heart My glowing heart to these imperious fires No earthly sorrow but at length expires But these my Tyrant-torments doe extend To infinites nor having ease nor end Loe I the Pris'ner of the highest God Inthâ—ailed to the vengeance of his Rod Lie bound in fetters that I cannot flie Nor yet endure his deadly stroakes nor die My joyes are turn'd to sorrows backt with feares And I poore I lie pickled up in teares ELEG 14. O! How unsufferable is the waight Of sinne How miserable is their state The silence of whose secret sinne conceales The smart till Iustice to Revenge appeales How ponderous are my crimes whose ample scroul Weighs downe the pillars of my broken Soule Their sowre masqu'd with sweetnes overswai'd me And with their smiling kisses they betrai'd me Betraid me to my Foes and what is worse Betraid me to my selfe and heavens curse Betraid my soule to an eternall griefe Devoid of hope for e're to finde reliefe ELEG 15. PErplext with change of woes where ere I turne My fainting eyes they finde fresh cause to mourne My griefes move like the Planets which appeare Chang'd from their places coÌ„stant to their sphaere Behold the earth-confounding arme of Heaven Hath cow'd my valiant Captaines and hath driven Their scattered forces up and downe the street Like worried sheepe afraid of all they meet My younger men the seede of propagation Exile hath driven from my divided Nation My tender Virgins have not scap'd their rage Which neither had respect to youth nor age ELEG 16. QVicke change of torments equall to those crimes Which past unthought-of in my prosp'rous times From hence proceed my griefes ah me from hence My Spring-tyde sorrowes have their influence For these my soulâ— dissolves my eyes lament Spending chose teares whose store wil ne're be speÌ„t For these my fainting spirits droepe and melt In anguish such as never Mortall felt Within the selfe-same flames I freeze and frie I roare for helpe and yet no helpe is nigh My sons are lost whose fortunes would relieve me And onely such triumph that hourely grieve me ELEG 17. REnt from the glory of her lost renowne Sion laments Her lips her lips o'reflowne With floods of teares she prompteth how to breake New languages instructs her tongue to speake Elegious Dialects She lowly bends Her dusty knees upon the earth extends Her brawnlesse armes to them whose ruthlesse eyes Are red with laughing at her miseries Naked she lies deform'd and circumvented With troopes of feares unpitied unlamented A loathsome draine for filth despis'd forlorne The scorne of Nations and the childe of scorne ELEG 18. SOwre wages issue from the sweets of sin Heavens hand is just this trecherous heart hath bin The author of my woes 'T is I alone My sorrowes reap what my foule sins have sowne Often they cry'de to heaven e're heaven reply'd And vengeance ne're had come had they ne'r cride All you that passe vouchsafe your gracious eares To heare these cries your eyes to view these tears They are no heat-drops of an angry heart Or childish passions of an idle smart But they are Rivers springing from an eye Whose streams no joy can stop no griefe draw drie ELEG 19. TVrne where I list new cause of woe presents My poore distracted soule with new laments Where shall I turne shall I implore my friends Ah summer friendship with the Summer ends In vaine to them my groanes in vaine my teares For harvest friends can finde no winter eares Or shall I call my sacred Priests for aid Alas my pined Priests are all betraid To Death and Famine in the streets they cryed For bread whilst they sought for bread they died Vengeance could never strike so hard a blow As when she sends an unlamented woe ELEG 20. VOuchsafe great God to turne thy tender eyes On me poore wretch Oh let my midnight cries That never cease if never stopt with teares Procure audience from thy gracious eares Behold thy creature made by change of griefe The barest wretch that ever beg'd reliefe See see my soule is tortur'd on thy rack My bowels tremble and my heart-strings crack Abroad the sword with open ruine frights me At home the secret hand of Famine smites me Strange fires of griefe How is my soule opprest That findes abroad no peace at home no rest ELEG 21. WHere where art thou O sacred Lambe of peace That promis'd to the heavie laden ease Thee thee alone my often bended knee Invokes that haue no other helpe but thee My foes amazed at my hoarse complaining Scoffe at my oft repeated cries disdaining To lend their prosp'rous hand they hisse and smile Taking a pleasure to behold my spoile Their hands delight to bruize my broken reeds And still persist to prick that heart that bleeds But there 's a Day if Prophets can divine Shal scourge their sins as they have scourged mine ELEG 22. YOu noy some weeds that lift your crests so high When better plants for want of moysture die Thinke you to flourish ever and unspide To shoot the flowers of your fruitlesse pride If plants be cropt because their fruits are small Thinke you to thrive that beare no fruit at all Looke downe great God from their places teare These weeds that suck the juice shold make us bear Vndew'd with showers let them see no Sun But feel those frosts that thy poor plaÌ„ts have done O clense thy Garden that the world may know Wee are the seeds that thy right hand did sow Threnodia II. ELEG 1. ALas my torments my distracted feares Have no commerce with reasonable teares How hath Heavens absence darkned the renowne Of Sions glory with one angry frowne How hath th' Almighty clouded those bright beams And chang'd her beauties streamers into streames Sion the glory of whose refulgent Fame Gave earnest of an everlasting name Is now become an indigested Masse And ruine is where that brave glory was How hath heaven strucke her earth-admired name From th' height of honour to the depth of shame ELEG 2. BEautie nor strength of building could entice Or force revenge from her just enterprise Mercy hath stopt her eares and Iustice hath Powr'd out full vialls of her kindled wrath Impatient of delay she hath strucke downe The pride of Sion kickt off Iuda's Crowne Her streets unpeopled and disperst her powres And with the ground hath levell'd her high towres Her priests are slaine her captiv'd Princes are Vnransom'd pris'ners Slaves her men of warre Nothing remaines of all her wonted glory But sad memorialls of her tragicke story ELEG 3. COnfused horror and confounding shame Have blur'd the beauty and renowned name Of righteous Israel Israels fruitfull land Entail'd by Heaven with the usurping hand Of uncontroled Gentiles is laid waste And with the spoile so ruine is defac't The angry mouth of Iustice blowes the fires Of hasty vengeance whose quicke flame aspires With fury to that place which heaven did sever For Iacob and his holy seed for ever No part no
at length So mortals die and being dead ne're minde The fairest fortunes that they leave behinde While man is man untill that death bereave him Of his last breath his griefes shal never leave him Meditat. 10. DOth Hist'ry then and sage Chronologiâ— The Index pointing to Antiquity So firmly grounded on deepe Iudgement guarded And kept by so much Miracle rewarded With so great glory serve but as slight Fables To edge the dulnesse of mens wanton Tables And claw their itching eares Or doe they rather Like a conciâ—e Abridgement serve to gather Mans high Adventures and his transitory Atchievements to expresse his Makers glory Acts that have blown the lowdest Trumpe of Fame Are all but humours purchas 't in His name Is he that yesterday went forth to bring His Fathers Asses home to day crown'd King Did hee that now on his brave Palace stood Boasting his Babels beauty chew the cud An hower after Have not Babes beene crown'd And mighty Monarchs beaten to the ground Man undertakes heaven breathes successe upon it What good what evill is done but heaveÌ„ hath done it The Man to whom thâ— world was not asham'd To yeeld her Colours he that was proclam'd A God in humane shape whose dreadfull voyce Did strike men dead like Thunder at the noyse Was rent away from his Imperiall Throne Before his flowre of youth was fully blowne His race was rooted out his Issue slaine And left his Empire to another straine Who that did e're behold the ancient Rome Would rashly given her glory such a doome Or thought her subject to such alterations That was the Mistresse and the Queen of Nations Egypt that in her wals had once engrost More Wisdome than the world besides hath lost Her senses now Her wisest men of State Are turn'd like Puppets to be pointed at If Romes great power and Egypts wisdome can Not ayde themselves how poore a thing is Man God plaies with Kingdomes as with Tennis-balls Fells some that rise and raises some that fals Nor policy can prevent nor secret Fate Where Heaven hath pleas'd to blow upon a State If States be not secure nor Kingdomes than How helpelesse Ah! how poore a thing is Man Man 's like a flower the while he hath to last Hee 's nipt with frost and shooke with every blast Hee 's borne in sorrow and brought up in teares He lives a while in sinne and dyes in feares Lord I 'le not boast what e're thou give unto me Lest e're my brag be done thou take it from me No man may boast but of his owne I can Then boast of nothing for I am a Man THE ARGVMENT Rash Eliphaz doth aggravate The sinnes of Iob malign's his flâ—te Whom Iob reproving justifies Himselfe bewailes his miseries Sect. 11. DOth vaine repining Eliphaz replies Or words like wind beseeme the man that 's wise Ahsure thy faithlesse heart rejects the feare Of heaven dost not acquaint thy lips with pray'r Thy words accuse thy heart of Impudence Thy tongue not I brings in the Evidence Art thou the first of men Doe Mysteries Vnfold to thee Art thou the onely wise Wherein hath Wisdome beene more good to you Then us What know you that we never knew Reverence not Censure fits a young mans eyes We are your Ancients and should be as wise It't not enough your Arrogance derides Our counsels but must scorne thy God besides Angels if God in quier strictly must Not pleade Perfection then can man be just It is a truth receiv'd these aged eyes Have seen 't and is confirmed by the wise That still the wicked man is void of rest Is alwayes fearefull falls when he feares least In trouble he despaires and is dejected He begs his bread his death comes unexpected In his adversity his griefes shall gaule him And like a raging Tyrant shall in thâ—all him He shall advance against his God in vaine For Heaven shall crush beate him downe againe What iâ— his Garners thrive and goods increase They shall not prosper nor he live in peace Eternall horrour shall begâ—â—t him round And vengeance shall both him and his confound Amidst his joyes despaire shall stop his breath His sons shall perish with untimely death The double soule shall die and in the hollow Of all false hearts falâ—e hearts theÌ„selves shall swallow Then answered Iob All this before I knew They want no griefe that finde such friends as you Ah cease your words the fruits of ill spent houres If heaven should please to make my fortunes yours I would not scoffe you nor with taunts torment ye My lips should comfort and these eyes lament ye What shall I doe speake not my griefes oppresse My soule or speake alas they 'r ne're thelesse Lord I am wasted and my pangs have spent me My skin is wrinkâ—ed for thy hand hath rent me Mine enemies have smit me in disdaine Laught at my torments jested at my paine I swell'd in wealth but now alas am poore And feld with woe lye groveling on the floore In dust and sackcloth I lament my sorrowes Thy Hand hath trencht my cheekes with water furrowes Nor can I comprehend the cause that this My smart should be so grievous as it is Oh earth if then an Hypocrite I be Cover my cryes as I doe cover thee And witnesse Heaven that these my Vowes be truâ— Ah friends I spend my teares to Heav'n not you My time 's but short alas would then that I Might try my cause with God before I dye Since then I languish and not farre from dead â—et me a while with my Accusers plead Before the Iudge of heaven and earth my right Have they not wrong'd and vext me day night Who first layes downe his Gage to meet me Say I doubt not Heaven being Iudge to win the day You 'll say perchance wee 'll recompell your word E're simple truth should unawares afford Your discontent No no forbeare for I Hate lesse your Censures then your flattery I am become a By-word and a Tabor To set the tongues and eares of men in labour Mine eyes are dimme my body 's but a shade Good men that see my case will be afraid But not confounded They will hold their way And in a bad they 'll hope a better day Recant your errours for I cannot see One man that 's truly wise among you Three My dayes are gone my thoughts are mis-possest The silent night that heaven ordain'd for rest My day of travell is but I shall have E're long long peace within my welcome grave My neerest kinred are the wormes the earth My mother for she gave me first my birth Where are my hopes then where that future joy Which you fals-prophecy'd I should enjoy Both hopes and I alike shall travell thither Where clos'd in dust we shall remaine together Meditat. 11. THe Morall Poets nor unaptly faine That by lame Vulcans help the pregnant brain Of soveraigne â—ove brought forth and at that birth Was borne Minerva Lady of the earth
