shade but all in vain Of sturdy Adamant is his strong Chain 19. While thus Heav'ns highest Counsails by the low Foot-steps of their Effects he trac'd too well He tost his troubled Eyes Embers that glow Now with new Rage and wax too hot for Hell With his foul Claws he fenc'd his â—…urrowed Brow And gave a gastly shreek whose horrid Yell Ran trembling through the hollow vaults of Night The while his twisted Tail he gnaw'd for spight 20. Yet on the other side fain would he start Above his Fears and think it cannot be He studies Scripture strives to sound the heart And feel the Pulse of every Prophecy He knows but knows not how or by what Art The Heav'n expecting Ages hope to see A Mighty Babe whose pure unspotted Birth From a chaste Virgin womb should bless the Earth 21. But these vast Mysteries his Senses smother And Reason for what 's Faith to him devour How she that is a Maid should prove a Mother Yet keep inviolate her Virgin Flow'r How Gods Eternal Son should be mans Brother Poseth his proudest Intellectual Pow'r How a pure Spirit should incarnate be And Life it self wear Death 's frail Livery 22. That the Great Angel-blinding Light should shrink His Blaze to shine in a poor Shepheards Eye That the unmeasur'd God so low should sink As Pris'ner in a few poor Rags to lie That from his Mothers Brest he Milk should drink Who feeds with Nectar Heav'ns fair Family That a vile Manger his low Bed should prove Who in a Throne of Stars Thunders above 23. That he whom the Sun serves should faintly peep Through Clouds of Infant flesh that he the old Eternal Word should be a Child and weep That he who made the Fire should fear the Cold That Heav'ns high Majesty his Court should keep In a Clay-cottage by each Blast control'd That Glories self should serve our Griefs and Fears And free Eternity submit to years 24. And further that the Law 's Eternal Giver Should bleed in his own Law 's obedience And to the circumcising Knife deliver Himself the forfeit of his Slaves offence That the unblemisht Lamb blessed for ever Should take the mark of Sin and pain of Sence These are the knotty Riddles whose dark doubt Intangles his lost Thoughts past getting out 25. While new Thoughts boyl'd in his enraged Brest His gloomy Bosomes darkest Character Was in his shady Forehead seen exprest The Forehead 's shade in Griefs expression there Is what in sign of joy among the blest The Faces lightning or a smile is here Those stings of care that his strong Heart opprest A desperate Oh me drew from his deep Brest 26. Oh me thus bellow'd he Oh me what great Portents before mine Eyes their Pow'rs advance And serves my purer sight only to beat Down my proud Thought and leave it in a Trance Frown I and can great Nature keep her seat And the gay Stars lead on their Golden dance Can his attempts above still prosp'rous be Auspicious still in spight of Hell and me 27. He has my Heaven what would he more whose bright And radiant Scepter this bold Hand should bear And for the never-fading Fields of Light My fair Inheritance he confines me here To this dark House of shades Horrour and Night To draw a long-liv'd Death where all my Cheer Is the solemnity my sorrow wears That Mankinds Torment waits upon my Tears 28. Dark dusky Man he needs would single forth To make the partner of his own pure Ray And should we Pow'rs of Heav'n Spirits of worth Bow our bright Heads before a King of Clay It shall not be said I and clomb the North Where never wing of Angel yet made way What though I mist my blow yet I strook high And to dare something is some victory 29. Is he not satisfied means he to wrest Hell from me too and sack my Territories Vile Humane Nature means he not t' invest O my despight with his Divinest Glories And rising with rich spoils upon his Brest With his fair Triumphs fill all future stories Must the bright Arms of Heav'n rebuk these Eyes Mock me and dazle my dark Mysteries 30. Art thou not Lucifer he to whom the droves Of Stars that guild the Morn in charge were given The nimblest of the Lightning-winged Loves The fairest and the first-born smile of Heav'n Look in what Pomp the Mistress Planet moves Rev'rently circled by the lesser seaven Such and so rich the Flames that from thine Eyes Opprest the common-people of the Skies 31. Ah wretch what boots thee to cast back thy Eyes Where dawning hope no beam of comfort Shows While the reflection of thy forepast joyes Renders thee double to thy present woes Rather make up to thy new Miseries And meet the mischief that upon thee grows If Hell must mourn Heav'n sure shall sympathize What force cannot effect fraud shall devise 32. And yet whose force fear I have I so lost My self my Strength too with my innocence Come try who dares Heav'n Earth what e'r dost boâ—… A borrowed Being make thy bold defence Come thy Creator too what though it cost Me yet a second fall we 'd try our strengths Heav'n saw us struggle once as brave a fight Earth now should see and tremble at the sight 33. Thus spoke th' impatient Prince and made a pause His foul Hags rais'd their Heads and clapt their Handâ—… And all the Powers of Hell in full applause Flourisht their Snakes and tost their Flaming Brands We said the horrid Sisters wait thy Laws Th' obsequious Handmaids of thy high Commands Be it thy part Hells mighty Lord to lay On us thy dread Commands ours to obey 34. What thy Alecto what these hands can do Thou mad'st bold proof upon the brow of Heav'n Nor should'st thou bate in pride because that now To these thy sooty Kingdoms thou art driven Let Heav'ns Lord chide above louder then thou In language of his Thunder thou art even With him below here thou art Lord alone Boundless and absolute Hell is thine own 35. If usual Wit and Strength will do no good Vertues of Stones nor Herbs use stronger Charms Anger and Love best hooks of Humane blood If all fail we 'll put on our proudest Arms And pouring on Heav'ns Face the Seas huge Flood Quench his curl'd fires we 'll wake with our Alarms Ruine where e'r she sleeps at Natures feet And crush the World till his wide corners meet 36. Reply'd the proud King O my Crowns defence Stay of whose strong hopes you of whose brave worth The frighted Stars took faint experience When 'gainst the Thunders mouth we marched forth Still you are prodigal of your Love's expence In our great Projects both 'gainst Heav'n and Earth I thank you all but one must single out Cruelty she alone shall cure my doubt 37. Fourth of the cursed knot of Hags is she Or rather all the other three in one Hells shop of slaughter she do's oversee And still assist the
the storm that mocks Your selves you are the Rocks Of your own doubt Besides this fear of danger there 's no danger here And he that here fears Danger does deserve his Fear On the blessed Virgins bashfulness THat on her Lap she casts her humble Eye 'T is the sweet pride of her Humility The fair Star is well fixt for where O where Could she have fixt it on a fairer Sphear 'T is Heav'n 't is Heav'n she sees Heav'ns God there lies She can see Heaven and ne'r lift up her Eyes This new Guest to her Eyes new Laws hath given 'T was once look up 'T is now look down to Heaven Upon Lazarus his Tears RIch Lazarus richer in those Gems thy Tears Then Dives in the Robes he wears He scorns them now but O they 'l sute full well With th' Purple he must wear in Hell Two went up into the Temple to Pray TWo went to pray O rather say One went to brag th' other to pray One stands up close and treads on high Where th' other dares not lend his Eye One neerer to Gods Altar trod The other to the Altar's God Upon the Asse that bore our Saviour HAth onely Anger an Omnipotence In Eloquence Within the Lips of Love and Joy doth dwell No Miracle Why else had Balaams Asseâ—…a Tongue to chide His Masters Pride And thou Heaven-burthen'd Beast hast ne'r a word To praise thy Lord That he should find a Tongue and vocal Thunder Was a great wonder But O me-thinks 't is a far greater one That thou find'st none Matt. 8. I am not worthy that thou should'st come under my Roof THy God was making haste into thy Roof Thy humble Faith and Fear keeps him aloof He 'l be thy Guest because he may not be He 'l come into thy house no into thee Upon the Powder-day HOw fit our well-rank'd Feasts do follow All mischief comes after All-Hallow I am the Door ANd now th' art set wide ope the Spear's sad Art Lo hath unlockt thee at the very Heart He to himself I fear the worst And his own hope Hath shut these Doors of Heaven that durst Thus set them ope Matt. 10. The Blind Cured by the word of our Saviour THou speak'st the Word thy Word 's a Law Thou Spak'st and streight the blind man saw To speak and make the Blind man See Was never man Lord spake like Thee To speak thus was to speak say I Not to his Ear but to his Eye Matthew 27. And he answered them nothing O Mighty Nothing unto thee Nothing we owe all things that be God spake once when he all things made He sav'd All when he Nothing said The World was made of Nothing then 'T is made by Nothing now again To our Lord upon the Water made Wine THou Water turn'st to Wine fair Friend of Life Thy Foe to cross the sweet Arts of thy Reign Distils from thence the Tears of Wrath and Strife And so turns Wine to Water back again Matthew 22. Neither durst any man from that Day ask him any more Questions MIdst all the dark and knotty Snares Black Wit or Malice can or dares Thy Glorious Wisdom breaks the Nets And treads with uncontrouled steps Thy quel'd Foes are not only now Thy Triumphs but thy Trophies too They both at once thy Conquests be And thy Conquests Memory Stony Amazement makes them stand Waiting on thy Victorious hand Like Statues fixed to the Fame Of thy renown