To the due Glories of their Godly call.
Yet by, so draw the Stars, that all appear
In form to hasten a Plantonick Year.
Mens Heads Vertigo'd with male Influence,
Distracting so their very common Sence,
That they all over Act in publick view
The frantick Scenes of Forty one and two.
Shew how the Martyr'd Rumpers now awake,
And in the Senate their old Stations take,
With Reverend shades ascending from black Dis,
Into our Saints (blest Metempsycoses),
To Club for one * Smectimnean Monster more,
And make again Geneva's Bull to Roar,
That only could out-bellow Greeks Stantore.
Shew how old Pan the Mobile Inspires
Both with his Pipe and with his wandring Fires,
Which look like Fiends to Malanchollick sights,
Tho nought in truth, but Jack with Lanthorn-Light.
[Page 122]Rais'd by and to Distempered fancies pains,
Out of the heated Bogs of Factious Brains,
As poyson full as the Plot-Masters Reins.
Let Black-Mouth'd Calumny with filthy steams,
Now strive again to dark the Suns bright beams,
Which being stout, thousand to one at last,
But some howe're unjust, may yet stick fast.
Here let bold Clippers of the Crown, and there
The parers of the Royal Robe appear,
Such as for Cowardize, Damn'd Davids Breast,
When with Regret for Sauls cropt Garment prest
And would both Saul and David to Divest
Divest their Kings, till them should nakedness,
The peoples Creatures, (tho their Gods) confess.
All this can't do, pray change the Pencil, and
Call Aiding Genij to your Royal Hand.
Call him that drew the Vine so cur'ously,
That Birds with eager Wings towards it fly,
And set upon plump lively clusters, loath
To own the Cheat, tho they go blushing off.
Call him that drew the shade so Dextrously,
That as a Curtain men would put it by,
That of the Vine they might have fuller sight,
One Sense befool'd, the other Reasons light.
Call Angelo, and all for Paint Renown'd
In and about the fam'd Italian Ground.
Then draw a Saint for Glorious Zeal more gay
Than ever was Saint Barnaba's bright day.
* Santa Pretenza is her Name, a Saint Holy Pretence.
That of all others Merits most of Paint.
[Page 123]Her habit must be all of Heavenly Loom;
A Present from some Sister-Angel come,
But chiefly let her upper Robe white be,
As if di'd newly in the Gallaxie;
That it be long enough (pray) have great care,
That there below no Cloven Foot appear.
Her Face, Neck, Hands and Breasts, and all to sight
That comes, must be wash'd with Fresh Virgin Light,
Such as that Noon, which by th'Almighty Word,
Nothing did in the worlds day-break afford;
For here no Mot no Spot may Criticks spie,
Nor shade, except Religious Gravity.
VVhen e're her Saintship daigns to take process
To solemn Acts of full-blown holiness,
Her let Nymph Eccho follow, and the rest,
VVith which Narcissus in the VVoods was blest.
Paint more than * Atrops knife in her right hand,
VVhilest in the Left a Sage black Box must stand
VVith Knife, she as a new fourth Destiny,
Rescinds the Acts of the old Sacred three,
Cuts off those Lines which Heav'ns high Council makes
To mete and fix the Bounds of Regal states,
Dread thing! dares oft break Heavens Eternal Line,
To make way for her own, as more Divine!
But this can't do, firm Thread which Heaven hath spun,
And only hath end, whence it first begun,
[Page 124]Nor needs Religion fair Pretenza skill;
For prop obedience to the Heavenly will,
Is pure and only true Religion still.
They Gods dread Self Exclude in very deed,
That Vote not his Vicegerents to succeed.
As liquid Floods in one continued stream,
VVhere they in fee hold the bright Diadem,
In see of the blest Deity alone,
And scorn Election to Eclipse the Throne;
To make good therefore true successions Line,
And shew how Pretenza next with Hands Divine
Presents (O rarely skill'd in all state-locks)
A Reverend black thing like Pandora's Box,
Looking as if she knew no mighty odds,
But that her self was gifted by the gods,
As well as she when sent to mens abodes.
First let her the Prometheans tempt with it,
Boasting it brings an Heir of Royal Wit,
As well as of a Royal true Descent,
Gods chief Delight, Isra'ls chief Ornament.
But let these weigh the Present's Excellence
In Golden Scales of Godlike Providence.
So scorn her offer as a damn'd pretence,
The boasted Eagle scorn, whose spurious Eye
Dares not behold the Suns bright Majesty.
But rather would the joy of all Eyes fly.
Then let the Saint with all her care and art,
Make Present to the Epimethean part.
VVho more consulting change, than solid peace;
Muchless Religions then their prides increase;
[Page 125]Accept and open this Mysterious Box,
Out flies a swarm of worse than Plague or Pox;
A swarm of Hell-bred mischiefs rushes out,
And buzzing flyes three brainsick Realms about.
Paint lively this, shew how the people run,
As if all with Tarantula's were stung.
Some their mad selves dance almost out of breath;
And some more eager Dance themselves to death.
Their Masters Musick still more poyson brings
Than cure, till they crack their Inchanting strings▪
This some beholding with consid'ring Eyes,
Leave off their Dancing, to be timely wise;
Wise when they see the Rev'rend Box so ope,
That there remains in, not so much as hope;
Less than in Pandors taking Air 'tis Dead.