But thy Bulwarkes aid cannot withstand The direfull stroake of the Almighties hand Thy Wafer-walls at dread Iehovahs blast Shall quake and quiver and shall downe 〈◊〉 Thy watchfull Towers shall asleepe be found And nod their drowsie heads downe to the ground Thy Bulwarks are not Vengeance-proofe thy Wall When Iustice brandisheth her Sword must fall Thy lofty Towers shall be dumbe and yeeld To high Revenge Revenge must win the field Vengeance cryes loud from heaven she cannot stay Her Fury but impatient of delay Hath brimm'd her 〈◊〉 full of deadly Bâ—ne Thy Palâ—ce shall be burnt thy People slaine Thy Heart is hard as Flint and swolne with pride Thy murth'rous Hands with guitlesse blood are dy'd Thy silly Babes doe starve for want of Food Whose tender Mothers thou hast drencht in Blood Women with childe lye in the streets about Whose Braines thy savage hands have dashed out Distressed Widowes weepe but weepe in vaine For their deare Husbands whom thy hands have slaine By one mans Force another man 's devour'd Thy Wives are ravisht and thy Maids deflowr'd Where Iustice should there Tort Bribes are plac't Thy ' Altars defil'd and holy things defac't Thy Lips have tasted of proud Babels Cup What thou hast left thy Children have drunke up Thy bloody sinnes thine Abels guiltlesse blood Cryes up to heaven for Vengeance cryes aloud Thy sinnes are seire and ready for the fire Heere rouze my Muse and for a space respire TO THE MOST HIGH HIS HVMBLE SERVANT IMPLORES HIS FAVOVrable Assistance O All sufficient God great Lord of Light Without whose gracious ayd constant sprite No labours prosper howsoe're begun But flye like Mists before the morning Sun O raise my thoughts and cleare my Apprehension Infuse thy Spirit into my weake invention Reflect thy Beames upon my feeble Eyes Shew me the Mirrour of thy Mysteries My Art-lesse Hand my humble Heart inspire Inflame my frozen tongue with holy fire Ravish my stupid Senses with thy Glory Sweeten my Lips with sacred Oratory And thou O FIRST and LAST assist my Quill That first and last I may performe thy will My sole intent's to blazon forth thy Praise My ruder Pen expects no crowne of Bayes Suffice it then Thine Altar I have kist Crowne me with Glory Take the Bayes that list A FEAST FOR VVORMES By Fra Quarles LONDON Printed for IOHN MARRIOT 1633. A FEAST FOR WORMES THE ARGVMENT The word of God to Ionahâ—â—me â—â—me Commanded Ionah to proâ—lame The â—engeance of his Mâ—jestie Against the sinnes of 〈◊〉 Sect. 1. TH' Eternall Word of God whose high Decree Admits no change and cannot frustrate be Came downe to Ionah from the heavens above Came downe to * Ionah heavens anointed Dove Ionah the flowre of old 〈◊〉 youth Ionah the Prophet Sonne and Heire to Truth The blessed Type of him that ransom'd us That Word came to him and bespake him thus Arise trusse up thy loynes make all thingâ— meet And put thy Sandals on thy hasty feet Gird up thy reynes and take thy staffe in hand Make no delay but goe where I command Me pleases not to send thee Ionah downe To sweet Gath-Hepher thy deare native Towne Whos 's tender paps with plenty overflow Nor yet unto thy brethren shalt thou goe Amongst the Hebrewes where thy sprâ—dden fame Fore-runnes the welcome of thine honor'd name No I 'le not send thee thither Vp arise And goe to Niniveh where no Allies Nor consanguinity preseâ—ves thy blood To Niâ—iveh where strangers are withstood To Niniveh a City farre remov'd From thine acquaintance where th' art not belov'd I send thee to Mount Sinay not Mount Sion Not to a gentle Lambe but to a Lion Nor yet to Lydia but to bloody Pashur Not to the Land of Canaan but of Ashur Whose language will be riddles to thine eares And thine againe will be as strange to thâ—irs Isay to Niniveh the worlds great Hall The Monarchs seat high Court Imperiall But terrible Mount Sinayâ—ill â—ill affright thee And Pashurs heavy hand is bent to smite thee The Lions rore the people'â— strong and stout The Bulwarkes stand a front to keepe thee out Great Ashur minaces with whip in hand To entertaine thee welcome to his land What then Arise be gone stay not to thinke Bad is the cloth that will in wetting shrinke What then if cruell Pashur heape on stroakes Or Sinay blast thee with her sulph'rous smokes Or Ashur whip thee Or the Lions rent thee Pâ—sh on with courage I the Lord have sent thee Away away lay by thy foolish pity Aâ—d goe to Niniveh that mighty City Cry loud against it let thy dreadfull voice Make all the City eccho with the noise Not like a Dove but like a Dragon goe Pronounce my judgement and denounce my Woe Make not thy bed a fountaine â—all of teares â—o weepe in secret for her sinnes Thine eares Sâ—all heare such things will make thine eyes run over â—hine eyes shall smart with what they shall discover Spend not in private those thy zealous drops But hew and backe spare neither trunke nor lâ—ps Make heaven and earth rebound when thou discharges Plead not like Paul but roare like Boanarges Nor let the beauty of the buildings bleare thee Let not the terrors of the Rampiers feare thee Let no man bribe thy fist I well advise thee Nor foule meanes force thee nor let faire entice thee Ramme up thine eares Thy heart of stone shall be Be deafe to them as they are deafe to me Goe cry against it If they aske thee why Say heavens great Lord commanded thee to cry My Altars cease to smoke their holy fires Are quencht and where praiers should their sin aspires The fatnesse of their fornication fryes On coales of ragiâ—g lâ—st and upward flies And makes me seek I heare the mournefull groâ—es And heavy sighes of such whose aking bones Th' oppressor grindes Alas their griefes implore me Their pray'rs prefer'd with teares plead lowd before 〈◊〉 Behold my sonnes they have opprest and kill'd And bath'd their hands within the blood they spill'd The steame of guiltlesse blood makes suit unto me The voâ—â—e of many bloods is mounted to me The vile prophaner of my sacred Names He teares my titles and my honour maimâ—s Makes Rhet'rick of an oath sweares and forsweares Recks not my Mercy nor my Iudgement feares They eatâ— they drinke they sleepe they tire the â—igh◠〈…〉 â—alliance and uncleane delight Heavens winged Herald Ionaâ— up and goe To mighty Niniveh Denounce my woe Advance thy voice and when thou hast advanâ—â—â— it Spare Shrub nor Cedar but cry out against it Hold out thy Trumpet and with louder breath Proclame my sudden comming and their death The Authors Apology IT was my morning Muse A Muse whose spirit Transcendâ— I feare the fortunes of her merit Too bold a Muse whose fethers yet in blood She never bath'd in the Pyrenean Flood A Muse unbreath'd unlikely to attaine An easie honour by so stout a Traine Expect no lofty Hagard that
the grounds and how unstable How many Deities yet how unable Implore these gods that list to howle and barke They bow to Dagon Dagon to the Arke But hee to whom the seale of mercy 's given Adores Iehovah the Great God of Heaven Vpon the mention of whose sacred Name Meeke Lambs grow fierce the fierce Lions tame Bright Sol shall stop heaven shal turn his course Mountains shall dance and Neptune slake his force The Seas shall part the fire want his flame Vpon the mention of Iâ—hovah's Name A Name that makes the roofe of Heaven to shake The frame of Earth to quiver Hell to quake A Name to which all Angels blow their Trumps A Name puts frolicke man into his dumps Though ne're so blythe A Name of high renown It mounts the meeke and beats the loftie downe A Name divides the marrow in the bone A Name which out of hard and flintiâ— stone Extracteth hearts of flesh and makes relent Those hearts that never knew what mercy ment O Lord how great 's thy Name in all the Land How mighty are the wonders of thy hand How is thy glory plac't above the heaven To tender mouthes of Sucklings thou hast given Coercive pow'r and boldnesse to reproove When elder men doe what them not behoove O Lord how great 's the power of thine hand O God! how great 's thy Name in all the Land THE ARGVMENT The Prophet doth his fault discover Perswadeâ— the men to cast him over They row and toyle but doe no good They pray to be excus'd from blood Sect. 5. SO Ionah fram'd this speech to their demand Not that I seeke to traverse the command Of my deare Lord and out of minde perverse T' avoid the Ninivites doe I amerâ—e My selfe Nor that I ever heard you threat Vnlesse I went to Niniveh the great And doe the message sent her from the Lord That you would kill or cast me over-boord Doe I doe thiâ— 'T is my deserved fine You all are guiltlesse and the fault is mine T is I ' tâ—â— I alone 't is I am he The tempest comes from heaven the cause from me You shall not lose a haire â—or this my sâ—â— Nor perish for the fault that mine hath bin Lo I the man am here Lâ— I am he The root of all End your revenâ—e on me I fled th' Eternall God O let me then Because I fled my God so flie from men Redeeme your lives with mine Ah why should I Not guiltlesse live and you not guilty die I am the man for whom these billowes dance My death shall purchase your deliverance Feare not to cease your feares but throw me in Alas my soule is burthen'd with my sin And God is just and bent to his Decree Which certaine is and cannot alter'd be I am proclaim'd a Traitor to the King Of heaven an earth The windes with speedy wing Acquaint the Seas The Seas mount up on high And cannot rest untill the Traytor die Oh cast me in and let my life be ended Let Death make Iustice mends which Life offended Oh let the swellinâ— waters me enbalme So shall the Waves be still and Sea be calme So said th' amazed Mariners grew sad New Love abstracted what old Feare did adde Love called Pity Feare call'd vengeance in Love view'd the Sinner Feare beheld the Sin Love cry'd out Hold for better sav'd than spil'd But Feare cry'd Kill O better kill than kill'd Thus plung'd with Passions they distracted were Betwixt the hopes and doubts of Love and Feare Some cry'd out Save if this foule deed we doe Vengeance that haunted him will haunt us too Others cry'd No May rather death befall To one that hath deserv'd to dye then all Save him sayes one Oh save the man that thus His dearest blood hath profer'd to save us No sayes another vengeance must have blood And vengeance strikes most hard when most withstood In fine say all Then let the Prophet die And we shall live For Prophets cannot lye Loth to be guilty of their owne yet loth To haste poore Ionahs death with hope that both Th' approching evils might be at once prevented With prayers and paines reutter'd reattented They try'd new wayes despairing of the old Love quickens courage makes the spirits bold They strove in vaine by toile to win the shore And wrought more hard than erâ—e they did before But now both hands and hearts begin to quaile For bodies wanting rest must faint and faile The Seas are angry and the waves arise Appeas'd with nothing but a Sacrifice Gods vengeance stormeth like the raging Seas Which nought but Ionah dying can appease Fond is that labour which attempts to free What Heaven hath bound by a divine decree Ionah must die Heaven hath decreed it so Ionah must die or else they all die too Ionah must die that from his Lord did flie The Lott determines Ionah then must die His guilty word confirmes the sacred Lott Ionah must die then if they perish not If Iustice then appoint since he must die Said they us Actors of â—is Tragedy We beg not Lord a warrant to offend O pardon blood-shed that we must intend Though not our hands yet shall our hearts be cleare Then let not stainlesse consciences beare The pond'rous burden of a Murders guilt Or pay the price of blood that must be spilt For 〈◊〉 deare Lord it is thine owne decree And we sad ministers of Iustice be Meditat. 5. BVt stay a while this thing would first be known Can Ionah give himselfe and not his owne That part to God and to his Countrey this Pertaines so that a slender third is his Why then should Ionah doe a double wrong To deale himselfe away that did belong The least unto himselfe or how could hee Teach this Thou shalt not kill if Ionah be His life 's owne Butcher What was this a deed That with the Calling he profest agreed The purblinde age whose workes almost divine Did meerely with the oyle of Nature shine That knew no written Law nor Grace nor God To whip their conscience with a steely rod How much did they abhorre so foule a fact When led by Natures glimpse they made an act Selfe-murderers should be deny'd to have The charitable honour of a Grave Can such doe so when Ionah does amisse What Ionas Isr'els Teacher and doe this The Law of Charity doth all forbid In this thing to doe that which Ionah did Moreo're in charity 't is thy behest Of dying men to thinke and speake the best The mighty Samson did as much as this And who dare say that Samson did amisse If heavens high Spirit whisper'd in his eare Expresse command to doe 't No wavering feare Drew backe the righteous Abram's armed hand From Isaacks death secur'd by heavens command ¶ Sure is the knot that true Religion tyes And Love that 's rightly grounded never dyes It seemes a paradoxe beyond beliefe That men in trouble should prolong reliefe That Pagans to withstand a