and their own shame As if they only meant to breath To be the Life of their own Death 'T was time to hold their Peace when they Had ne'r another word to say Yet is their silence unto thee The full sound of thy Victory Their silence speaks aloud and is Thy well pronounc'd Panegyris While they speak nothing they speak all Their share in thy Memorial While they speak nothing they proclaim Thee with the shrillest Trump of Fame To hold their peace is all the ways These Wretches have to speak thy Praise Upon our Saviours Tomb wherein never man was laid HOw Life and Death in Thee Agree Thou had'st a Virgin Womb And Tomb. A Joseph did betroth Them both It is better to go into Heaven with one Eye c. ONe Eye a Thousand rather and a Thousand more To fix those full-fac't Glories O he 's poor Of Eyes that has but Argus store Yet if thou l't fill one poor Eye with thy Heaven and Thee O grant sweet Goodness that one Eye may be All and every whit of me Luke 11. Upon the dumb Devil cast out and the slanderous Jews put to silence TWo Devils at one blow thou hast laid flat A Speaking Devil this a Dumb one that Wa' st thy full Victories fairer increase That th' one spake or that thâ—… other held his peace Luk. 10. And a certain Priest comming that way looked on him and passed by Why dost thou wound my wounds O thou that passest by Handling turning them with an unwounded eye The calm that cools thine eye does shipwrack mine for O! Unmov'd to see one wretched is to make him so Luk. 11. Blessed be the Paps which Thou hast sucked SUppose he had been Tabled at thy Teats Thy Hunger feels not what he Eats He 'l have his Teat e'r long a bloody one The Mother then must suck the Son To Pontius washing his Blood-stained hands IS Murther no sin or a sin so cheap That thou need'st heap A Rape upon 't till thy Adult'rous touch Taught her these sulled Cheeks this blubber'd Face â—…he was a Nimph the Meadows knew none such Of honest Parentage of unstain'd Race The Daughter of a fair and well-fam'd Fountain As ever Silver tipt the side of shady Mountain See how she weeps and weeps that she appears Nothing but Tears Each drop's a Tear that weeps for her own wast Hark how at every touch she does complain her Hark how she bids her frighted Drops make haste And with sad Murmurs chides the hands that stain her Leave leave for shame or else Good judge decree What water shal wash this when this hath washed thee Matthew 23. Ye build the Sepulchres of the Prophets THou trim'st a Prophet's Tomb and dost bequeath The Life thou took'st from him unto his Death Vain Man the stones that on his Tomb do lie Keep but the score of them that made him die Upon the Infant Martyrs TO see both blended in one Flood The Mothers Milk the Childrens Blood Makes me doubt if Heaven will gather Roses hence or Lillies rather Joh. 16. Verily I say unto you ye shall weep and lament WElcome my Grief my Joy how dear's â—…o me my Legacy of Tears I 'll weep and weep and will therefore Weep 'cause I can weep no more Thou thou Dear Lord even thou alone Giv'st joy even when thou givest none Joh. 15. Upon our Lords last comfortable Discourse with his Disciples ALl Hybla's Honey all that sweetness can Flows in thy Song O fair O dying Swan Yet is the joy I take
triumphi Et satis ah nostri causa doloris erat Causa doloris erat Carolus sospes licet esset Anglia quod saltem discere posset Abest Et satis est nostri Carolus nunc causa triumphi Dicere quod saltem possumus Ille redit Ad Principem nondum natum NAscere nunc O nunc quid enim puer alme moraris Nulla tibi dederit dulcior hora diem Ergone tot tardos O lente morabere menses Rex redit Ipse veni dic bone Gratus ades Nam quid Ave nostrum quid nostri verba triumphi Vagitu melius dixeris ista tuo At maneas tamen nobis nova causa triumphi Sic demum fueris nec nova causa tamen Nam quoties Carolo novus aut nova nascitur infans Revera toties Carolus ipse redit CARMEN DEO NOSTRO Te Decet HYMNUS SACRED POEMS COLLECTED CORRECTED AUGMENTED Most Humbly PRESENTED TO MY LADY THE COUNTESSE OF DENBIGH By her Most devoted Servant RICH. CRASHAW In hearty acknowledgement of his immortal Obligation to her Goodness and Charity CRASHAWE THE ANAGRAM HE WAS CAR. WAs Car then Crashaw or was Crashaw Car Since both within one name combined are Yes Car's Crashaw he Car 't is Love alone Which melts two hearts of both composing one So Crashaw's still the same so much desired By strongest Wits so honor'd so admired Car Was but He that enter'd as a friend With whom he shar'd his thoughts and did commend While yet he liv'd this Work they lov'd each other Sweet Crashaw was his friend he Crashaws Brother So Car hath Title then 't was his intent That what his Riches pen'd poor Car should Print Nor fears he check praising that happy one Who was belov'd by all disprais'd by none To wit being pleas'd with all things he pleas'd all Nor would he give nor take offence befal What Might he would possess himself and live As dead devoid of interest t' all might give Disease t' his well composed mind forestall'd With Heavenly Riches which had wholly call'd His thoughts from Earth to live above in th' Air A very Bird of Paradise No care Had he of earthly trash What might suffice To fit his soul to Heavenly exercise Sufficed him and may we guess his hart By what his Lips bring forth his onely part Is God and Godly thoughts Leaves doubt to none But that to whom one God is all all 's one What he might eat or wear he took no thought His needful food he rather found then sought He seeks no Downs no Sheets his Bed's still made If he can find a Chair or Stool he 's laid When day peeps in he quits his restless rest And still poor soul before he 's up he 's drest Thus dying did he live yet liv'd to dye In th' Virgins Lap to whom he did ayply His Virgin thoughts and words and thence was styl'd By foes the Chaplain of the Virgin mild While yet he liv'd without his Modesty Imparted this to some and they to me Live happy then dear soul injoy thy rest Eternally by pains thou purchasedst While Car must live in Care who was thy friend Nor cares he how he live so in the end He may injoy his dearest Lord and thee And sit and sing more skilful songs Eternally THOMAS CAR. TO THE Noblest and best of LADIES THE COUNTESSE OF DENBIGH Perswading her to Resolution in Religion and to render her self without further delay ino the Communion of the Catholick Church WHat Heaven-intreated Heart is this Stands trembling at the Gate of Bliss Holds fast the door yet dares not venture Fairly to open it and enter Whose Definition is a doubt 'Twixt Life and Death 'twixt in and out Say lingring fair why comes the birth Of your brave Soul so slowly forth Plead your pretences O you strong In weakness why you choose so long In labor of your self to lie Nor daring quite to live nor die Ah linger not lov'd Soul a slow And late consent was a long no Who grants at last long time try'd And did his best to have deny'd What Magick bolts what Mystick Barrs Maintain the Will in these strange Warrs What fatal what fantastick Bands Keep the free Heart from its own Hands So when the year takes cold we see Poor Waters their own Prisoners be Fetter'd and lock d up fast they ly In a sad self-captiâ—…ity Th' astonisht Nymphs their floods strange fate deplore To see themselves their own severer shore Thou that alone canst thaw this cold And fetch the Heart from its strong Hold Almighty Love end this long War And of a Meteor make a Star O fix this fair Indefinite And mongst thy shafts of Soveraign light Choose out that sure decisive Dart Which has the Key of this close Heart Knows all the corners of 't and can controul The self-shut Cabinet of an unsearcht soul. O let it be at last Love s hour Raise this tall Trophee of thy Pow'r Come once the conquering way not to confute But kill this Rebel-word Irresolute That so in spight of all this peevish strength Of weakness she may write Resolv'd at Length Unfold at length unfold fair Flow'r And use the season of Love's show'r Meet his well-meaning wounds wise Heart And haste to drink the wholsome Dart That Healing shaft which Heav'n till now Has in Loves Quiver hid for you O Dart of Love Arrow of Light O happy you if it hit right It must not fall in vain it must Not mark the dry regardless dust Fair one it is your Fate and brings Eternal Words upon its Wings Meet it with wide-spread Arms and see It 's seat your soul 's just center be Disband dull fears give faith the day To save your life kill your delay It is Loves Siege and sure to be Your triumph though his Victory 'T is cowardise that keeps this Field And want of Courage not to yield Yield then O yield that Love may win The Fort at last and let Life in Yield quickly lest perhaps you prove Death's prey before the prize of Love This Fort of your fair self if 't be not won He is repulst indeed but you 'r undone To the Name above every Name the Name of JESUS A Hymn I Sing the Name which none can say But touch't with an interiour Ray The name of our new Peace our Good Our Blisse and supernatural Blood The name of all our Lives and Loves Hearken and help ye Holy Doves The high-born Brood of Day you bright Candidates of blissful Light The Heirs Elect of Love whose Names belong Unto the everlasting life of Song All ye wise souls who in the wealthy Brest Of this unbounded Name build your warm Nest. Awake my Glory Soul if such thou be And that fair Word at all refer to thee Awake and Sing And be all Wing Bring hither thy whole Self and let me see What of thy Parent Heav'n yet speaks in Thee O thou art Poor Of Noble Pow'rs I see And full of