Else on the Eagles hanging pinions fled.
Paint Saint now like Medea, muttering Charms,
Or Chafing like an Amazon in Arms;
The great Penthisile, when mad with Grief,
She foam'd amidst thick Troops for Troys Relief.
For nothing 'gainst succession can succeed,
No, neither Knife nor Box will do the deed.
Therefore in place of these, flung off with Curse,
Paint (what may both supply) a Blunderbus
Inscrib'd, Since I supernal Gods can't bend,
I'le roar to make th' Infernal Gods ascend.
But whilst the Saint a Lyoness in Heart,
Yet gently acts the lowly Lambs meek part,
And Couching waits the dismal day, to tear
Three mighty Kingdoms in a Royal Pair.
[Page 126](O sacred Pair) in whom did mighti'st love
Most mystick powers and pow'rful myst'ries prove,
* Shew fire from Heaven, a fire whose wondrous light
Brings both Saint & her pious frauds to sight;
Display how at this Fires Puissant heat,
(Bad friend to paint) the Saint dessolves in sweat;
How her fine Cloaths drop off, hands melt, and face,
And leave a Naked Devil in their place.
For Pencil now, and Colours, send to Hell,
Else canst thou never draw this Fury well;
Describe her squallid hairs thick trac'd with knots
In which grim Serpents hatch and hiss out Plots.
Some on her blistred shoulders dangling down,
Some brisling up, and cluster'd to a Crown;
Still threatning Heaven with endeavour'd Wars,
Heaven, whence she dropt amongst the rebel stars▪
From both her Eyes let flaming Rivers flow,
Such as Ʋesavius and fierce Aetna know.
Out of her Mouth black smoak must never rest,
To speak a Phlegathon within her breast,
Nor let her meager Cheeks desist to tell,
That Envy is her most Compendious Hell.
Throughout her Negro frame, let Pictrine Brass,
With Cuts of various shapes, her honour grace▪
Old Brittains gallantry, as sage Bards sang,
E're French Diseases, with French Modes began.
Here let fierce Harpies, rav'nous Ʋulturs there,
The num'rous race of Tiphons blood appear.
Here Minotaurs, there Centaurs 'bove the rest,
A Monster of six Heads upon one Breast.
Circled with all the Monsters Libia finds,
Sprung from Conjunction of far distant kinds.
[Page 127]Then let a Viper have next signal part,
A Viper preying on its Parents Heart.
But by a Pigmi Proteus taught too well,
Who Faces Heaven, whilst he looks to Hell.
Thy Mystick Signet of this mighty thing,
A Crafty Monster call'd a Sphinx must bring.
Posie (unridled!) I am Dead.—
To make good this at length in streams most foul,
Let slimy Tap piss out his Plotful Soul.
Himself first seeing Heaven, Anatomise
* His Pandemonian Heart to all mens Eyes;
Stay here no more, but give at last this Fiend
A Cloven Foot (inscrib'd) Divide and Reign,
And shew how she in pleasure doth prevail,
Scourging her self with her own Snaky Tayl.
But (Painter) next a mighty Troop bring in,
That now hedg in no Cuckows but their sin!
O! Holy One! Prince Disinheriting,
Shew how they stamp with zealous spite at will
On poor black Boxes, an Exclusion Bill.
Yet giving (gentle Pencil!) each man leave
To have a Weather-Glass within his sleeve,
VVhose Motto peeping out, minds what their will is,
(Tempora Mutantur nos & Mutamur in illis.
Still yielding to, with most observant care,
The changeling temper of the Ambient Air.
As free and facil, to fall low or rise,
As the prophetick Liquor Weather-wise.
But let them on and curse Pretenza more
Than ever they Hosann'd her before
[Page 128]Heaven most Triumphs, when Devils forced be
To grin confession of the Deity.
Yet draw the Roman Crow prepar'd to cry,
All Hail Great Cesar, or Mark Anthony,
According to the chance of Victory.
And lest late Janus's now cheat the Eyes
Of honest Hearts with Rainbow Loyalties,
Paint Lively out, how Earth-bred Clouds can soon
As oft in par'lels Ape the Sun or Moon;
Shew how warm Suns make Butterflyes to frisk,
And out Carvet Brave Barbs not half so brisk;
Shew how the seven Sleepers all Retreat
And hide, when Sun-Beams seem to lose their heat
And wail their Fountains power as not great.
Which when Favonius whispers in their Ear,
With his warm Breath, and tells that Sol is near,
And full of kindly power, all forth run
Like Persians, adore the Rising Sun.
This is enough to deck a Palace round
Where Prester Jack with pleasures might be Crown'd
Seeing great Cesars mighty Chariot Grace
VVith Saint Pretenza to its wheels made fast;
VVhilst true-bred Royalists fly cheerful by,
As free as Eagles through the yielding sky.
True Hearts that Cherish'd in sad VVinter-time,
Poor Loyalty damn'd for a first-rate Crime;
Tho now the very Brambles Garlands bear
Of Amaranth to Crown her Golden Hair,
Thus that great VVord which Chaos did Refine,
Still out of darkness, makes fair light to shine.
FINIS.

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