Can render to a dying man his health Our life on earth is like a thred of flax That all may touch and being roucht it craks ¶ As when an Archer shooteth for his sport Sometimes his shaft is gone sometimes 't is short Somtimes o' th left haÌ„d wide sometimes o' th right At last through often tryall hits the White So death sometimes with her uncertaine Rover Hits our Superiours and so shoots over Sometimes for change shee strikes the meaner sort Strikes our Inferiours and then comes short Sometimes upon the left hand wide shee goes And so still wounding some shee strikes our foes And sometimes wide upon the right hand bends There with Imperiall shafts she strikes our friends At length through often triall hits the White And so strikes us into Eternall night ¶ Death is a Kalender compos'd by Fate Concerning all men never out of Date Her dayes Dominicall are writ in blood She shewes more bad daies than she sheweth good She tels when dayes monthes termes expire Meas'ring the lives of mortals by her squire ¶ Death is a Pursivant with Eagles wings That knocks at poore mens door gates of Kings Worldling beware betime death sculks behind thee And as she leaves thee so will Iudgement find thee THE ARGVMENT Within the bowels of the Fish Ionah laments in great anguish God heard his pray'r at whose command The Fish disgorg'd him on the Land Sect 7. THen Ionah turn'd his face to heav'n and pray'd Within the bowels of the Whale and said I cry'd out of my balefull misery Vnto my God and he hath heard my cry From out the paunch of hell I made a noyse And thou hast answer'd me and heard my voyce Into the Deeps and bottome thou hast throwne me Thy Surges and thy Waves have past upon me Then Lord aid I from thy refulgent sight I am expell'd I am forsaken quite Nay'thelesse while these my wretched eyes remaine Vnto thy Temple will I looke againe The boystrous Waters compast me about My body threats to let her pris'ner out The boundlesse depth enclosed me almost dead The weeds are wrapt about my fainting head I liv'd on earth rejected at thine hand And a perpetuall pris'ner in the Land Yet thou wilt cause my life t' ascend at length From out this pit O Lord my God my Strength When as my soule was over-whelm'd and faint I had recourse to thee did thee acquaint With the condition of my woefull case My cry came to thee in thine holy Place Who so to Vanities themselves betake Renounce thy mercies and thy love for sake To thee I 'le sacrifice in endlesse dayes With voyce of thankes and ever-sounding praise I 'le pay my vowes for all the world records With one consent Salvation is the Lords But he whose word 's a deed whose breath 's a law Whose just command implies a dreadfull awe Whose Word prepar'd a Whale upon the Deepe To tend and wait for Ionah's fall and keepe His out-cast body safe and soule secure This very God whose mercy must endure When heaven earth when sea all things faile Disclos'd his purpose and bespake the Whale To redeliver Ionah to his hand Whereat the Whale disgorg'd him on the land Medita 7. I Well record a holy Father sayes He teaches to deny that faintly prayes The suit surceases when desire failes But whoso prayes with fervency prevailes For Prayr's the key that opes th' eternall gate And findes admittance whether earl ' or late It forces audience it unlockes the eare Of heavens great God though deafe it makes him heare Vpon a time Babel the worlds faire Queene Made drunk with choller and enrag'd with spleen Through fell disdaine derraigned war 'gainst them That tender homage to Ierusalem A maiden-fight it was yet they were strong As men of Warre The Battaile lasted long Much blood was shed an spilt on either side That all the ground with purple gore was dyde In fine a Souldier of Ierusalem Châ—â—â—ssa hight the Almner of the Realme Chill'd with an ague and unapt to fight Into Iustitia's Castle too her flight Whereat great Babets Queene commanded all To lay their siege against the Castle wall But poore Tymissa not with warr acquainted Fearing Charissa's death fell downe and fainted Dauntlesse Prudentia rear'd her from the ground Where she lay pale and senselesse in a swound She rub'd her temples and at length awaking She gave her water of Fidissa's making And said Cheare up deare sister though our foe Hath tane us Captives thus besieg'd with woe We have a King puissant and of might Will see us take no wrong and doe us right If we possesse him with our sad complaint Cheare up wee 'l send to him and him acquaint Tymissa new awak'd from swound replies Our Castle is begirt with enemies And troops of armed men besiege our walls Then suer Death or worse than death befalls To her who ere she be that stirs a foote Or rashly dares attempt to venture out Alas what hope have wee to finde reliefe And want the meanes that may divulge our griefe Within that place a jolly Matron dwell'd Whose lookes were fixt and sad her left hand held A paire of equall ballances her right A two-edg'd sword her eyes were quicke bright Not apt to squint but nimble to discerne Her visage lovely was yet bold and sterne â—â—r name Iustitia to her they make Their moane who well advis'd them thus bespake Faire Maidens more beloved then the light â—rue the suffrance of your wofull plight â—ut pitty's fond alone recures no griefe â—ut fruitlesse fals unlesse it yeeld reliefe Cheare up I have a Messenger in store Whose speed is much but faithfull trust is more Whose nimble wings shall cleave the flitting skies And scorne the terrour of your enemies â—ratio hight well knowne unto your King Your message she shall doe and tydings bring Provided that Fidissa travaile with her And so on Christs name let them goe together With that Fidissa having ta'ne her errant And good Oratio with Iustitia's Warrant In silence of the midnight tooke her flight Arriving at the Court that very night But they were both as flames of fier hot For they did fly as swift as Cannon shot But they left sudden cold should do them harme Together clung and kept each other warme But now the kingly gates were sparr'd and lockt They call'd but none made answer theÌ„ they knockt Together jâ—yning both their force in one They knockt againe Yet answer there was none But they that never learn'd to take deniall With importunity made further triall The King heard well although he list not speake Till they with strokes the gate did wel-nie breake In fine the brazen gates flew open wide Oratio moov'd her suit The King replide â—ratio was a faire and welcome guest So heard her suit so granted her request Fraile man observe In thee the practice lies Let sacred Meditation moralize Let Pray'r bee servent and thy Faith intire And
broght th'embassage But they gave faith to what he said relented And changing their mis-wandred wayes repented Before the searching Ayre could coole his word Their hearts returned and beleev'd the Lord And they whose dainty lips were cloy'd while ere With cates and viands and with wanton cheare Doe now enjoyne their palats not to tast The offall bread for they proclaim'd a Fast And they whose looset bodies once did lye Wrapt up in Robes and Silkes of Princely Dye Loe now in stead of Robes in rags they mourne And all their Silkes doe into Sack-cloth turne They read themselves sad Lectures on the ground Learning to want as well as to abound The Prince was not exempted nor the Peere Nor yet the richest nor the poorest there The old man was not freed whose hoary age Had ev'n almost outworne his Pilgrimage Nor yet the yong whose Glasse but new begun By course of Nature had an age to runne For when that fatall Word came to the King Convay'd with speed upon the nimble wing Of flitting Fame he straight dismounts his Throne Forsakes his Chaire of State he sate upon Disrob'd his body and his head discrown'd In dust and ashes grov'ling on the ground And when he rear'd his trembling corps againe His haire all filthy with the dust he laie in He clad in pensive Sackcloth did depose Himselfe from State Imperiall and chose To live a Vassall or a baser thing Then to usurpe the Scepter of a King Respectlesse of his pompe he quite forgate He was a Monarch mindlesse of his State He neither sought to rule or be obay'd Nor with the sword nor with the Scepter sway'd Meditat. 9. ¶ IS fasting then the thing that God requires Can fasting expiate or slake those fires That sinne hath blowne to such a mighty flame Can sackcloth cloth a fault or hide a shame Can ashes clense thy blot or purge thy ' offence Or doe thy hands make heaven a recompence By strowing dust upon thy bryny face Are these the trickes to purchase heavenly grace No though thou pine thy selfe with willing want Or face looke thinne or Carkas ne're so gaunt Although thou worser weeds then sackcloth weare Or naked goe or sleepe in shirts of haire Or though thou chuse an ash-tub for thy bed Or make a daily dunghill on thy head Thy labour is not poys'd with equall gaines For thou hast nought but labour for thy paines Such holy madnesse God rejects and loathes That sinkes no deeper than the skin or cloathes 'T is not thine eyes which taught to weepe by art Looke red with teares not guilty of thy hart 'T is not the holding of thy hands so hye Nor yet the purer squinting of thine eye 'T is not your mimick mouths your antick faces Your Scripture phrases or affected Graces Nor prodigall up-banding of thine eyes Whose gaâ—â—â—full bals doe seeme to pelt the skyes 'T is not the strict reforming of your haire So close that all the neighbour skull is bare 'T is not the drooping of thy head so low Nor yet the lowring of thy sullen brow Nor wolvish howling that disturbs the aire Nor repetitions or your tedious prayer No no 't is none of this that God regards Such sort of fooles their owne applause rewards Such puppet-plaies to heaven aâ—e strange quaint Their service is unsweet and foully taint Their words fall fruitlesse from their idle braine But true repentance runnes in other straine Where sad contrition harbours there the heart Is truly'acquainted with the secret smart Of past offences hates the bosome sin The most which most the soule tooke pleasure in No crime unsifted no sinne unpresented Can lurke unseene and seene none unlamented The troubled soule 's amaz'd with dire aspects Of lesser sinnes committed and detects The wounded Conscience it cryes amaine For mercy mercy cryes and cryes againe It sadly grieves and soberly laments It yernes for grace reformes returnes repents I this is incense whose accepted savour Mounts up the heavenly Throne findeth favour I this is it whose valour never failes With God it stoutly wrestles and prevailes I this is it that pearces heaven above Never returning home like Noab's Dove But brings an Olive leafe or some encrease That workes Salvation and Eternall Peace THE ARGVMENT The Prince and people fasts and prayes God heard accepted lik'd their wayes Vpon their timely true repentance God rever'st and chang'd his sentence Sect. 10. THen suddenly with holy zeale inflam'd He caus'd a generall Act to be proclaim'd By sage advice and counsell of his Peeres Let neither man or child of youth or yeares From greatest in the Citie to the least Nor Herd nor pining Flocke nor hungry beast Nor any thing that draweth ayre or breath On forfeiture of life or present death Presume to taste of nourishment or food Or move their hungry lips to chew the cud From out their eyes let Springs of water burst With teares or nothing let theÌ„ slake their thirst Moreo're let every man what e're he be Of higher quality or low degree D'off all they weare excepting but the same That nature craves that which covers shame Their nakednesse with sackcloth let them hide And mue the vest'ments of their silken pride And let the brave cariering Horse of Warre Whose rich Caparisons and Trappings are The glorious Wardrobe of a Victors show Let him disrobe and put on sackcloth too The Oxe ordain'd for yoke the Asse for load The Horse as well for race as for the roade The burthren-bearing Camell strong and great The fruitfull Kine and every kinde of Neate Let all put sackcloth on and spare no voyce But cry aloud to heaven with mighty noise Let all men turne the bias of their wayes And change their fiercer hands to force of praise For who can tell if God whose angry face Hath long bin waining from us will embrace This slender pittance of our best indeavour Who knowes if God will his intent persever Or who can tell if he whose tender love Transcends his sharper Iustice will remove And change his high decree turn his sentence Vpon a timely and unfain'd repentance And who can tell if heaven will change the lot That we and ours may live and perish not So God perceiv'd their workes saw their waies Approv'd the faith that in their workes did blaze Approv'd their works approv'd their workes the rather because their faith works weÌ„t both together He saw their faith because their faith abounded He saw their works because on faith they grounded He saw their faith their workes and so relented H'approv'd their works their faith so repented Repented of the plagues they apprehended Repented of the evill that he intended So God the vengeance of his hand withdrew He tooke no forfeiture although 't were due The evill that once hee meant he now forgot Cancell'd the forfeit bond and did it not Medita 10. ¶ SEe into what an ebbe of low estate The soule that seekes to be regenerate Must