Give to Cesar and to God p. 19 But now they have seen and heard p. 20 Upon the crown of Thorns taken from our blessed Lords head all bloody p. 20 She began to wash his feet with Tears and wipe them with the hairs of her head p. 20 On St Peter cutting off Malchus his ear p. 21 But men loved darkness rather then light p. 21 I am ready not only to be bound but to dye p. 21 On St Peter's casting away his Nets at our Saviour's call p. 21 Our Lord in his Circumcision to his Father p. 22 On the wounds of our crucified Lord. p. 22 On our crucified Lord naked and bloody p. 23 Easter day p. 23 On the bleeding wounds of our crucified Saviour p. 24 Sampson to Dalilah p. 26 Psalm 23. p. 26 Psalm 137. p. 28 A Hymn on the Nativity sung by the Shepherds p. 29 Sospetto d'Herode p. 33 On a Prayer book sent to Mistris M. R. p. 56 On Mr. G. Herbert's Book intituled The Temple of sacred Poems sent to a Gentlewoman p. 60 A Hymn to the Name and Honour of St. Teresa that sought an early Martyrdom p. 61 An Apology for the precedent Hymn p. 67 On a Treatise of Charity p. 68 On the Glorious Assumption of the Blessed Virgin p 70 A Hymn on the Circumcision of our Lord. p. 72 On Hope by way of Question and Answer between A. Cowley and R. Crashaw p. 74 Musick 's Duel p. 81 Upon the death of a Gentleman p. 86 Upon the death of Mr. Herris p. 87 Another on the same p. 89 Another p. 91 His Epitaph p. 93 An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife who died and were buried together p. 95 An Epitaph upon Dr. 〈◊〉 p. 95 Upon Mr. Staninough's death p. 96 Upon the Duke of York's birth a Penegyrick p. 97 Upon Ford's Two Tragedies p. 100 On a foul morning being then to take a journey p. 101 Upon the fair Aethiopian sent to a Gentlewoman p. 102 On Marriage p. 102 To the morning satisfaction for sleep p. 102 Loves Horoscope p. 104 Out of Virgil in praise of the Spring p. 106 With a picture sent to a friend p. 107 In praise of Lessius his rule of Health p. 108 The beginning of Heliodorus p. 109 Out of the Greek Cupid's Cryer p. 110 On Nanus p. 112 Upon Venus putting on Mars his Arms. p. 115 Upon the same p. 115 Upon Bishop Andrew's Picture before his Sermons p. 115 Out of Martial p. 116 Out of Italian a Song p. 117 Another out of Italian p. 119 Another p. 119 On the Frontispiece of Isaacson's Chronologie p. 120 Another p. 121 An Epitaph upon Mr. Ashton a Conformable Citizen p. 122 Wishes to his supposed Mistress p. 124 In Picturam reverendissimi Episcopi D. Andrews p 129 Epitaphium in Dominum Herrisium p. 129 Principi recens natae omen Maternae Indolis p. 131 In Reginae partum hyemalem p. 133 Ad Reginam p. 134 In faciem Regis a morbillis Integram p. 135 Rex Redux p. 136 Ad Principem nondum natum p. 137 Crashaw the Anagram He Was Car. p. 141 To the Countess of Denbigh perswading her to resolution c. p. 143 To the Name above every name the Name Jesus a Hymn p. 146. A Hymn on the Epiphany sung as by the Three Kings p. 153 To the Queen upon Twelft-day p. 161 The Office of the Holy Crâ—…h p. 162 For the hour of Prime p. 164 The Third p. 165 The Sixth p. 167 The Ninth p. 169 Even-song p. 170 Compline p. 172 The Recommendation p. 173 Vexilla Regis The Hymn of the Holy Cross. p. 174 Charitas Nimia Or the dear Bargain p. 176 Sancta Maria dolorosa or The Mother of sorrows p. 178 The Hymn of St Thomas in Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament p. 183 The Hymn Lauda Sion c. p. 187 The Hymn in meditation of the day of judgement p. 191 The Hymn O Gloriosa Domina p. 194 The Flaming heart upon the Book and Picture of St. Teresa p. 196 A Song p. 197 Second part p. 197 To Mistress M. R. Councel concerning her Choise p. 198 Alexias The complaint of the forsaken wife of Saint Alexis The First Elegy p. 200 The Second Elegy p. 201 The Third Elegy p. 202 Description of a Religious House and condition of Life c. p. 204 Deaths Lecture the Funeral of a young Gentleman p. 206 Temperance or the cheap Physitian upon the Translation of Lessius p. 207 The Weeper 1 HAil Sister Springs Parents of Silver-forded rills Ever bubling things Thawing Christal Snowy Hills Still spending never spent I mean Thy fair Eyes sweet Magdalene 2 Heavens thy fair Eyes be Heavens of ever-falling stars T is seed-time still with thee And Stars thou sow'st whose Harvest dares Promise the earth to countershine What ever makes Heavens fore-head fine 3 But we 're deceived all Stars they 're indeed too true For they but seem to fall As Heavens other spangles do It is not for our Earth and us To shine in things so pretious 4 Upwards thou dost weep Heavens bosome drinks the gentle stream Where th' Milky Rivers meet Thine Crawls above and is the Cream Heaven of such fair Floods as this Heaven the Christal Ocean is 5 Every morn from hence A brisk Cherub something sips Whose soft influence Adds sweetness to his sweetest Lips Then to his Musick and his Song Tastes of this breakfast all day long 6 When some new bright guest Takes up among the stars a room And Heaven will make a Feast Angels with their Bottles come And draw from these full Eyes of thine Their Masters Water their own Wine 7 The Dew no more will weep The Primroses pale Cheek to deck The Dew no more will sleep Nuzzel'd in the Lillies Neck Much rather would it Tremble here And leave them both to be thy Tear 8 Not the soft Gold which Steals from the Amber-weeping Tree Makes Sorrow half so Rich As the drops distill'd from thee Sorrows best Jewels lie in these Caskets of which Heaven keeps the Keys 9 When Sorrow would be seen In her brightest Majesty For she is a Queen Then is she drest by none but thee Then and only then she wears Her richest Pearls I mean thy Tears 10 Not in the Evenings Eyes When they red with weeping are For the Sun that dies Sits Sorrow with a Face so fair No where but here did ever meet Sweetness so sad sadness so sweet 11 Sadness all the while She sits in such a Throne as this Can do nought but smile Nor believes she sadness is Gladness it self would be more glad To be made so sweetly sad 12 There is no need at all That the Balsome-sweating bough So coyly should let fall His med'cinable â—…ears for now Nature hath learn't t'extract a Dew More Soveraign and Sweet from you 13 Yet let the poor drops weep Weeping is the case of Woe Softly let them creep Sad that they are vanquish't so They though to others no relief
May Balsome be for their own grief 14 Golden though he be Golden Tagus murmurs though Might he flow from thee Content and quiet would he go Richer far does he esteem Thy Silver then his Golden stream 15 Well does the May that lies Smiling in thy Cheeks confess The April in thine Eyes Mutual sweetness they express No April e'r lent softer Showres Nor May returned fairer Flowers 16 Thus dost thou melt the year Into a weeping motion Each minute waiteth here Takes his Tear and gets him gone By thine Eyes tinct enobled thus Time lays him up he 's precious 17 Time as by thee he passes Makes thy ever-watry Eyes His Hour-Glasses By them his steps he rectifies The Sands he us'd no longer please For his own Sands he 'l use thy Seas 18 Does thy Song lull the Air Thy Tears just Cadence still keeps time Does thy sweet breath'd Prayer Up in clouds of incense climb Still at each sigh that is each stop A Bead that is a Tear doth drop 19 Does the Night arise Still thy Tears do fall and fall Does night loose her Eyes Still the Fountain weeps for all Let Night or Day do what they will Thou hast thy Taske thou weepest still 20 Not so long she liv'd Will thy Tomb report of thee But so long she griev'd Thus must we date thy memory Others by Days by Moneths by Years Measure their Ages Thou by Tears 21 Say watry Brothers Ye simpering Sons of those fair Eyes Your fertile Mothers What hath our World that can entice You to be born what is 't can borrow You from her Eyes swoln wombs of Sorrow 22 Whither away so fast O whither for the sluttish Earth Your sweetness cannot taste Nor does the Dust deserve your Birth Whither haste ye then O say Why ye trip so fast away 23 We go not to seek The darlings of Aurora's Bed The Roses modest Cheek Nor the Violets humble head No such thing we goe to meet A worthier Object Our Lords Feet The Tear 1 WHat bright soft thing is this Sweet Mary thy fair Eyes expence A moist spark it is A watry Diamond from whence The very Term I think was found The water of a Diamond 2 O 't is not a Tear 'T is a Star about to drop From thine Eye its sphear The Sun will stoop and take it up Proud will his Sister be to wear This thine Eyes Jewel in her Ear. 3 O 't is a Tear Too true a Tear for no sad Eyne How sad so e're Rain so true a Tear as thine Each Drop leaving a place so dear Weeps for it self is its own Tear 4 Such a Pearl as this is Slipt from Aurora's dewy Brest The Rose-buds sweet Lip kisses And such the Rose its self when vext With ungentle flames does shed Sweating in too warm a Bed 5 Such the Maiden Gemme By the wanton Spring put on Peeps from her Parent stemme And blushes on the watry Sun This watry Blossome of thy Eyne Ripe will make the richer Wine 6 Fair Drop why quak'st thou so 'Cause thou streight must lay thy Head In the Dust O no The Dust shall never be thy Bed A Pillow for thee will I bring Stuft with Down of Angels wing 7 Thus carried up on high For to Heaven thou must go Sweetly shalt thou lye And in soft slumbers bath thy Woe Till the singing Orbs awake thee And one of their bright Chorus make thee 8 There thy self shalt be An Eye but not a weeping one Yet I doubt of thee Whither th' hadst rather there have shone An Eye of Heaven or still shine here In th' Heaven of Mary's eye a Teare Divine Epigrams On the water of our Lords Baptisme EAch Blest Drop on each Blest Limb Is washt it self in washing him 'T is a Gemme while it stays here While it falls hence 't is a Tear Act. 