heart and sucke thy blood Beware betimes lest custome and permission Prescribe a title and so claime possession ¶ Despairing man whose burthen makes thee stoop Vnder the terror of thy sinnes and droop Through dull despaire whose too too sullen griefe Makes heav'n unable to apply reliefe Whose eares are dull'd with noyse of whips and chaines And yels of damned soules through tort'red pains Come here and rouze thy selfe unâ—eele those eyes Which sad Despaire clos'd up Arise Arise And goe to Nineveh the worlds great Palace Earths mighty wonder and behold the Ballace And burthen of her bulke is nought but sin Which wilfull she commits and wallowes in Behold her Images her fornications Her crying sinnes her vile abominations Behold the guiltlesse blood that she did spill Like Spring-tides in the streets and reeking still Behold her scorching lusts and taint desier Like sulph'rous Aetna blaze and blaze up higher She rapes and rends and theeves there is none Can justly call the thing he hath his owne That sacred Name of God that Name of wonder In stead of worshipping she teares in sunder She 's not enthrall'd to this Sin or another But like a Leper's all infected over Not onely sinfull but in sinnes subjection Shee 's not infected but a meere infection No sooner had the Prophet Heav'ns great Spy Begun an onset to his lowder Cry But she repented sigh'd and wept and tore Her curious hayre and garments that she wore She sate in ashes and with Sack-cloth clad her All drencht in brine that griefe cannot be sadder She calls a Fast proclames a prohibition To man and beast sad tokens of contrition No sooner pray'd but heard No sooner groan'd But pittied No sooner griev'd but moan'd Timely Repentance speedy grace procur'd The sore that 's salvd in time is eas'ly cur'd No sooner had her trickling teares ore-flowne Her blubber'd cheeks but heav'n was apt to mone Her pensive heart wip'd her suffused eyes And gently strok'd her cheekes and bid her rise No faults were seene as if no fault had bin Deare Mercy made a Quittance for her sin ¶ Malfido rouze thy leaden spirit bestirre thee Hold up thy drouzy head here 's comfort for thee What if thy zeale be frozen hard What then Thy Saviours blood will thaw that frost agen Thy pray'rs that should be servent hot as fier Proceed but coldly from a dull desier What then Grieve inly But do not dismay Who heares thy pray'rs will give thee strength to pray Though left a while thou art not quite giv'n ore Where Sinne abounds there Grace abounâ—eth more This this is all the good that I can doe thee To ease thy griefe I here commend unto thee A little booke but a great Mystery A great delight A little History A little branch slipt from a saving tree But bearing fruit as great as great mought be A small abridgement of thy Lords great love A message sent from heaven by a Dove It is a heavenly Lecture that relates To Princes Pastors People all Estates Their sev'rall duties ¶ Peruse it well and binde it to thy brest The rests the Cause of thy defect of rest But read it often or else read it not Once read is not observ'd and soone forgot Nor is 't enough to read but understand Or else thy tongue for want of wit 's prophan'd Nor is 't enough to purchase knowledge by it Salve heales no sore unlesse the party ' apply it Apply it then which if thy flesh restraines Strive what thou canst pray for what remaines The particular Application ¶ THen thou that art opprest with sad Despaire Here shalt thou see the strong effect of pray'r Then pray with faith servent without ceasing Like Iacob wrestle till thou get a blessing ¶ Here shalt thou see the type of Christ thy Saviour Then let thy suits be through his name and favour ¶ Here shalt thou finde repentance and true griefe Of sinners like thy selfe and their beliefe Then suit thy griefe to theirs and let thy soule Cry mightily untill her wounds be whole ¶ Here shalt thou see the meeknesse of thy God Who on Repentance turnes and burnes the Rod Repents of what he purpos'd and is sorry Here may ye heare him stoutly pleading for ye Then thus shall be thy meed if thou repent In stead of plagues and direfull punishment Thou shalt find mercy love and Heav'ns applause And God of Heav'n himselfe will plead thy cause ¶ Here hast thou theÌ„ compil'd within this treasure First the Almighties high and just displeasure Against foule sinne or such as sinfull be Or Prince or poore or high or low degree ¶ Here is descri'd the beaten Road to Faith ¶ Here maist thou see the force that Preaching hath ¶ Here is describ'd in briefe but full expression The nature of a Convert and his passion His sober Dyet which is thin and spare His clothing which is Sack-cloth and his Prayre Not faintly sent to heaven nor spatingly But piercing â—ervent and a mighty cry ¶ Here maist thou see how Pray'r true repeÌ„tance Do strive with God prevaile and turn his sentence From strokes to stroking from plagues infernall To boundlesse Mercies and to life Eternall ¶ Till Zephyr lend my Barke a second Gale I slip mine Anchor and I strike my saile FINIS O dulcis Salvator Mundi ultima verba quae tu dixisti in Cruce sint ultima mea verba in Luce quando amplius effari non possum exaudi tu cordis mei desiderium A HYMNE to GOD. WHo gives me then an Adamantine quill A marble tablet And a Davids skill To blazon forth the praise of my deare Lord In deepe-grav'n Characters upon record To last for times etcâ—nall processe suer So long as Sunne and Moone and Starres endure Had I as many mouthes as Sands there are Had I a nimble tongue for every Starre And every word I speake a Character And every minutes time ten Ages were To chaunt forth all thy prayse it no'te availe For tongues words and time and all would faile Much lesse can I poore Weakling tune my tongue To take a taske befits an Angels song Sing what thou canst when thou canst sing no more Weepe then as fast that thou canst sing no more Beblurre thy booke with teares and go thy wayes For every blurre will prove a booke of prayse Thine eye that viewes the moving Spheares above Let it give praise to him that makes them move Thou riches hast Thy hands that hold have them Let them give praise to him that freely gave them Thine armes defend thee then for recompence Let them praise him that gave thee such defence Thy tongue was given to praise thy Lord the Giver Then let thy tongue praise highest God for ever Faith comes by hearing thy Faith will save thee TheÌ„ let thine cars prais him that hearing gave thee Thy bea rt is beg'd by him whose hands did make it My Sonne Give me thy Heart Lord freeâ—y take
gnaw Prometheus And let poore Ixion turne his endlesse wheele Let Nemesis torment with whips of steele They far come short t' expresse the paines of those That rage in Hell enwrapt in endlesse woes Where time no end and plaguâ—s finde no exemption Where cryes admit no helpe nor place redemption Where fier lacks no flame the flame no beat To make their torments sharpe and plagues compleaâ— Where wretched Soules to tortures bound shall beâ— Serving a world of yeares and not be Freâ— Where nothing's heard but yells and sudden cryes Where â—ier never flakes nor Worme e're dyes But where this Hell is plac'd my Muse stop there Lord shew me what it is but never where Mors tua 1. ¶ CAn he be faire that withers at a blast Or he be strong that ayery Breath can cast Can he be wise that knowes not how to live Or hee be rich that nothing hath to give Can he be young that 's feeble weake and wan So faire strong wise so rich so young is mâ—n So faire is Man that Death a parting Blast Blasts his faire flow'r and makes him Earth at last So strong is Man that with a gasping Breath Hee totters and bequeathes his strength to Deatâ— So wise is Man that if with Death he strive His wisedome cannot teach him how to live So rich is Man that all his Debts b'ing paid His wealth 's the winding-sheet wherein he 's laid So yong is Man that broke with care and sorrow He 's old enough to day to Dye to morrow Why brag'st thou theÌ„ thou worm of five-foot long Th' art neither faire nor strong nor wise nor rich nor 〈◊〉 Mors Christi 2. I Thurst and who shall quench this eager Thurst I grieve and with my griefe my heart will burst I grieve because I thurst without reliefe I thurst because my Soule is burnt with griefe I thurst and dry'd with griefe my heart will dye I grieve and thurst the more for Sorrow's dry The more I grieve the more my thurst appeares Would God I had not griev'd out all my teares I thurst and yet my griefes have made a Floud But teares are salt I grieve and thurst for blood I grieve for blood must send reliefe I thurst for blood for blood for blood must ease my griefe I thurst for sacred blood of a deare Lambe I grieve to thinke from whence that deare blood came 'T was shed for me O let me drinke my fill Although my griefe remaine entier still O soveraigne pow'r of that Vermilian Spring Whose vertue neither heart coÌ„ceives nor tongue can sing Fraus Mundi 3. I Love the World as Clients love the Lawes To manage the uprightnesse of my Cause The World loves me as Shepheards doe their flockes To rob and spoile them of their fleecy lockes I love the World and use it as mine Inne To bait and rest my tyred sarkeise in The World loves me For what To make her 〈◊〉 For filthy sinne she sels me timely shame She 's like the Basiliske by whose sharpe eyes The living object first discover'd dyes Forth from her eyes empoysoned beames do durâ—â— Dyes like a Basiliske discerned first We live at jarres as froward Gamesters doe Still guarding nor regarding others foe I love the World to serve my turne and leave her 'T is no deceit to coâ—zen a Deceiver She 'll not misse me I lesse the world shall misse To lose a world of griefe t' enjoy a world of Blâ—sse Gloria Coeli 4. EArth stands immov'd and fixt her situation Admits no locall change no alteration Heaven alway moves renewing still his place And ever sees us with another Face Earth standeth fixt yet there I live opprest Heaven alway mooves yet there is all my rest Enlarge thy selfe my Soule with meditation Mount there and there bespeake thy habitatioâ— Where joies are full pure not mixt with mourniâ—â— All endlesse and from which is no returning No theft no cruell murther harbours there No hoary-headed Care no sudden Feare No pinching want no griping-fast oppression Nor Death the stipend of our first transgression But dearest Friendship Love and lasting Plâ—â—sure Still there abides without or stint or measure Fulnesse of Riches comfâ—â—â—t sempeternall Excesse without a surfetting And Life Eternall Dolor Inferni 5. THe Trump shall blow the dead awak'd shal rise And to the Clouds shall turn their wondring eies The heav'ns shal ope the Bridegroom forth shal come To judge the World and give the World her doome Ioy to the Iust to others endlesse smart To those the Voyce bids Come to these Depart Depart from Life yet dying live for ever For ever dying be and yet Dye never Depart like Dogs with Devils take your lot Depart like Devils for I know you not Like Dogs like Devils goe Goe howle and barke Depart in darknesse for your deeds were darke Let râ—aring be your Musicke and your Food Be flesh of Vipers and your drinke their blood Let Fiends afflict you with Reproach and Shame Depart depart into Eternall Flame If Hell the Guerdon then of Sinners be Lord give me Hell on earth Lord give mee heav'n with thee vv vv Iam deâ—ine Tibia versus FINIS Hadassa Horat. Ode 6. â—onamur tenues grandia nec pudor â—mbellisque Lyrae Musapotens vetat By Fra. Quarles LONDON Printed for IOHN MARRIOT 1632. A PREFACE TO THE READER A Sober veine best suits Theologie If therefore thou expect'st such Elegancy as takes the times affect some subject as will beare it Had I laboured with over-abundaÌ„ce of fictions or flourishes perhaps they had exposed mee censurable and disprized this sacred subject Therefore I rest more sparing in that kinde Two things I would treate of First the matter secondly the manner of this History As for the matter so farre as I have dealt it is Canonicall and indited by the holy Spirit of God not lyable to errour and needs no blanching In it Theologie sits as Queene attended by her handmaid Philosophy both concurring to make the understanding Reader a good Divine and a wise Moralist As for the Divinitie it discovers the Almighty in his two great Attributes in his Mercy delivering his Church in his Iustice confounding her enemies As for the Morality it offers to us the whole practick part of Philosophy dealt 〈◊〉 into Ethicks Politicks and Oeconomickâ— 1. The Ethical part the object wherof is thâ— manners of a private man ranges throâ—â—â— the whole booke and empties it selfe 〈◊〉 the Catalogue of Morall vertues either thâ—â— that governe the body as Fortitude Châ—â— 9. 2. and Temperance Chap. 1. 8. or thoâ—â— which direct the soule either in outwaâ—â— things as Liberalitie Chap 1. 3. Magnifâ—cence Chap. 1. 6. Magnanimity Chap. 2. â— and Modesty Chap. 6. 12. or in conversatioâ— as Iustice Chap. 7. 9. Mansuetude Chap 5 c. 2. The Politicall part the object whereof publike Societie instructs first in the behaviour of a Prince to his Subject in punishâ—â— his vice Chap 7. 10. in rewarding of vertuâ—