8. On the Baptized Aethiopian LEt it no longer be a forlorn-hope To wash an Ethiope He 's washt his gloomy skin a peaceful shade For his White Soul is made And now I doubt not the Eternal Dove A black-fac'd house will love On the Miracle of multiplied Loaves SEe here an easie Feast that knows no wound That under Hungers Teeth will needs be found A subtle Harvest of unbounded bread What would ye more Here Food it self is fed Upon the Sepulchre of our Lord. HEre where our Lord once laid his Head Now the Grave lies Buried The Widows Mites TWo Mites two Drops yet all her House and Land Falls from a steady Heart though trembling Hand The others wanton wealth foams high and brave The other cast away she only gave Luke 15. On the Prodigal TEll me bright Boy tell me my Golden Lad Whither away so frolick why so glad What all thy Wealth in Council all thy State Are Husks so deer troth 't is a Mighty Rate On the still surviving Marks of our Saviours Wounds WHat ever story of their cruelty Or Nail or Thorn or Spear have writ in Thee Are in another Sence Still Legible Sweet is the difference Once I did spell Every red Letter A wound of thine Now what is better Balsome for mine Act. 5. The Sick implore St. Peter's shadow UNder thy shadow may I lurk a while Death's busie search I 'll easily beguile Thy shadow Peter must shew me the Sun My Light 's thy shadow's shadow or 't is done Mar. 7. The Dumb healed and the People enjoyned silence CHrist bids the dumb Tongue speak it speaks the sound He charges to be quiet it runs round If in the first he us'd his fingers Touch His hands whole strength here could not be too much Mat. 28. Come see the place where the Lord lay SHow me himself himself bright Sir O show Which way my poor Tears to himself may go Were it enough to show the place and say Look Mary here see where thy Lord once lay Then could I show these Arms of mine and say Look Mary here see where thy Lord once lay To Pontius washing his hands THy Hands are washt but O the water 's spilt That labour'd to have washt thy guilt The Flood if any can that can suffice Must have its Fountain in thine Eyes To the Infant Martyrs GO smiling Souls your new built Cages break In Heav'n you 'l learn to sing e'r here to speak Nor let the milky Fonts that bath your Thirst Be your delay The place that calls you hence is at the worst Milk all the way On the Miracle of Loaves NOw Lord or never they 'l beleeve on thee Thou to their Teeth hast prov'd thy Deity Mark 4. Why are ye afraid O ye of little faith AS if the storm meant him Or 'cause Heavens face is dim His needs a Cloud Was ever froward wind That could be so unkind Or wave so proud The Wind had need be angry and the Water black That to the mighty Neptune's self dare threaten wrack There is no storm but this Of your own Cowardise That braves you out You are
Bliss On whose Pastures cheerful Spring All the year doth sit and Sing And rejoycing smiles to see Their Green Backs wear his Livery Pleasure sings my Soul to rest Plenty wears me at her Brest Whose sweet Temper teaches me Nor wanton nor in want to be At my Feet the blub'ring Mountain Weeping melts into a Fountain Whose soft silver-sweating Streams Make high Noon forget his Beams When my waiward Breath is flying He calls home my soul from dying Strokes and tames my rabid Grief And does woo me into life When my simple weakness strays Tangled in forbidden ways He my Shepheard is my guide He 's before me on my side And behind me he beguiles Craft in all her knotty wiles He expounds the giddy wonder Of my weary steps and under Spreads a Path clear as the Day Where no churlish rub says nay To my joy-conducted Feet Whilst they gladly go to meet Grace and Peace to meet new laies Tun'd to my great Sheapheards praise Come now all ye Terrors Sally Muster forth into the Valley Where Triumphant darkness hovers With a sable Wing that covers Brooding Horror Come thou Death Let the damps of thy dull Breath Overshadow even the shade And make darkness self-afraid There my Feet even there shall find Way for a resolved mind Still my Shepheard still my God Thou art with me Still thy Rod And thy Staff whose influence Gives direction gives defence At the whisper of thy Word Crown'd abundance spreads my Board While I Feast my Foes do feed Their rank Malice not their Need So that with the self-same Bread They are Starv'd and I am Fed. How my Head in Ointment swims How my Cup o're-looks her brims So even so still may I move By the Line of thy dear Love Still may thy sweet Mercy spread 〈◊〉 shady Arm above my Head About my Paths so shall I find The fair Center of my mind Thy Temple and those Lovely walls Bright ever with a Beam that falls Fresh from the pure glance of thine Eye Lighting to Eternity There I 'le dwell for ever there Will I find a purer Air. To feed my Life with there I 'le sup Balme and Nectar in my Cup And thence my ripe Soul will I breath Warm into the Arms of Death Psalm 137. ON the proud Banks of great Euphrates Flood There we sate and there we wept Our Harps that now no Musick understood Nodding on the Willows slept While unhappy captiv'd we Lovely Sion thought on thee They they that snatcht us from our Countreys Bresâ—… Would have a Song carv'd to their Ears In Hebrew numbers then O cruel Jest When Harps and Hearts were drown'd in Tears Come they cry'd come Sing and Play One of Sions Songs to day Sing Play to whom ah shall we Sing or Play If not Jerusalem to thee Ah thee Jerusalem ah sooner may This Hand forget the Mastery Of Musicks dainty touch then I The Musick of thy Memory Which when I lose O may at once my Tongue Lose this same busie speaking Art Unpearcht her vocal Arteries unstrung No more acquainted with my Heart On my dry Pallats roof to rest A wither'd Leaf an idle Guest No no thy good Sion alone must Crown The head of all my hope-nurst Joyes But Edom cruel thou thou cry'dst down down Sink Sion down and never rise Her falling thou didst urge and thrust And haste to dash her into Dust. Dost laugh proud Babels Daughter do laugh on Till thy ruine teach thee Tears Even such as these laugh till a venging throng Of woes too late doe rouze thy fears Laugh till thy Childrens bleeding Bones Weep precious Tears upon the stones Quem vidistis Pastores c. A Hymn of the Nativity sung by the Shepheards Chorus COme we Shepheards who have seen Days King deposed by Nights Queen Come lift we up our lofty Song To wake the Sun that sleeps too long He in this ouâ—… general Joy Slept and Dreamt of no such thing While we found out the fair-ey'd Boy And kist the Cradle of our King Tell him he rises now too late To shew us ought worth looking at Tell him we now can shew him more Then he e'r shew'd to Mortal sight Then he himself e'r saw before Which to be seen needs not his Light Tell him Tityrus where th' hast been Tell him Thyrsis what th' hast seen Tityrus Gloomy Night embrac't the place Where the Noble Infant lay The Babe lookt up and shew'd his Face In spight of Darkness it was Day It was thy Day Sweet and did rise Not from the East but from thy Eyes Thyrsis Winter chid the World and sent The angry North to wage his Wars The North forgot his fierce intent And left Perfumes instead of Scars By those sweet Eyes persuasive Powers Where he meant Frosts he scattered Flowers Bâ—…th We saw thee in thy Balmy-Nest Bright Dawn of our Eternal Day We saw thine Eyes break from the East And chase the trembling Shades away We saw thee and we blest the sight We saw thee by thine own sweet Light Tityrus I saw the curl'd Drops soft and slow Come hovering o'r the places head Offring their whitest sheets of Snow To furnish the fair Infants Bed Forbear said I be not too bold Your Fleece is white but 't is too cold Thyrsis I saw th' Officious Angels bring The Down that their soft Brests did strow For well they now can spare their Wings When Heaven it self lies here below Fair Youth said I be not too rough Your Down though soft's not soft enough Tityrus The Babe no sooner 'gan to seek Where to lay his Lovely Head But streight his Eyes advis'd his Cheek 'Twixt Mothers Brests to goe to Bed Sweet choise said I no way but so Not to lie cold yet sleep in Snow All. Welcome to our wondring sight Eternity shut in a Span Summer in Winter Day in Night Chorus Heaven in Earth and God in Man Great little one whose Glorious Birth Lifts Earth to Heaven stoops Heaven to Earth Welcome though not to Gold nor Silk To more then Cesar's Birth-right is Two Sister-Seas of Virgins Milk With many a rarely-temper'd Kiss That Breaths at once both Maid and Mother Warms in the one cools in the other She sings thy Tears asleep and dips Her Kisses in thy weeping Eye She spreads the red Leaves of thy Lips That in their Buds yet Blushing lye She 'gainst those Mother Diamonds tryes The points of her young Eagles Eyes Welcome though not to those gay Flies Gilded i' th' Beams of Earthly Kings Slippery Souls in smiling Eyes But to poor Shepheards simple things That use no Varnish no oyl'd Arts But life clean Hands full of cleer Hearts Yet when young Aprils Husband Showers Shall Bless the fruitful Maiâ—…'s Bed We 'll bring the first-born of her Flowers To Kiss thy Feet and Crown thy Head To thee Dread Lamb whose Love must keep The Shepheards while they feed their Sheep To thee meek Majesty soft King Of simple Graces and sweet Loves Each
which went before And waited for thee at the Door Shall own thee there and all in one Weave a Constellation Of Crowns with which the King thy spouse Shall build up thy triumphant Brows All thy old Woes shall now smile on thee And thy pains set bright upon thee All thy sorrows here shall shine And thy sufferings be Divine Tears shall take Comfort and turn Gems And wrongs repent to Diadems Even thy deaths shall live and new Dress the soul which late they slew Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scarrs As keep account of the Lambs wars Those rare Works where thou shalt leave Writ Loves Noble History with Wit Taught thee by none but him while here They seed our souls shall cloath thine there Each Heavenly Word by whose hid flame Our hard hearts shall strike fire the same Shall flourish on thy Brows and be Both Fire to us and Flame to thee Whose Light shall live bright in thy face By Glory in our Hearts by Grace Thou shalt look round about and see Thousands of crown'd Souls throng to be Themselves thy Crown Sons of thy Nows The Virgin Births with which thy Spouse Made fruitful thy fair soul Go now And with them all about thee bow To him put on he 'l say put on My Rosy Love that thy rich Zone Sparkling with the sacred Flames Of thousand souls whose happy names Heaven keeps upon thy score thy bright Life brought them first to kiss the Light That kindled them to starrs and so Thou with the Lamb thy Lord shall 't goe And where so e'r he sits his white Steps walk with him those ways of Light Which who in death would live to see Must learn in life to dye like thee An Apology for the precedent Hymn as having been writ when the Author was yet a Protestant THus have I back again to thy bright name Fair sea of Holy fires transfus'd the Flame 〈◊〉 took from reading thee 't is to thy wrong 〈◊〉 know that in my weak and worthless song Thou here art set to shine where thy full day â—…carce dawns O pardon if I dare to say â—…hine own dear Books are guilty for from thence 〈◊〉 Learnt to know that Love is Eloquence â—…hat Heavenly Maxim gave me heart to try 〈◊〉 what to other Tongues is Tun'd so high â—…hy praise might not speak English too forbid By all thy Mysteries that there lye hid â—…orbid it Mighty Love let no fond hate â—…f Names and Words so far prejudicate â—…uls are not Spaniards too one friendly Flood â—…f Baptisme blends them all into one Blood â—…hrists Faith makes but one body of all souls â—…nd loves that Bodies Soul no Law controuls â—…ur free Trafick for Heaven we may maintain â—…eace sure with Piety though it dwell in Spain â—…hat Soul soever in any Language can â—…eak Heav'n like hers is my Souls countrey-man O 'T is not Spanish but 't is Heaven she speaks 'T is Heaven that lies in Ambush there and breaks From thence into the wondring Readers Brest Who finds his warm heart hatch into a nest Of little Eagles and young Loves whose high Flights scorn the Lazie Dust and things that dye There are enow whose Draughts as deep as Hell Drink up all Spain in Sack let my Soul swell With thee strong Wine of Love let others swim In puddles we will pledge this Seraphim Bowls full of richer Blood then blush of Grape Was ever guilty of change we our shape My soul some drink from Men to Beasts O then Drink we till we prove more not less then Men And turn not Beasts but Angels Let the King Me ever into these his Cellars bring Where flows such Wine as we can have of none But him who trode the Wine-press all alone Wine of Youths life and the sweet deaths of Love Wine of immortal mixture which can prove Its Tincture from the Rosie Nectar Wine That can exalt weak Earth and so refine Our Dust that in one Draught Mortality May drink it self up and forget to dye On a Treatise of Charity RIse then immortal Maid Religion rise Put on thy self in thine own looks t' our Eyes Be what thy Beauties not our blots have made thee Such as e'r our dark sins to Dust betray'd thee Heav'n set thee down new drest when thy bright Birth Shot thee like Lightning to th' astonisht Earth From th' dawn of thy fair Eye-lids wipe away Dull Mists and melancholly Clouds take day And thine own Beams about thee bring the best Of whatsoe'r persum'd thy Eastern Nest. Girt all thy Glories to thee then sit down Open this Book fair Queen and take thy Crown These learned Leaves shall vindicate to thee Thy Holiest Humblest Handmaid Charity She 'l dress thee like thy self set thee on high Where thou shalt reach all hearts command each Eye Lo where I see thy offrings wake and rise From the pale Dust of that strange Sacrifice which they themselves were each one putting on A Majesty that may beseem thy Throne The Holy Youth of Heav'n whose Golden Rings Girt round thy awful Altars with bright wings Fanning thy fair Locks which the World believes As much as sees shall with these sacred Leaves Trick their tall Plumes and in that garb shall go If not more glorious more conspicuous tho Be it enacted then By the fair Laws of thy firm-pointed Pen Gods services no longer shall put on A sluttishness for pure Religion No longer shall our Churches frighted stones Lie scatter'd like the Burnt and Martyr'd bones Of dead Devotion nor faint Marbles weep â—…n their sad Ruines nor Religion keep A melancholly Mansion in those cold â—…rns Like Gods Sanctuaries they lookt of old Now seem they Temples consecrate to none Or to a new God Desolation No more the Hypocrite shall th' upright be Because he 's stiff and will confess no Knee While others bend their Knee no more shalt thou Disdainful Dust and Ashes bend thy Brow Nor on Gods Altar cast two scorching Eyes Bak't in hot scorn for a burnt Sacrifice But for a Lamb thy tame and tender Heart New struck by Love still trembling on his Dart Or for two Turtle Doves it shall suffice To bring a pair of meek and humble Eyes This shall from henceforth be the Masculine Theme Pulpits and Pens shall sweat in to redeem Vertue to Action that Life-feeding flame That keeps Religion warm not swell a name Of faith a Mountain word made up of Air With those dear spoils that wont to dress the Fair And fruitful Charities full Breasts of old Turning her out to tremble in the cold What can the Poor hope from us when we be Uncharitable ev'n to Charity On the Glorious Assumption of the Blessed Virgin HArk she is call'd the parting hour is come take thy farwel poor world heaven must go home A piece of Heavenly Light purer and brighter Then the chast stars whose choice Lamps come to ligâ—… 〈◊〉 While through the Christal Orbs clearer then they She climbs and makes a
far more Milky way She 's call'd again hark how th' immortal Dove Sighs to his Silver Mate rise up my Love Rise up my fair my spotless one The Winter 's past the Rain is gone The Spring is come the Flowers appear No Sweets since thou art wanting here Come away my Love Come away my Dove cast off delay The Court of Heav'n is come To wait upon thee home Come away come away She 's cal'd again and will she goe When Heaven bids come who can say no Heav'n calls her and she must away Heaven will not and she cannot stay Goe then goe Glorious on the Golden wings Of the bright youth of Heav'n that sings Under so sweet a burden go Since thy great Son will have it so And while thou go'st our song and we Will as we may reach after thee Hail Holy Queen of humble Hearts We in thy praise will have our parts And though thy dearest looks must now be light To none but the blest Heavens whose bright Beholders lost in sweet delight Feed for ever their fair sight With those Divinest Eyes which we And our dark World no more shall see Though our poor joys are parted so Yet shall our Lips never let go Thy Gracious Name but to the last Our loving Song shall hold it fast Thy sacred Name shall be Thy self to us and we With Holy cares will keep it by us We to the last Will hold it fast And no Assumptiyn shall deny us All the sweetest Showers Of our fairest Flowers Will we strow upon it Though our sweetness cannot make It sweeter they may take Themselves new sweetness from it Maria Men and Angels sing Maria Mother of our King Live rarest Princess and may the bright Crown of a most incomparable Light Embrace thy radiant Brows O may the best Of everlasting joys bath thy white Brest Live our chaste Love the Holy Mirth Of Heaven and Humble Pride of Earth Live Crown of Women Queen of Men Live Mistress of our Song and when Our weak desires have done their best Sweet Angels come and sing the rest An Hymn on the Circumcision of our Lord. RIse thou best and brightest morning Rosie with a double Red With thine own Blush thy Cheeks adorning And the dear Drops this day were shed All the Purple pride of Laces The crimson Curtains of thy Bed Guild thee not with so sweet Graces Nor sets thee in so rich a Red. Of all the fair Cheekt-Flowers that fill thee None so fair thy Bosom strows As this modest Maiden Lilly Our Sins have sham'd into a Rose Bid the Golden God the Sun Burnisht in his Glorious Beams Put all his Red eyed Rubies on These Rubies shall put out his eyes Let him make poor the Purple East Rob the rich Store her Cabinets keep The pure birth of each sparkling nest That flaming in their fair Bed sleep Let him embrace his own bright Tresses With a new morning made of Gems And wear in them his wealthy dresses Another day of Diadems When he hath done all he may To make himself Rich in his rise All will be darkness to the day That breaks from one of these fair eyes And soon the sweet Truth shall appear Dear Babe e'r many days be done The Moon shall come to meet thee here And leave the long adored Sun Thy Nobler Beauty shall bereave him Of all his Eastern Paramours His Persian Lovers all shall leave him And swear Faith to thy sweeter powers Nor while they leave him shall they lose the Sun But in thy fairest Eyes find two for one On Hope By way of Question and Answer between A. Cowley and R. Crashaw Cowley HOpe whose weak being ruin'd is Alike if it succeed and if it miss Whom Ill and Good doth equally confound And both the horns of Fate 's dilemma wound Vain shadow that doth vanish