attaine The rare discovery of so high a straine Dive to the depth of darknesse and the deepes Renounce this Wisdome The wide Ocean keepes Her not inclos'd 'T is not the purest Gold Can purchase it or heapes of silver told The Pearles and peerlesse Treasures of the East Refined Gold and Gemmes are all the least Of nothings if compar'd with it as which Earths masse of treasure summ'd is not so rich Where rests the wisedome then If men enquire Below they finde her not or if they higher Soare with the Prince of Fowles they stil despaire The more they seeke the further off they are Ah friends how more than men how Eagle-eyd Are you to see what to the world beside Was daâ—ke To you alone in trust was given To search into the high Decrees of Heaven You read his Oracles you understand To riddle forth mans fortunes by his hand Your wisedomes have a priviledge to know His secret Smiling from his angry Brow Let shame prevent your lips recant and give To the Almighty his prerogative To him the searching of mens hearts belong Mans judgement sinks no deeper than the tongue He overlookes the World and in one space Of time his Eye is fixt on every place He waighes the Waters ballances the Ayre What e're hath Being did his hands prepare He wills that Mortalls be not over-wise Nor judge his Secrets with censorious eyes Medit. 14. T Is Vertue to flye Vice there 's none more stouâ— Than he that ventures to picke vertue out Betwixt a brace of Vices Dangers stand Threatning his ruine upon either hand His Card must guide him lest his Pinnace run Vpon Charybdis while it Scylla shun In moderation all Vertue lyes T is greater folly to be over-wise Than rudely ignorant The golden meane Is but to know enough safer to leane To Ignorance than Curiosity For lightning blasts the Mountaines that are highâ— The first of men from hence deserv'd his fall He sought for secrets and found death withall Secrets are unfit objects for our eyes They blinde us in beholding He that tryes To handle water the more hard he straines And gripes his hand the lesse his hand retaines The mind that 's troubled with that pleasing itch Of knowing Secrets having flowne a pitch Beyond it selfe the higher it ascends And strives to know the lesse it apprehends That secret Wiseman is an open Foole Which takes a Counsell-chamber for a Schoole The eye of Man desires no farther light Than to descry the object of his sight And rests contented with the Suns reflection But lab'ring to behold his bright complexion If it presume t' out-face his glorious Light The beames bereave him justly of his sight Even so the mind should rest in what 's reveal'd But over-curious if in things conceald She wades too farre beyond her depth unbounded Her knowledge will be lost and she confounded Farre safer 'tis of things unsure to doubt Than undertake to riddle secrets out It was demanded once What God did doe Before the World he framed Whereunto Answer was made He built a Hell for such As are too curious and would know too much Who flyes with Icarus his feathers shall Have Icarus his fortunes and his fall Anoble Prince whose bounteous hand was bent To recompence his servants faith and vent The earnest of his favors did not profer But wild him boldly to prevent his offer Thankfull he thus replyed Then grant vnto me 〈…〉 With-â—old thy Princely secrets from me That holy Man in whose familiar eare Heavn oft had thundred might not come too near The Temple must have Curtaines mortall hearts Must rest content to see his Hinder-parts I care not Lord how farre thy Face be off If I but kisse thy Hand I have enough THE ARGVMENT Iob wisheth his past happinesse Shewes his state present doth confesse That God's the Authâ—r of his griefe Relates the purenesse of his life Sect. 15. OH that I were as happy as I was When Heavens bright favours shone upon my face And pâ—sperd my affaires inricht my joyes When all my sonnes could answer to my voyce Then did my store and thriving flocks encrease Offended Iustice sought my hands for peace Old men did honour and the young did feare mee Princes kept silence when I spake to heare me I heard the poore reliev'd the widowes cry Orphans I succour'd was the blind mans eye The Cripples foote my helplesse brothers drudge The poore mans Father and th'oppressors Iâ—dge I then supposed that my dayes long Lease Would passe in plenty and expire in peace My Rootes were fixed and my Branches sprung My Glory blaz'd my Power grew daily strong I speaking men stood mute my speeches mov'd All hearts to joy by all men were approv'd My kindly words were welcome as a latter Raine and were Oracles in a doubtfull matter O sudden change I 'm turn'd a laughing 〈◊〉 To boyes and those that su'd to tend my flock And such whose huÌ„gry waÌ„ts have taught their haÌ„ds To scrape the earth and digge the barren lands For hidden rootes wherewith they might appeasâ— Their Tyran ' stomacks these even very these Flout at my sorrowes and disdaining me Point with theire fingers and cry This is he My honour 's foyl'd my troubled spirit lies Wide open to the worst of injuries Where ere I turne my sorrow new appeares I 'me vext abroad with flouts at home with feares My soule is faint and nights that should give â—ase To tyred spirits make my griefes encrease I loath my Carkeise for my ripened sores Have chang'd my garments colour with their coresâ— But what is worst of worsts Lord often I Have cry'd to thee a stranger to my cry Though perfect Clemency thy nature bee Though kinde to all thou art unkinde to me I nere waxt pale to see another thrive Nor e're did let my ' afflicted brother strive With teares alone but I poore I tormented Expect for succour and am unlamented I mourne in silence languish all alone As in a Desart am reâ—iev'd by none My sores have dy'd my skin with filth still turning My joyes to griefe and all my mirth to mourning My Heart hath past Indentures with mine Eye Not tâ— behold a Maid for what should I Expect from heaven but a deserv'd reward Earn'd by so foule a sinne for death 's prepar'd And flames of wrath are blowne for such Doth Hâ— Noâ— know my actions that so well knowes mee If I have lent my hand to slye deceit Or if my steps have not beene purely strait What I have sowne then let a stranger eate And root my Plants untimely from their seate If I with Lust have e'â—e distain'd my life Or beene defiled with anothers Wife In equall Iustice let my Wife be knowne Of all and let me reape as I have sowne For Lust that burneth in a sinfull brest Till it hath burnt him too shall never rest If e're my haste did treat my Servant ill Without desert making my power my Will Then how should I before
try'd Yet hath his boldnesse termâ—d himselfe upright And tax't th' Almighty for not doing right His Innocence with Heaven doth he plead And that unjustly he was punished O Purity by Impudence suborn'd He scorn'd his Maker and is justly scorn'd Farre be it from the heart of man that He Who is all Iustice yet unjust should be Each one shall reape the harvest he hath sowne His meed shall measure what his hands hath done Who is 't can claim the Worlds great Soveraignty Who rais'd the Rafters of the Heavens but He If God should breathe on man or take away The breath he gave him what were man but Clay O let thy heart th' unbridled tongue conuince Say Dare thy lips defame an earthly Prince How darst thou then maligne the King of Kings To whom great Princes are but poorest things He kicks down kingdoms spurns th'emperial crown And with his blast puffes mighty Monarchs down 'T is vaine to strive with him and if he strike Our part 's to beare not fondly to mislike Misconstruing the nature of his drift But husband his corrections to our thrift If he afflict our best is to implore His â—lessing with his Rod and sin no more What if our torments passe the bounds of measure It unbefits our wils to stint his pleasure Iudge then and let th' impartiall world advise How farre poore Iob thy judgement is from wise Nor are these speeches kindled with the fire Of a distempred spleene but with desire T' inrich thy wisdome lest thy fury tye Presumption to thy rash infirmity Meditat. 16. FOr mortals to be borne waxe old and dye Lyes not in Will but bare Necessity Common to beasts which in the selfe degree Hold by the selfe-same Patient even as we But to be wiâ—e is a diviner action Of the discursive Soule a pure abstraction Of all her powers united in the Will Ayming at Good rejecting what is Ill It is an Influence of inspired breath Vnpurchased by birth unlost by death Entail'd to no man no not free to all Yet gently answers to the eager cal Of those that with inflam'd affections seeke Respecting tender youth and age alike In depth of dayes her spirit not alway lyes Yeeres make man Old but heaven returnes him Wise Youths Innocence nor riper ages strength Can challenge her as due Desired length Of dayes produced to decrepit yeeres Fill'd with experience and grizly hayres Can claime no right th' Almighty ne're engages His gifts to times nor is he bound to Ages His quickning Spirit to sucklings oft reveales What to their doting Grandsires he conceales The vertue of his breath can unbenumme The frozen lips and strike the speaker dumme Who put that moving power into his tongue Whose lips did right the chast Susanna's wrong Vpon her wanton false Accusers death What secret fire inflam'd that fainting breath That blasted Pharo Or those ruder tongues That schoold the faithlesse Prophet for the wrongs He did to sacred Iustice matters not How sleight the meane be in it selfe or what In our esteemes so wisedome be the message Embassadours are worthied in th'Embassage God sowes his harvest to his best increase And glorifies himselfe how e're he please Lord if thou wilt for what is hard to thee I may a Factour for thy glory bee Then grant that like a faithfull servant I May render backe thy stocke with Vsury THE ARGVMENT God reapes no gaine by mans best deeds Mans misery from himselfe proceeds Gods Mercy and Iustice are unbounded In workes of Nature man is grounded Sect. 17. ELihu thus his pausing lips againe Disclos'd said rash Ioâ— dost thou maintaine A rightfull cause which in conclusion must A vow thee blamelesse and thy God unjust Thy lawlesse words implying that it can Advantage none to live an upright man My tongue shall schoole thee and thy friends that would Perchance refell thy reasons if they could Behold thy glorious Makers greatnesse see The power of his hand say then can He Be damag'd by thy sinne or can He raise Advantage by the uprightnesse of thy wayes True the afflicted languish oft in griefe And roare to heaven unanswer'd for reliefe Yet is not Heaven unjust for their fond cry Their sinne bewailes not but their misery Cease then to make him guilty of thy crimes And waite his pleasure that 's not bound to times Nor heares vaine words The sorrowes thou art in Are sleight or nothing ballanc'd with thy sin Thy lips accuse thee and thy foolish tongue To right thy selfe hath done th' Almighty wrong Hold back thine answer let thy flowing streame Find passage to surround my fruitfull Theame I 'le raise my thoughts to plead my Makers case And speake as shall befit so high a place Behold th' Almighitie's meeke as well as strong Destroyes the wicked rights the just mans wrong Mounts him to honour If by chance he stray Instructs and shewes him where he lost his way If he returne his blessing shall encrease Crowning his joyes with plenty and sweet peace If not th' intailed sword shall ne're depart His stained house but pierce his hardned heart Ah sinfull Iob these plagues had never bin Had'st thou beene guiltlesse as thou boasts of sin But thy proud lips against their Maker plead And draw downe heapes of vengeance on thy head Looke to thy selfe seek not to understand The secret causes of th' Eternals hand Let wisdome make the best of misery Know who inflicts it aske no reason why He will's beyond thy reach and his Divine And sacred knowledge farre surpasseth thine Ah! rather praise him in his workes that lye Wide open to the world before thine eye His meaner Acts our highest thoughts o'retops He pricks the clouds stils down the raine by drops Who comprehends the lightning or the thunder Who sees who heares theÌ„ unamaz'd with wonder My troubled heart chils in my quivering brest To relish these things and is dispossest Of all her powers who ever heard the voyce Of th' angry heavens unfrighted at the noyse The beast by nature daz'd with sudden dread Seekes out for covert to secure his head If God command the dusky clouds march forth Into a Tempest From the freezing North He beckens Frost and Snow and from the South He bloweth Whirlewinds with his angry Mouth Presumptuous Ioâ— if thou canst not aspire So high to comprehend these things admire Know'st thou the progresse of the rambling clouds From mortal eyes when gloomy darkness shrouds The lamps of heaven know'st thou the reason why Can'st thou unriddle heavens Philosophy Know'st thou th' unconstant nature of the weather Or whence so many Winds proceed and whither Wer 't thou made privy or a standerâ—by When God stretcht forth his spangled Canopy Submit thy selfe and let these secâ—ets teach How farre his Myst'ries doe surmount thy reach For Hee 's Almighty and his sacred will Is just nor renders an unearned ill His workes are objects for no soaring eyes But wheresoe're he lookes he findes none wise Meditat. 17. THe World
not doe What then is man but Nothing being Evill His Lunatike affections doe unlevell What Heaven created by just Waight and measure In pleasures sinke he takes a swine like Pleasure His span of life and beauties like a Flower Faire flourishing and fading in an hower He breakes into the world with teares and then Departs with Griefe not knowing how nor when His life 's a Bubble full of seeming Blisse The more it lengthens the more short it is Begot in darknesse he 's brought forth and cries For succour passes ore the stage and dyes Yet like a Moale the earth he undermines Making the World the Forge of his designes He plots complots for esees prevents directs Hee hopes he feares he doubts pursues effects Each hath his plot each one his course doth bend Each hath his project and each one his end Thus restlesse man doth still his soule molest To finde out that which hath no being Rest Thus travels sinfull man in endlesse toyle Taking a pleasure in his owne turmoyle Fond man first seeke to purchase that divine And sacred prize and all the world is thine Great Salomon made suit for Wisdome and he found Not barely Wisdome but that Wisdome crown'd With Diadems of wealth and faire encrease Of Princely Honour with long dayes of Peace With safe respect and awfull reverence To Myst'ries Meditation doth commence An earnest doubt Was Iobs dispoiled Flock Restored double Was his former Stock Renew'd with double vantage Did heaven adde To all his fortunes double what he had Yet those sweet Emblemes of his dearest love His sonnes whom death untimely did remove From off the face of the unthankfull earth Why likewise sprang not they in double birth Bruit beasts that perish once are lost for ever Their substance and their All consumes together Once having given a farewell to the light They dye and with them is perpetuall night But man unorgan'd by the hand of Death Dyes not is but transplanted from beneath Into a fairer soyle or as a stranger Brought home secure from the worlds pleasing danger Iobs flocks were lost and therefore double given His Issue 's equall shar'd 'twixt Earth and Heaven One halfe in heav'n are glorious in their doome Ingag'd as Pledges till the other come Great God! my Time 's but short and long my way My Heart hath lost her Path and gone astray My spirit 's faint and fraile my soule 's imbost If thou helpe not I am for ever lost Though Dust and Ashes yet I am thy Creature Howe're my sinnes are great thy Mercie 's greater Of nothing didst thou make me and my sinne Hath turn'd me back to nothing once agin Create me a new heart great God inspire My cold affections with thy sacred fire Instruct my Will and rectifie my Wayes O teach me Lord to number out my Dayes The Digestion of the whole HISTORY 1 In Prosperity THou whose lank fortunes heav'n hath swel'd with store Make not thy selfe by over-wishing poore Husband that good which else abuse makes bad Abstracting where thy base desire would adde Lines flowing from a Sophoclean quill Deserve no Plaudit being acted ill 2 In Adversity Hath heav'n withdrawn the talent he hath giv'n thee Hath envious Death of all thy Sons bereaven thee Have soule Diseases foil'd thee on the floore He earnes no sweet that never tasted sowre Thou art a Scholler if thy Tutor doe Pose thee too hard he will instruct thee too 3 In Tentation Art thou oppos'd to thine unequall Foe March bravely on thy Gen'rall bids thee goe Thou art heav'ns Champion to maintain his right Who cals thee forth wil give thee strength to fight God seekes by conquest thy renowne for He Will win enough Fight thou or Faint or Flee 4 In Slander If Winter fortunes nip thy Summer Friends And tip their tongues with Censure that offends Thy tender Name despaire not but be wise Know Heaven selecteth whom the world denies Thou hast a milke-white Thisâ—y that's within 〈◊〉 Will take thy part when all the world's â—giâ— thee 5 In Re-advancement Art thou advanc'd to thy supreme desier Be still the same Feare Lower aime no higher Mans Play hath many Sceanes but in the last Heaven knits up all to sweeten all that 's past Affliction is a Rod to scourge us home An 'a painfull earnest of a Heaven to come The end THE HISTORIE OF SAMSON By Fra. Quarles LONDON Printed by MILES FLESHER for I. MARRIOTT in S. Dunstans Church-yard in Fleet-street 1632. To the READER THe tyranny of my affaires was never yet so imperious but I could steale some howers to my private Meditations the fruits of which stolne time I here present thee with in the History of Samson Wherein if thy extreme severity check at any thing which thou conceivest may not stand with the Majesty of this sacred Subject know that my intention was not to offend my brother The wisest of Kings inspired by the King of Wisdome thought it no detraction from the gravity of his Holy Proverbs to describe a Harlot like a Harlot Her whorish Attire her immodest Gesture her bold Countenance her flattering Tongue her lascivious Embraces her unchast Kisses her impudent Invitations If my descriptions in the like kinde offend I make no question but the validitie of my Warrant will give a reasonable satisfaction He that lifts not his feet high enough may easily stumble But on the contrary if any be whose worse then sacrilegious minds shall prophane our harmles intentions with wanton conceits to such I heartily wish a Procul Ite Let none such looke farther then this Epistle at their own perils If they doe let them put off their shoos for this is holy Ground Foule hands will muddle the clearest waters base minds will corrupt the purest Text If any offence be taken it is by way of stealth for there is none willingly given I write to Bees and not to Spiders They will sucke pleasing honey from such flowers These may burst with their owne poyson But you whose well-seasond hearts are not distempered with either of these extremities but have the better relish of a Sacred understanding draw neere and reade I Sing th' illustrious and renowned Story Of mighty Samson The eternall glory Of his Heroicke acts His life His death Quicken my Muse with thy diviner breath Great God of Muses that my prosp'rous Riâ—es May live and last to everlasting times That they unborne may in this sacred Story Admire thy goodnes and advance thy glory THE HISTORIE OF SAMSON THE ARGVMENT A holy Angell doth salute The wife of Manoah and inlarge Her barren wombe with promis'd fruit Of both their loynes The Angles charge Sect. 1. WIthin the Tents of Zorah dwelt a man Of Iacobs seed and of the Tribe of Dâ—n Knowne by the name of Maenoah to whom Heaven had deny'd the treasure of the wombe His Wife was barren And her prayers could not Remove that great reproach or clense that blot Which on her fruitlesse name appear'd
her feares would teach her to repent That frighfull thought but wheÌ„ she deeply waigh'd The joyfull message then her thoughts obay'd Her first conceit Distracted with confusion Sometimes she fear'd it was a false delusion Suggested in her too beleeving eares Sometimes she doubts it was a Dreame that beares No waight but in a slumber till at last Her feet advised by her thoughts made haste Vnto her husband in whose eares she brake This minde-perplexing secret thus and spake Sir As my discursive thoughts did lately muse On those great blessings wherewith heaven doth use To crowne his children here among the rest Me thoughts no one could make a wife more blest And crowne her youth her age with greater measure Of true content than the unprized treasure Of her chaste wombe but as my thoughts were bent Vpon this subject being in our Tent And none but I appear'd before mine eyes A man of God His habit and his guise Was such as holy Prophets use to weare But in his dreadfull lookes there did appeare Something that made me tremble In his eye Mildnesse was mixt with awfull Majesty Strange was his language and I could not chuse But feare the man although I lik'd his newes Woman said he Cheare up and doe not feare I have no Vials nor no Iudgements here My hand hath no Commission to enquire Into thy sinnes nor am I clad in fire I come to bring thee tydings of such things As have their warrant from the King of Kings Thou shalt conceive and when thy time is come Thou shalt enjoy the blessings of thy wombe Before the space of twice five months be runne Thou shalt become the parent of a Sonne Till then take heed thou neither drinke nor eate Wines or strong drinke or Law-forbidden meate For when this promis'd child shall see the light Thou shalt be mother to a Nazarite While thus he spake â— trembled Horrid feare Vsurpt my quivering heart Onely mine eare Was pleas'd to be the vessell of such newes Which Heaven make good and give me strength to use My better Faith The holy Prophets name I was affraid t' enquire or whence he came Meditat. 2. ANd dost thou not admier Can such things Obtain lesse priviledge thaÌ„ a Tale that brings The audience wonder enter mixt with pleasure Is 't a small thing that Angels can finde leisure To leave their blessed seates where face to face They see their God and quit that heavenly place The least conception of whose joy and mirth Transcends th' united pleasures of the earth Must Angels leave their Thrones of glory thus To watch our foot-steps and attend on us How good a God have we whose eyes can winke For feare they should discover the base finke Of our loath'd sinnes How doth he stop his eare Lest when they call for Iustice he should heare How often Ah how often doth He send His willing Angels hourely to attend Our steps and with his bounty to supply Our helplesse wants at our false-hearted cry The bounteous Ocean with a liberall hand Transports her laden treasure to the land Inriches every Port and makes each towne Proud with that wealth which now she cals her owne And what returne they for so great a gaine But sinckes and noysome Gutters backe againe Even so great God thou sendst thy blessings in And we returne thee Dunghils of our Sinne How are thy Angels hacknei'd up and downe To visit man How poorely doe we crowne Their blessed labours They with Ioy dismount Laden with blessings but returne th' account Of Filth and Trash They bring th'unvalued prize Of Grace and promis'd Glory while our eyes Disdaine these heavenly Factours and refuse Their proferd wares affecting more to chuse Agraine of pleasure than a Iemme of glory We finde no treasure but in Transitory And earth-bred Toiâ—s while things immortal stand Like Garments to be sold at second hand Great God Thou know'st we are but flesh blood Alas we can interpret nothing good But what is evill deceitfull are our Ioyes We are but children and we whine for Toyes Of things unknowne there can be no desire Quicken our hearts with the celestiall fire Of thy discerning Spirit and we shall know Both what is good and good desier too Vouchsafe to let thy blessed Angell come And bring the tidings that the barren Wombâ— Of our affections is inlarg'd O when That welcome newes shall be revealed then Our soules shall soone conceive bring thee forth The firstlings of a new and holy birth THE ARGVMENT Manoah's wonder turnes to zeale his zâ—ale to pray'r His pray'rs obtaine The Angel that did late reveale the joyfull newes returnes againe Sect. 3. NOw when th' amazed woman had commended Her tongue to silence and her tale was ended Perplexed Manoah ravisht at the newes Within himselfe he thus began to muse Strange is the message And as strangely done Shall Manoah's loynes be fruitfull Shall a Sonne Blesse his last dayes Or shall an Issue come From the chill closet of a barren wombe Shall Manoah's wife give suck and now at last Finde pleasure when her prime of youth is past Shall her cold wombe be now in age restor'd And was 't a man of God that brought the word Or was 't some false delusion that possest The weaknesse of a lonely womans brest Or was 't an Angel sent from heaven to show What Heaven hath will as well as pow'r to doe Till then thou must refraine to drinke or eate Wines and strong drink and Law-forbidden meate Evill Angls rather would instruct to riot They use not to prescribe so strict a Dyet No no I make no further question of it 'T was some good Angel or some holy Prophet Thus having mus'd a while he bow'd his face Vpon the ground and prostrate in the place Where first he heard the welcome tydings pray'd His wonder now transform'd to zeale and said Great God that hast ingag'd thy selfe by vâ—w When e're thy little Israel begs to bow Thy gracious eare O harken to the least Of Israel's sonnes and grant me my request By thee I live and breathe Thou did'st become My gracious God both in and from the wombe Thy precious favours I have still possest And have depended on thee from the Brest My simple Infancy hath bin protected By thee my Child-hood taught my youth corrected And sweetly chastned with thy gentle Rod I was no sooner but thou wert my God All times declare thee good this very houre Can testifie the greatnesse of thy power And promptnesse of thy Mercy which hast sent This blessed Angel to us to augment The Catalogue of thy favours and restore Thy servants wombe whose hopes had even given ore T' expect an issue What thou hast begun Prosper and perfect till the worke be done Let not my Lord be angry if I crave Aboone too great for me to beg or have Let that blest Angel that thou sent'st of late Reblesse us with his presence and relate Thy will at large
and what must then be done When time shal bring to light this promis'd sonne About that time when the declining Lampe Trebles each shadow when the evening dampe Begins to moisten and refresh the land The Wife of Manoah under whose command The weaned Lambes did feed being lowly seated Vpon a Shrubbe where often she repeated That pleasing newes the subject of her thought Appear'd the Angell he that lately brought Those blessed tidings to her up she rose Her second feare had warrant to dispose Her nimble foot-steps to unwonted haste She runnes with speed she cannot runne too fast At length she findes her husband In her eyes Were Ioy and Feare whilst her lost breath denies Her speech to him her trembling hands make signs She puffes and pants her breathlesse tongue disjoynes Her broken words Behold behold said she The man of God if man of God he be Appear'd againe These very eyes beheld The man of God I left him in our field Meditat. 