quite Both at full Noon and perfect Night The Fates have not a possibility Of Blessing thee If things then from their ends we happy call 'T is Hope is the most hopeless thing of all Crashaw Dear Hope Earth's Dowry and Heaven's Debt The Entity of things that are not yet Subt'lest but surest Being Thou by whom Our Nothing hath a Definition Fair cloud of Fire both Shade and Light Our Life in Death our Day in Night Fates cannot find out a capacity Of hurting thee From thee their thinn Dilemma with blunt Horn Shrinks like the sick Moon at the wholsome morn Cowley Hope thou bold taster of Delight Who instead of doing so devour'st it quite Thou bring'st us an Estate yet leav'st us poor By clogging it with Legacies before The joys which we intire should wed Come deflour'd Virgins to our Bed Good Fortunes without Gain imported be So mighty Custome's paid to thee For Joy like Wine kept close doth better taste If it take Air before its spirits waste Crashaw Thou art Loves Legacy under Lock Of Faith the Steward of our growing stock Our Crown-Lands lie above yet each Meal brings A seemly Portion for the Sons of Kings Nor will the Virgin-joys we wed Come less unbroken to our Bed Because that from the Bridal Cheek of Bliss Thou thus steal'st down a distant Kiss Hopes chaste Kiss wrongs no more joys Maidenhead Then Spousal Rites prejudge the Marriage-bed Cowley Hope Fortunes cheating Lottery Where for one Prize an hundred Blanks there be Fond Archer Hope who tak'st thine aim so farre That still or short or wide thine Arrows are Thine empty Cloud the Eye it self deceives With shapes that our own Fancy gives A Cloud which Gilt and Painted now appears But must drop presently in Tears When thy false Beams o'r Reasons light prevail By ignes fatui not North Stars we sail Crashaw Fair Hope our earlier Heaven by thee Young Time is taster to Eternity The generous Wine with Age grows strong not sower Nor need we kill thy Fruit to smell thy Flower Thy Golden Head never hangs down Till in the Lap of Loves full noon It falls and dyes oh no it melts away As doth the dawn into the day As lumps of Sugar lose themselves and twine Their subtle Essence with the soul of Wine Cowley Brother of Fear more gaily clad The merrier fool o' th' two yet quite as mad Sire of Repentance Shield of fond desire That blows the Chymicks and the Lovers fire Still leading them insensibly on With the strange Witchcraft of Anon Bythee the one doth changing Nature through Her endless Labyrinths pursue And th' other chases woman while she goes More ways and turns then hunted Nature knows Crashaw Fortune alas above the Worlds Law wars Hope kicks the curl'd Heads of conspiring Stars Her Keel cuts not the Waves where our winds stirre And Fate 's whole Lottery is one blank to her Her shafts and she fly farre above And forrage in the Fields of Light and Love Sweet Hope kind Cheat fair Fallacy by thee We are not where or what we be But what and where we would thus art thou Our absent
glad Earth they tread on while with thee Those Beams that ampliate Mortality And teach it to expatiate and swell To Majestie and fulness deign to dwell Thou by thy self mayst sit Blest Isle and see How thy Great Mother Nature doats on thee Thee therefore from the rest apart she hurl'd And seem'd to make an Isle but made a World Great Charles thou sweet Dawn of a Glorious day Center of those thy Grandsires shall I say Henry and James or Mars and Phoebus rather If this were Wisdom's God that War 's stern Father 'T is but the same is said Henry and James Are Mars and Phoebus under divers Names O thou full mixture of those mighty souls Whose vast intelligences tun'd the Poles Of Peace and War thou for whose Manly Brow Both Laurels twine into one Wreath and wooe To be thy Garland see sweet Prince O see Thou and the lovely hopes that smile in thee Are ta'ne out and transscrib'd by thy Great Mother See see thy real shadow see thy Brother Thy little self in less read in these Eyne The Beams that dance in those full Stars of thine From the same snowy Alablaster Rock These hands and thine were hew'n these Cherrys mock The Coral of thy Lips Thou art of all This well-wrought Copy the fair Principal Justly Great Nature may'st thou brag and tell How ev'n th' ast drawn this faithful Parallel And matcht thy Master-peece O then go on Make such another sweet comparison See'st thou that Mary there O teach her Mother To shew her to her self in such another Fellow this wonder too nor let her shine Alone Light such another Star and twine Their Rosie Beams so that the Morn for one Venus may have a Constellation So have I seen to dress their Mistress May Two Silken sister Flowers consult and lay Their bashful Cheeks together newly they Peep't from their Buds shew'd like the Gardens Eyes Scarce wak't like was the Crimson of their joys Like were the Pearls they wept so like that one Seem'd but the others kind reflexion But stay what glimpse was that why blusht the day Why ran the started Air trembling away Who 's this that comes circled in Rays that scorn Acquaintance with the Sun what second Morn At Mid-day opes a presence which Heavens Eye Stands off and points at is 't some Deity Stept from her Throne of Stars deigns to be seen Is it some Deity or is 't our Queen 'T is she 't is she her awful Beauties chase The Days abashed Glories and in face Of Noon wear their own Sunshine O thou bright Mistriss of Wonders Cynthia's is the Night But thou at Noon dost shine and art all Day Nor does the Sun deny 't our Cynthia Illustrious sweetness in thy faithful Womb That Nest of Heroes all our hopes find room Thou art the Mother Phaenix and thy Breast Chaste as that Virgin Honour of the East But much more fruitful is nor does as she Deny to Mighty Love a Deity Then let the Eastern World brag and be proud Of one coy Phaenix while we have a brood A brood of Phenixes and still the Mother And may we long long may'st thou live t' encrease The House and Family of Phaenixes Nor may the Light thar gives their Eye-lids light E're prove the dismal Morning of thy Night Ne'r may a Birth of thine be bought so dear To mak his costly Cradle of thy Beer O mayst thou thus make all the year thine own And see such Names of joy sit white upon The brow every Moneth and when that 's done Mayest in a Son of his find every Son Repeated and that Son still in another And so in each Child often prove a Mother Long maist thou laden with such clusters lean Upon thy Royal Elme fair Vine and when The Heavens will stay no longer may thy Glory And Name dwell sweet in some Eternal story Pardon bright Excellence an untun'd String That in thy Ears thus keeps a murmuring O speak a lowly Muses pardon speak Her Pardon or her Sentence onely break Thy silence speak and she shall take from thence Numbers and Sweetness and an Influence Confessing thee or if too long I stay O speak thou and my Pipe hath nought to say For see Apollo all this while stands Mute Expecting by thy Voice to Tune his Lute But Gods are Gracious and their Altars make Pretious their offerings that their Altars take Give them this Rural Wreath Fire from thine Eyes This Rural Wreath dares be thy Sacrifice Upon Ford's Two Tragedies Love's Sacrifice and The Broken Heart THou cheat'st us Ford mak'st one seem two by Art What is Love's Sacrifice but the Broken Heart On a foul Morning being then to take a journey WHere are thou Sol while thus the blind-fold day Staggers out of the East loses her way Stumbling on Night Rouze thee Illustrious Youth And let no dull Mists choak the Lights fair growth Point here thy Beams O glance on yonder Flocks And make their Fleeces Golden as thy Locks Unfold thy fair Front and there shall appear Full Glory flaming in her own free Sphear Gladness shall cloath the Earth we will instile The face of things an universal Smile Say to the sullen Morn thou com'st to Court her And wilt demand proud Zephirus to sport her With wanton Gales his Balmy Breath shall lick The tender Drops which tremble on her Cheek Which rarified and in a gentle Rain On those delicious Banks distill'd again Shall rise in a sweet Harvest which discloses To every blushing Bed of new-born Roses He 'l fan her bright â—…ocks teaching them to flow And frisk in curl'd Maeandâ—…rs he will throw A fragrant Breath suckt from the Spicy Nest O' th' precious Phaenix warm upon her Brest He with a dainty and soft hand will Trim And brush her Azure Mantle which shall swim In silken Volumes wheresoe'r she 'll tread Bright Clouds like Golden Fleeces shall be spread Rise then fair blew-ey'd Maid rise and discover Thy silver Brow and meet thy Golden Lover See how he runs with what a hasty flight Into thy Bosome bath'd with Liquid Light Fly fly prophane Fogs farr hence fly away Taint not the pure streams of the springing day With your dull influence it is for you To sit and scoul upon Nights heavy Brow Not on the fresh Cheeks of the Virgin Morn Where nought but smiles and ruddy joys are worn Fly then and do not think with her to stay Let it suffice she 'l wear no Mask to day Upon the fair Ethiopian sent to a Gentlewoman LO here the fair Chariclia in whom strove So false a Fortune and so true a Love Now after all her Toils by Sea and Land O may she but arrive at your white hand Her Hopes are Crown'd onely she fears that than She shall appear true Ethiopian On Marriage I Would be Married but I 'de have no Wife I would be Married to a single Life To the Morning Satisfaction for Sleep WHat succor can I hope the Muse will
send Whose drowsiness hath wrong'd the Muses friend What hope Aurora to propitiate thee Unless the Muse sing my Apology O in that Morning of my shame when I Lay folded up in sleeps Captivity How at the sight didst thou draw back thine Eyes Into thy modest veyl how did'st thou rise Twice Dy'd in thine own Blushes and did'st run To draw the Curtains and awake the Sun Who rowzing his illustrious Tresses came An seeing the loath'd Object hid for shame His Head in thy fair Bosome and still hides Me from his Patronage I pray he chides And pointing to dull Morpheus bids me take My own Apollo try if I can make His Lethe be my Helicon and see If Morpheus have a Muse to wait on me Hence 't is my humble Fancy finds no wings No nimble Raptures starts to Heaven and brings Enthusiastick Flames such as can give Marrow to my plump Genius make it live Drest in the glorious Madness of a Muse Whose Feet can walk the Milky way and chuse Her Starry Throne whose Holy heats can warm The Grave and hold up an exalted Arm To lift me from my lazy Urne and climb Upon the stopped shoulders of old Time And trace Eternity But all is dead All these delicious hopes are buried In the deep wrinkles of his angry Brow Where Mercy cannot find them but O thou Bright Lady of the Morn pitty doth lye So warm in thy soft Brest it cannot dye Have Mercy then and when he next shall rise O meet the angry God invade his Eyes And stroak his radiant Cheeks one timelly kiss Will kill his Anger and revive my Bliss So to the Treasure of thy pearly Deaw Thrice will I pay three Tears to show how true My grief is so my wakeful lay shall knock At th' Oriental Gates and duly mock The early Larks shrill Orizons to be An Anthem at the Days Nativity And the same Rosie-finger'd hand of thine That shuts Nights dying Eyes shall open mine But thou saint God of sleep forget that I Was ever known to be thy votary No more my Pillow shall thine Altar be Nor will I offer any more to thee My self a melting-Sacrifice I 'm born Again a fresh Child of the Buxome Morn Heir of the Suns first Beams why threat'st thou so Why dost thou shake thy Leaden Scepter goe Bestow thy Poppy upon wakeful woe Sickness and Sorrow whose pale Lids ne'r know Thy Downy Finger dwell upon their Eyes Shut in their Tears shut out their Miseries Loves Horoscope LOve brave vertues younger Brother Erst hath made my Heart a Mother She consults the conscious Sphears To câ—…lculate her young Sons years She asks if sad or saving pow'rs Gave Omen to his Infant hours She asks each â—…tar that then stood by If poor Love shall live or dye Ah my heart is that the way Are these the Beams that rule thy Day Thou know'st a Face in whose each look Beauty lays ope Loves Fortune-Book On whose fair Revolutions wait The obsequious Motions of Loves Fate Ah my Heart her Eyes and she Have taught thee new Astrology How e'r Loves Native hours were set What ever Starry Synod met T is in the Mercy of her Eye If poor Love shall live or dye If those sharp Rays putting on Points of Death bid Love begone Though the Heavens in Council sate To crown an uncontrouled Fate Though their best Aspects twin'd upon The kindest Constellation Cast amorous glances on his Birth And whisper'd the confederate Earth To pave his Paths with all the good That warms the Bed of Youth and Blood Love ha's no plea against her Eye Beauty frowns and Love must dye But if her milder infltence move And guild the hopes of humble Love Though Heavens inauspicious Eye Lay black on Loves Nativity Though every Diamond in Joves Crown Fixt his forehead to a frown Her Eye a strong appeal can give Beauty smiles and Love shall live O if Love shall live O where But in her Eye or in her Ear In her Breast or in her Breath Shall I hide poor Love from Death For in the life ought else can give Love shall dye although he live Or if Love shall dye O where But in her Eye or in her Ear In her Breath or in her Brest Shall I build his Funeral Nest While Love shall thus entombed lye Love shall live although he dye Out of Virgil In the praise of the Spring ALL Trees all Leavy Groves confess the Spring Their gentlest Friend then then the Lands begin To swell with forward pride and seed desire To generation Heavens Almighty Sire Melts on the Bosome of his Love and powrs Himself into her Lap in fruitful showres And by a soft insinuation mixt With Earths large Masse doth cherish and assist Her weak Conceptions No loan shade but Rings With chatting Birds delicious murmurings Then Venus mild instinct at set times yields The Herds to kindly meetings then the Fields Quick with warm Zephires lively breath lay forth Their pregnant Bosomes in a fragrant Birth Each body 's plump and jucy all things full Of supple moisture no coy twig but will Trust his beloved Bosome to the Sun Grown lusty now No Vine so weak and young That fears the foul-mouth'd Auster or those storms That the South-west wind hurries in his Arms But hastes her forward Blossomes and lays out Freely lays out her Leaves nor do I doubt But when the World first out of Chaos sprang So smil'd the days and so the tenor ran Of their felicity A spring was there An everlasting spring the jolly year Led round in his great Circle no winds Breath As then did smell of Winter or of Death When life's sweet Light first shone on Beasts and when From their hard Mother Earth sprang hardy men When Beasts took up their Lodging in the Wood Stars in their higher Chambers never cou'd The tender growth of things endure the sence Of such a change but that the Heav'ns indulgence Kindly supplys sick Nature and doth mold A sweetly temper'd Mean nor hot nor cold With a Picture sent to a Friend I Paint so ill my Piece had need to be Painted again by some good Poesie I write so ill my slender Line is scarce So much as th' Picture of a well-Lim'd Verse Yet may the Love I send be true though I Send not true Picture nor true Poesie Both which away I should not need to fear My Love or Feign'd or Painted should appear In praise of Lessius his rule of Health GOe now with some daring Drugg Bâ—…it the disease and while they tug Thou to maintain their cruel strife Spend the dear Treasure of thy life Go take Physick doat upon Some big-nam'd Composition The Oraculous Doctors mistick Bills Certain hard Words made into Pills And what at length shalt get by these Onely a Costlyer disease Goe poor Man think what shall be Remedy against thy Remedy That which makes us have no need Of Physick that 's Physick indeed Hark hither Reader wouldst thou see
Cough now no business here Out of Italian A Song TO thy Lover Deer discover That sweet blush of thine that shameth When those Roses It discloses All the Flowers that Nature nameth In free Air Flow thy Hair That no more Summers best dresses Be beholden For their Golden Locks to Phoebus Flaming Tresses O deliver Love his Quiver From thy Eyes he shoots his Arrows Where Apollo Cannot follow Featherd with his Mothers Sparrows O envy not That we dye not Those deer Lips whose Door encloses All the Graccs In their places Brother Pearls and Sister Roses From these Treasures Of ripe pleasures One bright smile to cleer the weather Earth and Heaven Thus made even Both will be good friends together The Air does 〈◊〉 thee Winds cling to thee Might a Word once fly from out thee Storm and Thunder Would fit under And keep silence round about Thee But if Natures Common Creatures So dear Glories dare not borrow Yet thy Beauty Owes a Duty To my loving lingring sorrow When to end me Death shall send me All his Terrors to affright me Thine Eyes Graces Guild their Faces And those Terrors shall delight me When my dying Life is flying Those sweet Airs that often slew me Shall revive me Or reprive me And to many Deaths renew me Out of the Italian LOve now no Fire hath left him We two betwixt us have divided it Your Eyes the Light hath reft him The Heat commanding in my Heart doth sit O! that poor Love be not for ever spoiled Let my Heat to your Light be reconciled So shall these Flames whose worth Now all obsoured lies Drest in those Beams start forth And dance before your Eyes Or else partake my Flames I care not whither And so in mutual Names O Love burn both together Out of the Italian WOuld any one the true cause find How Love came nak't a Boy and blind 'T is this listning one day too long To th' Syrens in my Mistress Song The extasie of a delight So much o'r-mastring all his might To that one Sense made all else thrall And so he lost his Clothes Eyes Heart and all On the Frontispiece of Isaacsons Chronologie explained IF with distinctive Eye and Mind you look Upon the Front you see more then one Book Creation is Gods Book wherein he writ Each Creature as a Letter filling it History is Creations Book which shows To what effects the Series of it goes Chronologie's the Book of History and bears The just account of Days of Moneths and Years But Resurrection in a Later Press And New Edition is the summe of these The Language of these Books had all been one Had not th' Aspiring Tow'r of Babylon Confus'd the Tongues and in a distance hurl'd As far the Speech as men o' th' new fill'd World Set then your Eyes in Method and behold Times Embleme Saturn who when store of Gold Coyn'd the first Age Devour'd that Birth he fear'd Till History Times eldest Child appear'd And Phaenix-like in spight of Saturns rage Forc'd from her Ashes Heires in every Age. From th' Rising Sun obtaining by just Suit A Springs Ingender and an Autumns Fruit. Who in those Volumes at her motion pen'd Unto Creations Alpha doth extend Again Ascend and view Chronology By Optick skill pulling far History Neerer whose Hand the piercing Eagles Eye Strengthens to bring remotest Objects nigh Under whose Feet you see the Setting Sun From the dark Gnomon o'r her Volumes run Drown'd in Eternal Night never to rise Till Resurrection show it to the Eyes Of Earth-worn men and her shril Trumpets sound