3. HEav'n is Gods Magazen wherein he hath Stor'd up his Vials both of love and wrath Iustice and Mercy waite upon his Throne Favours and Thunderbolts attend upon His sacred Will and Pleasure Life and Death Doe both receive their influence from his breath Iudgements attend his left at his right hand Blessings and everlasting Pleasures stand Heav'n is the Magazen wherein he puts Both good and evill Pray'r is the key that shuts And opens this great Treasure T is a key Whose wards are Faith and Hope and Charity Wouldst thou prevent a judgement due to sinne Turne but the key and thou maist locke it in Or wouldst thou have a Blessing fall upon thee Open the doore and it will shower on thee Can Heav'n be false or can th' Almighties tongue That is all very truth doe truth that wrong Not to performe a vow His lips have sworne Sworne by himselfe that if a Sinner turne To him by pray'r his pray'r shall not be lost For want of eare nor his desier crost How is it then we often aske and have not We aske and often misse because we crave noâ— The things we should his wisdome can foresee Those blessings better that we want than weâ— Hast thou not heard a peevish Infant baule To gaine possession of a knife And shall Th' indulgent nurse bee counted wisely kinde If she be mov'd to please his childish minde Is it not greater wisdome to deny The sharp-edg'd knife and to present his eye With a fine harmlesse Puppit We require Things oft unfit and our too fond desire Fastens on goods that are but glorious ills Whilst Heav'ns high wisdome contradicts our wils With more advantage for we oft receive Things that are farre more fit for us to have Experience tels we seeke and cannot finde We seeke and often want because we binde The Giver to our times He knows we want Patience and therefore he suspends his grant T' encrease our faith that so we may depend Vpon his hand he loves to heare us spend Our childish mouthes Things easily obtain'd Are lowly priz'd but what our prayers have gain'd By teares and groanes that cannot be exprest Are farre more deare and sweeter when possest Great God! whose power hath so oft prevail'd Against the strength of Princes and hast quail'd Their prouder stomaks with thy breath discrown'd Their heads thrown their Scepters to the grouÌ„d Striking their swelling hearts with cold despaire How art thou conquer'd and o'recome by Pray'r Infuse that Spirit Great God into my heart And I will have a blessing ere we part THE ARGVMENT Manoah desires to know the fashion And breeding of his promis'd sonne To whom the Angel makes relation Of all things needfull to be done Sect. 4. WIth that the Danite rose and being guided By his perplexed wife they both divided Their heedlesse paces â—ill they had attain'd The field 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉 of God remain'd And drawing â—eerer to hâ—s presence stai'd His weary steps and with obeysance said Art thou the 〈…〉 blessed lips â—oretold Those joyfull 〈◊〉 Shall my tongue be bold Without the breach of manners to request This boone Art thoâ—â— that Prophet that possest This barren woman with a hope that She Shall beare a Sonne He answer'd I am He Said Manoah then Let not a word of thine Be lost let them continue to divine Our future happinesse let them be crown'd With truth and thou with honour to be found A holy Prophet Let performance blesse And speed thy speeches with a faire successe But tell me Sir when this great worke is done And time shall bring to light this promis'd Sonne What sacred Ceremonies shall we use What Rites What way of bleeding shall we chuse T' observe What holy course of life shall be Be trained in What shall his Office be Whereat th' attentive Angel did divide The portall of his lips and thus replide The Child that from thy fruitfull loynes shall come Shall be a holy Nazarite from the wombe Take heed that wombe that shall inclose this Childe In no case be polluted or defilde With Law-forbidden meates Let her forbeare To taste those things that are forbidden there The bunch-back Camell shall be no repast For her Her palate shall forbeare to taste The burrow haunting Cony and decline The swiftfoote-Hare and mire-delighting Swine The griping Goshauke and the towring Eagle The party-coloured Pye must not inveigle Her lips to move the brood-devouring Kite The croaking Raven th' Owle that hates the light The steele-digesting Bird the laste Snaile The Cuckow ever telling of one tale The fish-consuming Osprey and the Want That undermines the greedy Cormorant Th' indulgent Pellican the predictious Crow The chattring Storke and ravenous Vulter too The thorn-backt Hedgehogge and the prating lay The Lapwing flying still the other way The lofty-flying Falkon and the Mouse That findes no pleasure in a poore mans house The suck-egge Weasell and the winding Swallow From these she shall abstaine and not unhallow Her op'ned lips with their polluted flesh Strong drinke she must forbeare and to refresh Her lingring palate with luâ—-breeding Wine The Grape or what proceedeth from the Vine She must not taste for feare she be defilde And so pollute her wombe-enclosed Childe When time shall make her mother of a Sonne Beware no keen-edg'd Raisor come upon His bâ—llowed Crowne the haire upon his head Must not be cut His bountious lockes must spred On his broad shoulders From his first drawne breath The Childe shall be a Nazarite to his death Meditat. 4. WHat shallow judgment or what easie braine Can choose but laugh at those that strive in vaine To build a Tower whose ambitious Spire Should reach to heaven what foole would not admire To see their greater folly who would raise A Tower to perpetuate the praise And lasting Glory of their renowned Name What have they lâ—ft but Monuments of shame How poore and slender are the enterprises Of man that onely whispers and advises With heedlesse flesh and blood and never
That faintly blaze like Oyle-forsaken snuffes Which every breath of discontentment puffs 〈◊〉 quite extinguishes and leaves us nothing 〈◊〉 an offensive subject of our loathing THE ARGVMENT He goes to Timnah As he went he slew a Lyon by the way He sues obtaines the Maids consent and they appoint the mariage day Sect. 8. WHen the next day had with his morning light Redeem'd the East from the dark shades of night And with his golden raies had overspred The neighb'ring Mountaines from his loathed Bed Sick-thoughted Samson rose whose watchfull eyes Morpheus that night had with his leaden keyes Not power to close his thoughts did so incumber His restlesse soule his eyes could never slumber Whose softer language by degrees did wake His fathers sleepe-bedeafned eares and spake Sir Let your early blessings light upon The tender bosome of your prosprous Sonne And let the God of Israel repay Those blessings double on your head this day The long-since banisht shadowes make me bold To let you know the morning waxes old The Sunbeames are growne strong their brighter 〈◊〉 Have broke the Mists and dride the morning dewe The sweetnesse of the season does invite Your steps to visit Timnah and acquite Your last nights promise With that the Danite and his wife arose Scarce yet resolv'd at last they did dispose Their doubtfull paces to behold the prize Of Samsons heart and pleasure of his eyes They went and when their travell had attain'd Those fruitfull hills whose clusters entertain'd Their thirsty palats with their swelling pride The musing lover being stept aside To gaine the pleasure of a lonely thought Appear'd a full ag'd Lyon who had sought But could not finde his long desired prey Soone as his eye had given him hopes to pay His debt to nature and to mend that fault His empty stomacke found he made assault Vpon th' unarmed Lovers brest whose hand Had neither staffe nor weapon to withstand His greedy rage but he whose mighty strength Or sudden death must now appeare at length Stretcht forth his brawny arme his arme supplide With power from heaven and did with ease divide His body limme from limme and did betray His flesh to foules that lately sought his prey This done his quicke redoubled paces make His stay amends his nimble steps ore take His leading parents who by this discover The smoake of Timnah Now the greedy Lover Thinkes every step a mile and every pace A measur'd League untill he see that face And finde the treasure of his heart that lies In the faire Casket of his Mistresse Eyes But all this while close Samson made not knowne Vnto his Parents what his hands had done By this the gate of Timnah entertaines The welcome travellers The parents paines 〈◊〉 now rewarded with their sonnes best pleasure The Virgin comes His eyes can finde no leisure To owne another object O the greeting Th' impatient lovers had at their first meeting The Lover speakes She answers He replies She blushes He demandeth Shee denies He pleads affection She doubts He sues For nuptiall love She questions He renewes His earnest suite Importunes She relents He must have no deniall She consents They passe their mutual loves Their joyned hands Are equall earnest of the nuptiall bands The parents are agreed All parties pleas'd The day 's set downe the lovers hearts are eas'd Nothing displeases now but the long stay Betwixt th'appointment and the mariage day Meditat. 8. T Is too severe a censure If the Sonne Take him a wife the mariage fairely done Without consent of parents who perchance Had rais'd his higher price knew where t' advance His better'd fortunes to one hundred more He lives a Fornicator She a Whore Too hard a censure And it seemes to me The Parent 's most delinquent of the three What if the better minded Son doe aime At worth What if rare vertues doe inflame His rapt affection What if the condition Of an admir'd and dainty disposition Hath wen his soule Whereas the covetous Father Finds her Gold light and recommends him rather T'an old worne widow whose more weighty purse Is fil'd with gold and with the Orphans curse The sweet exubrance of whose full mouth'd portion Is but the cursed issue of extortion Whose worth perchance lies onely in her weight Or in the bosome of her great estate What if the Sonne that does not care to buy Abundance at so deare a rate deny The soule-detesting profer of his Father And in his better Iudgement chooses rather To match with meaner Fortunes and desert I thinke that Mary chose the better part What noble Families that have out-growne The best records have quite bin overthrowne By wilfull parents that will either force Their sonnes to match or haunt them with a curse That can adapt their humours to rejoyce And fancy all things but their childrens choice Which makes them often timorous to reveale The close desiers of their hearts and steale Such matches as perchance their faire advice Might in the bud have hindred in a trice Which done and past O then their hasty spirit Can thinke of nothing under Disinherit He must be quite discarded and exilde The furious father must renounce his childe Nor Pray'r nor Blessing must he have bereiven Of all Nor must he live nor die forgiven When as the Fathers rashnesse oftentimes Was the first causer of the Childrens crimes Parents be not too cruell Children doe Things oft too deepe for us t' enquire into What father would not storme if his wilde Sonne Should doe the deed that Samson here had done Nor doe I make it an exemplar act Onely let parents not be too exact To curse their children or to dispossesse Them of their blessings Heaven may chance to blesse Be not too strict Faire language may recure A fault of youth whilst rougher words obdure THE ARGVMENT Samson goes downe to celebrate his mariage and his nuptiall feast The Lyon which he â—lew of late hath honey in his putrid brest Sect. 9. When as the long expected time was come Wherin these lingring Lovers should consumme The promis'd mariage observe the rites Pertaining to those festivall delights Samson went downe to Timnah there t' enjoy The sweet possession of his dearest joy But as he past those fruitfull Vineyards where His hands of late acquit him of that feare Wherewith the fierce assaulting Lyon quail'd His yet unpractis'd courage and prevail'd Vpon his life as by that place he past He turn'd aside and borrowed of his hast A little time wherein his eyes might view The Carkas of the Lyon which he slew But when his wandring footsteps had drawne neer The unlamented herse his wondring eare Perceiv'd a murm'ring noise discerning not From whence that strange confusion was or what He staies his steps and hearkens still the voyce Presents his eare with a continued noyse At length his gently moving feet apply Their paces to the Carkas where his eye Discernes a Swarme of Bees whose laden thighes Repos'd their burthens
glorious Conquerour is now afraid His conscious heart is smitten with his sinne He cannot chuse but feare and feare agin He feares and now the terrible alarmes Of sinne doe call him from th'unlawfull armes And lips of his luxurious Concubine Bids him arise from dalliance and resigne The usurpation of his luke-warme place To some new sinner whose lesse dangerous case May lend more leisure to so soule a deed Samson with greater and vnwonted speed Leapes from his wanton bed his feares doe presse More haste to cloath than lust did to undresse He makes no tarryance but with winged hast Bestrides the streets and to the gates he past And through the armed troupes he makes his way Beares gates and barres and pillers all away So scap'd the rage of the Philistian band That still must owe his ruine to their land Medit. 19. HOw weake at strongest is poore flesh blood Samson the greatnes of whose power withstood A little world of armed men with death â—ust now be foyled with a womans breath The mother sometimes lets her infant fall To make it hold the surer by the wall God lets his servant often goe amisse That he may turne and see how weake he is David that found an overflowing measure Of heavens high favours and as great a treasure Of saving grace and portion of the Spirit As flesh and bloud was able to inherit Must have a fall to exercise his feares And make him drowne his restles couch with tears Wise Salomon within whose heart was planted The fruitfull stockes of heavenly wisdome wanted Not that whereby his weakenesse understood The perfect vanity of flesh and bloud Whose hand seem'd prodigall of his Isaacs life He durst not trust Gods providence with his wife The righteous Lâ—t had slidings Holy Paul He had his pricke and Peter had his fall The sacred Bride in whose faire face remaines The greatest earthly beauty hath her staines If man were perfect land entirely good He were not man he were not flesh and blood Or should he never fall he would at length Not see his weakenesse and presume in strength Ere children know the sharpnesse of the Edge They thinke their fingers have a priveledge Against a wound but having felt the knife A bleeding finger sometime saves a life Lord we are children our sharpe-edg'd knives Together with our bloud le ts out our lives Alas if we but draw them from the sheath They cut our fingers and they bleed to death Thou great Chirurgion of a bleeding soule Whose soveraigne baulme is able to make whole The deepest wound Thy sacred salve is sure We cannot bleed so fast as thou canst cure Heale thou our wounds that having salv'd the sore Our hearts may feare and learne to sinne no more And let our hands be strangers to those knives That wound not fingers onely but our lives THE ARGVMENT He falls in league with Delila The Nobles bribe her to discover Her Samsons strength and learne the way To binde her arme-prevailing Lover Sect. 20. NOt farre from Azza in a fruitfull Valley Close by a brooke whose silver streams did daâ—ley â—ith the smooth bosome of the wanton sands â—hose winding