Affright the Bones of Mortals from the ground The Columnes both are crown'd with either Sphere To show Chronology and History bear No other Culmen then the double Art Astronomy Geography impart Or Thus. LEt hoary Time's vast Bowels be the Grave To what his Bowels Birth and Being gave Let Nature die and Phaenix like from death Revived Nature take a second Breath If on Times right hand sit fair Historie If from the seed of empty Ruine she Can raise so fair an Harvest let her be Ne'r so far distant yet Chronology Sharp-sighted as the Eagles Eye that can Out-stare the broad-beam'd Days Meridian Will have a Perspicil to find her out And through the Night of error and dark doubt Discern the Dawn of Truth 's eternal Ray As when the Rosie Morn buds into Day Now that Time's Empire might be amply fill'd Babels bold Artists strive below to build Ruine a Temple on whose fruitful fall History rears her Pyramids more tall Then were th' Aegyptian by the life these give Th' Egyptian Pyramids themselves must live On these she lifts the World and on their base Shews the two Terms and Limits of Time's Race That the Creation is the Judgement this That the Worlds Morning this her Midnight is An Epitaph upon Mr. Ashton a Conformable Citizen THe modest front of this small floor Beleeve me Reader can say more Then many a braver Marble can Here lies a truly honest man One whose Conscience was a thing That troubled neither Church nor King One of those few that in this Town Honour all Preachers hear their own Sermons he heard yet not so many As left no time to practise any He heard them reverendly and then His practice preach'd them o'r agen His Parlour-Sermons rather were Those to the Eye then to the Ear. His Prayers took their price and strength Not from the loudness nor the length He was a Protestant at home Not onely in despight of Rome He lov'd his Father yet his Zeal Tore not off his Mothers Veil To th' Church he did allow her Dress True Beauty to true Holiness Peace which he lov'd in life did lend Her hand to bring him to his end When Age and Death call'd for the score No surfets were to reckon for Death tore not therefore but fans strife Gently untwin'd his thread of Life What remains then but that Thou Write these Lines Reader in thy Brow And by his fair Examples light Burn in thy imitation bright So while these Lines can but bequeath A Life perhaps unto his Death His better Epitaph shall be His Life still kept alive in Thee Out of Catullus COme and let us Live my Dear Let us Love and never Fear What the sowrest Fathers say Brightest Sol that dyes to day Lives again as blith to morrow But if we dark Sons of sorrow Set O then how long a Night Shuts the Eyes of our short Light Then let amorous Kisses dwell On our Lips begin and tell A Thousand and a Hundred score An Hundred and a Thousand more Till another Thousand smother That and that wipe of another Thus at last when we have numbred Many a Thousand many a Hundred We 'l confound the reckoning quite And lose our selves in wild delight While our joyes so multiply As shall mock the envious Eye Wishes to his supposed Mistress WHo e're she be That not impossible she That shall Command my Heart and me
nothing else but empty Me Narrow and low and infinitely less Then this great Mornings mighty business One little World or two Alas will never do We must have store Go Soul out of thy self and seek for More Go and request Great Nature for the Key of her huge Chest Of Heav'ns the self-involving Set of Sphears Which dull Mortality more feels then hears Then rouse the nest Of nimble Art and traverse round The Airy shop of Soul-appeasing sound And beat a summons in the same All-Soveraign Name To warn each several kind And shape of sweetness be they such As sigh with supple wind Or answer Artful touch That they convene and come away To wait at the Love-Crowned Doors of that Illustrious Day Shall we dare this my Soul we 'l do 't and bring No other Note for 't but the Name we sing Wake Lute and Harp And every sweet-lipp'd thing That talks with Tuneful string Start into life and leap with me Into a hasty fit-tun'd harmony Nor must you think it much T' obey my bolder touch I have authority in Love's Name to take you And to the work of Love this morning wake you Wake in the Name Of Him who never sleeps all things that are Or what 's the same Are Musical Answer my Call And come along Help me to meditate mine immortal Song Come ye soft Ministers of sweet sad mirth Bring all your Houshold-stuff of Heav'n on Earth O you my Soulâ—…s most certain Wings Complaining Pipes and pratling strings Bring all the store Of Sweets you have and murmur that you have no more Come ne'r to part Nature and Art Come and come strong To the conspiracy of our spacious song Bring all the Pow'rs of Praise Your Provinces of well-united Worlds can raise Bring all your Lutes and Harps of Heav'n and Earth What e'r cooperates to the common mirth Vessels of vocal joys Or you more Noble Architects of intellectual noise Cymballs of Heav'n or Humane sphears Solliciters of Souls or Ears And when you are come with all That you can bring or we can call O may you fix For ever here and mix Your selves into the long And everlasting series of a deathless Song Mix all your many Worlds above And loose them into One of Love Chear thee my Heart For thou too hast thy part And place in the great Throng Of this unbounded all-imbracing Song Pow'rs of my Soul be proud And speak loud To all the dear-bought Nations this Redeeming Name And in the wealth of one rich Word proclaim New Similes to Nature May it be no wrong Blest Heav'ns to you and your Superior song That we dark Sons of Dust and Sorrow A while dare borrow The name of your Delights and our Desires And fit it to so farr inferior Lyres Our Murmurs have their Musick too Ye Mighty Orbs as well as you Nor yields the Noblest nest Of warbling Seraphim to the ears of Love A choicer Lesson then the joyful Brest Of a poor panting Turtle-Dove And we low Worms have leave to do The same bright business ye third Heav'ns with you Gentle Spirits do not complain We will have care To keep it fair And send it back to you again Come lovely Name appear from forth the bright Regions of peaceful Light Look from thine own illustrious home Fair King of Names and come Leave all thy Native Glories in their gorgeous Nest And give thy self a while the gracious Guest Of humble Souls that seek to find The hidden Sweets Which man's heart meets When thou art Master of the Mind Come Lovely Name life of our hope Lo we hold our Hearts wide ope Unlock thy Cabinet of Day Dearest Sweet and come away Lo how the thirsty Lands Gasp for thy golden showrs with long stretch't hands Lo how the laboring Earth That hopes to be All Heaven by Thee Leaps at thy Birth Th' attending World to wait thy Rise First turn'd to Eyes And then not knowing what to do Turn'd them to Tears and spent them too Come Royal Name and pay th' expence Of all this precious patience O come away And kill the Death of this Delay O see so many Worlds of barren years Melted and Measur'd out in Seas of Tears O see the weary Lids of wakeful Hope Love's Eastern windows all wide ope With Curtains drawn To catch the Day-break of thy Dawn O dawn at last long-look't for day Take thine own wings and come away Lo where aloft it comes It comes among The conduct of adoring Spirits that throng Like diligent Bees and swarm about it O they are wise And know what Sweets are suck't from out it It is the Hive By which they thrive Where all their hoard of Honey lies Lo where it comes upon the snowy Doves Soft back and brings a bosome big with Loves Welcome to our dark World thou Womb of Day Unfold thy fair Conceptions and display The Birth of our bright joys O thou compacted Body of Blessings Spirit of Souls extracted O dissipate thy spicy Powr's Cloud of condensed sweets and break upon us In balmy showrs O fill our senses and take from us All force of so prophane a Fallacy To think ought sweet but that which smells of thee Fair Flowry Name in none but thee And thy Nectareal fragrancy Hourly there meets An universal Synod of all Sweets By whom it is defined Thus That no Perfume For ever shall presume To pass for oderiferous But such alone whose sacred Pedigree Can prove it self some kin sweet name to Thee Sweet Name in thy each Syllable A thousand Blest Arabias dwell A Thousand Hills of Frankincense Mountains of myrrh and Beds of Spices And Ten thousand Paradises The Soul that tasts thee takes from thence How many unknown Worlds there are Of Comforts which thou hast in keeping How many thousand Mercies there In Pity 's soft Lap lie a sleeping Happy he who has the Art To awake them And to take them Home and lodge them in his Heart O that it were as it was wont to be When thy old friends of fire all full of thee Fought against frowns with smiles gave Glorious chase To persecutions and against the Face Of Death and fiercest dangers durst with brave And sober pace march on to meet a Grave On their bold Brests about the World they bore thee And to the Teeth of Hell stood up to teach thee In Center of their inmost souls they wore thee Where Racks and Torments striv'd in vain to reach thee Little alas thought they Who tore the fair Brests of thy Friends Their Fury but made way For thee and serv'd them in thy Glorious ends What did their weapons but with wider pores Inlarge thy flaming brested Lovers More freely to transpire That impatient fire The heart that hides thee hardly covers What did their weapons but set wide the doors I or thee fair purple Doors of Love's devising The Ruby windows which inrich't the East Of thy so oft repeated Rising Each wound of theirs was thy new