current parts the neighbring lands And often washes the beloved sides â—her delightfull bankes with gentle tydes â—â—re dwelt a Beauty in whose Sunne-bright eye 〈◊〉 sate in thron'd and full of Majestie 〈◊〉 forth such glorious eye-surprizing rayes 〈◊〉 she was thought the wonder of her dayes 〈◊〉 name was called Delila the faire â—â—ther did amorous Samson oft repaire 〈◊〉 with the piercing flame of her bright eye 〈◊〉 so long that like a wanton flye 〈◊〉 â—urnt his lustfull wings and so became 〈◊〉 slavish prisner to that conquering flame She askt and had There 's nothing was too high For her to beg or Samson to denie Who now but Delila What name can raise And crowne his drooping thoughts but Delila's All time 's mispent each houre is cast away That 's not imploy'd upon his Delila Gifts must be given to Delila No cost If sweetest Delila but smile is lost No ioy can please no happinesse can crowne His best desires if Delila but frowne No good can blesse his amorous heart but this Hee 's Delila's and Delila is his Now when the louder breath of fame had blowne Her newes-proclaiming Trumpet made knowne This Lovers passion to the joyfull eares Of the cow'd Philistines their nimble feates Advis'd their better hopes not to neglect So faire advantage which may bring t' effect Their best desires and right their wasted Land Of all her wrongs by a securer hand With that some few of the Philistian Lords Repaire to Delila with baited words They tempt the frailty of the simple maid And having sworne her to their counsell said Faire Delila Thou canst not chuse but know The miseries of our land whose ruines show The danger whereinto not we but all If thou deny they helpefull hand must fall Those fruitfull fields that offer'd but of late Their plenteous favours to our prosperous state See how they lie a ruinous heape and void Of all their plenty wasted and destroyde Our common foe hath sported with our lives Hath slaine our children and destroy'd our wives 〈…〉 poore distressed land doth grone Vnder that mischiefe that his hands have done â—â—dowes implore thee and poore Orphans tongues â—all to faire Delila to right their wrongs 〈◊〉 lies in thee to help Thy helpefull hand May haâ—e the Glory to revenge thy land For which our thankefull Nation shall allow Not onely honour but reward and thou From every hand that 's present here shall gaine 〈◊〉 a thousand Sicles for thy paine To whom faire Delila whom reward had tied To satisfie her owne desires replied My Lords My humble service I acknowledge due 〈◊〉 to my native country next to you If Heaven and Fortune have enricht my hand With so much power to relieve our Land When ere your honours please to call me to it 〈◊〉 Delila shall die or doe it Say then my Lords wherein my power may doe This willing Service to my land or you Thou knowest say they No forces can withstand The mighty strength of cursed Samsons hand 〈◊〉 ruines Armies and does overthrow 〈◊〉 greatest Bands nay kingdomes at a blow The limits of his more then manly powers Are not confin'd nor is his Arme like ours His strength is more then man his conquering Arme Hath sure th' assistance of some potent charme 〈◊〉 nothing but the glory of thine eyes Wherein a farre more strong enchantment lies 〈◊〉 overthrow He 's prisoner to thine eye 〈◊〉 canst thou aske what Samson can deny 〈◊〉 sweetnesse of thy language hath the Art To dive into the secrets of his heart Move Samson then unbarre his bolted brest And let his deafned eares attaine no rest Vntill his eye-inchanted tongue replyes And tells thee where his hidden power lyes Vrge him to whisper in thy private â—are And to repose his magicke mystr'y there How by what meanes
ayre-diuiding plumes She struggles often and she oft presumes To take the sanctuary of the open fields But finding that her hopes are vaine she yeelds Even so poore Samson frighted at the sound That rows'd him from his rest forsook the ground Perceiving the Philistians there at hand To take him pris'ner he began to stand Vpon his wonted Guard His threatning breath Brings forth the prologue to their following death He rowz'd himselfe and like a Lyon shooke His drowzy limmes and with a cloudy looke Fore-telling boystrous and tempestuous weather Defi'd each one defi'd them all together Now when he came to grapple he upheav'd His mighty hand but now alas bereav'd Of wonted power that confounding arme That could no lesse then murther did no harme Blow was exchang'd for blow wound for wound He that of late disdained to give ground Flies backe apace who lately stain'd the field With conquer'd blood does now begin to yeeld He that of late brake twisted Ropes in twaine Is bound with Packthred He that did disdaine To feare the power of an Armed Band Can now walke prisoner in a single hand Thus have the trecherous Philistines betray'd Poore captive Samson Samson now obay'd Those glowing eyes that whirled death about Where ere they view'd their cursed hands put out They led him pris'ner and convai'd him downe 〈◊〉 strong-wall'd d' Azza that Philistiâ—â— towne Those gates his shoulders lately bore away â—â—ere in the common Prison did they lay â—â—stressed Samson who obtain'd no meate 〈◊〉 what he purchas'd with his painfull sweate 〈◊〉 every day they urg'd him to fulfill 〈◊〉 twelve howres taske at the laborious Mill 〈◊〉 when his wasted strength began to tyre â—â—ey'd quicken his bare sides with whips of Wire â—â—ll'd was the towne with Ioy and Triumph All â—rom the high-Prince to th' Cobbler on the stall â—ept holy-day whilest every voice became â—oarse as the Trumpe of newes-divulging fame 〈◊〉 tongues were fill'd with shouts And every eare â—â—as growne impatient of the whisperer 〈◊〉 generall was their Triumph their Applause That children shouted ere they knew a cause The better sort betooke them to their knees Dagon must worship'd be Dagon that frees â—oth Sea and Land Dagon that did subdue 〈◊〉 common â—oe Dagon must have his due Dagon must have his praise must have his prize Dagon must have his holy Sacrifice Dagon has brought to our victorious hand â—roud Samson Dagon has redeem'd our land 〈◊〉 call to Dagon and our Dagon heares 〈◊〉 groanes are 〈◊〉 to holy Dagons eares To Dagon all renowne and Glory be Where is there such another God as Hee Medita 22. HOw is our story chang'd O more then strange Effects of so small time O sudden change Is this that holy Nazarite for whom Heaven shew'd a Miracle on the barren wombe Is this that holy Thing against whose Birth Angels must quit their thrones and visit Earth Is this that blessed Infant that began To grow in favour so with God and man What is this he who strengthn'd by heav'ns hand Was borne a Champion to redeeme the Land Is this the man whose courage did contest With a fierce Lyon grapling brest to brest And in a twinkling tore him quite in sunder Is this that Conquerour whose Arme did thunder Vpon the men of Askalon the power Of whose bent fist slew thirty in an hower Is this that daring Conquerour whose hand Thrasht the proud Philistines in their wasted land And was this He that with the helpe of none Destroy'd a thousand with a silly Bone Or He whose wrists being bound together did Break Cords like flax and double Ropes like thrid Is this the man whose hands unhing'd those Gates And bare them thence with pillars barrs Grates And is he turn'd a Mill-horse now and blinde Must this great Conquerour be forc'd to grinde For bread and water Must this Heroe spend His latter times in drudgery Must he end His weary dayes in darknesse Must his hyer Be knotted cords and torturing whips of wyer â—â—ere heaven withdraws the creaturs power shakes 〈◊〉 miserie 's wanting there where God forsakes 〈◊〉 Samson not abus'd his borrow'd power 〈◊〉 had still remain'd a Conquerour 〈◊〉 Philistins did act his part No doubt 〈◊〉 eyes offended and they pluck'd them out 〈◊〉 will be just He punishes a sin 〈◊〉 in the member that he findes it in â—â—en faithlesse Zacharias did become 〈◊〉 curious his lips were strucken dumbe 〈◊〉 whose lustfull view did overprize â—â—lawfull beautie's punisht in his eyes 〈◊〉 flaming eyes seduc'd his wanton minde 〈◊〉 act a sinne Those eyes are stricken blinde 〈◊〉 beauty he invaded did invade him 〈◊〉 that faire tong that blest him so betraid him 〈◊〉 strength intemperate lust imploy'd so ill 〈◊〉 a dâ—iving the laborious Mill 〈◊〉 naked sides so pleas'd with lusts desire 〈◊〉 now as naked lasht with whips of wire Lord shouldst thou punish every part in me 〈◊〉 does offend what member would be free 〈◊〉 member acts his part They never lin 〈◊〉 they joyne and make a Body ' of fin 〈◊〉 sinne my burthen Let it never please me 〈◊〉 thou hast promis'd when I come to ease me THE ARGVMENT They make a feast And then to crowne Their mirth blind Samson is brought thither He pulls the mighty pillers downe The Building falls All slaine together Sect. 23. THus when the vulgar Triumph which does last But seldome longer then the newes was past And Dagons holy Altars had surecast To breath their idle fumes they call'd a feast A common Feast whose bounty did bewray A common joy to gratulate the day Whereto the Princes vnder whose command Each province was in their diuided land Whereto the Lords Leiutenants and all those To whom the supreme Rulers did repose An under-trust whereto the better sort Of gentry and of Commons did resort With mirth and jolly triumph to allay Their sorrowes and to solemnize the day Into the common Hall they come The Hall Was large and faire Her arched roofe was all Builded with massie stone and over-lai'd With pond'rous Lead Two sturdy Pillers stai'd Her mighty Rafters up whereon relied The weighty burthen of her lofty pride When lusty dyet and the frollicke cup Had rouz'd and rais'd their quickned spirits up 〈◊〉 brave triumphing Bacchus had displaid 〈◊〉 conquering colours in their cheeks they said 〈◊〉 Samson forth He must not worke toâ— day 〈…〉 feast Wee 'l give him leave to play 〈…〉 bravely Does our Mill-horse sweat 〈◊〉 lacke nothing What he wants in meaâ—e 〈◊〉 in lashes He is strong and stout 〈◊〉 his breath can drive the Mill about 〈◊〉 too hard we feare Goe downe and free him 〈◊〉 that his Mistresse Delila would see him 〈◊〉 of him will take our howers short 〈◊〉 him then to make our Honours sport 〈◊〉 proviaâ— some Riddles Let him bring 〈◊〉 of Triumph He that 's blinde may sing 〈◊〉 better boldnesse Bid him never doubt 〈◊〉 What matter though his eyes be out 〈◊〉 dishonour that he cannot see 〈◊〉
the God of Love's as blinde as hee 〈◊〉 that they brought poore Samson to the Hall 〈◊〉 as he past he gropes to finde the wall 〈◊〉 paâ—â— was slow His feet were lifted high 〈◊〉 tongue would taunt him Every scornfull eye 〈◊〉 filld with laughter Some would cry aloud 〈◊〉 in state His Lordship is growne proud 〈◊〉 bid his honour â—asle whilst others cast â—prochfull termes upon him as he past 〈◊〉 would salute him fairely and embrace 〈◊〉 wounded sides then spit upon his face 〈◊〉 would cry For shame for heare t' abuse 〈◊〉 high and great redeemer of the Iewes 〈◊〉 gibe and flout him with their taunts quip◠〈◊〉 others flurt him on the starting lips 〈◊〉 that poore Samson whose abundant griefe 〈…〉 hopes of comfort or reliefe Resolv'd for patience Turning round he made Some shift to feele his Keeper out and said Good Sir my painfull labour in the Mill Hath made me bold although against my will To crave some little rest If you will please To let the Pillour but afford some ease To my worne limmes your mercy should relieve A soule that has no more but thanks to give The keeper yeelded Now the Hall was filld With Princes and their People that beheld Abused Samson whilst the Roofe retain'd A leash of thousands more whose eyes were chainâ—â— To this sad Object with a full delight To see this flesh-and-blood-relenting sight With that the pris'ner turnd himselfe and pray'd So soft that none but heaven could heare and saidâ— My God my God Although my sinnes doe cry For greater vengeance yet thy gratious eye Is full of mercy O remember now The gentle promise and that sacred vow Thou mad'st to faithfull Abram and his seed O heare my wounded soule that has lesse need Of life then mercy Let thy tender eare Make good thy plenteous promise now and heare See how thy cursed enemies prevaile Above my strength Behold how poore and fraile My native power is and wanting thee What is there Oh what is there Lord in me Nor is it I that suffer My desert May challenge greater vengeance if thou wert â—xtreme to punish Lord the wrong is thine The punishment is just and onely mine I am thy Champion Lord It is not me They strike at Through my sides they thrust at thee 〈◊〉 thy Glory 't is their Malice lies 〈◊〉 at that when they put out these eyes 〈◊〉 their blood-bâ—dabl'd hands would flie 〈…〉 thou but cloth'd in flesh as I 〈◊〉 thy wrongs great God O let thy hand 〈◊〉 thy suffring honour and this land 〈◊〉 â—e thy power Renew my wasted strength 〈…〉 fight thy bâ—ttels and at length 〈◊〉 thy glory that my hands may do 〈◊〉 faithfull service they were borne unto 〈…〉 thy power that I may restore 〈◊〉 and I will never urge thee more 〈◊〉 having ended both his armes he laid 〈◊〉 the pillours of the Hall and said 〈◊〉 with the Philistines I resigne my breath 〈◊〉 let my God finde Glory in my death 〈◊〉 having spoke his yeelding body strain'd 〈◊〉 those Marble pillours that sustain'd 〈◊〉 pondrous Roofe They cracket and with their fall 〈◊〉 fell the Battlements and Roofe and all 〈◊〉 with their ruines slaughter'd at a blow 〈◊〉 whole Assembly They that were below 〈◊〉 their sudden deaths from those that fell 〈◊〉 off the top whilst none was left to tell 〈◊〉 horrid shreckes that filld the spatious Hall 〈◊〉 ruines were impartiall and slew all 〈◊〉 fell and with an unexpected blow 〈◊〉 every one his death and buriall too Thus di'd our Samson whose brave death has won 〈◊〉 honour then his honourd life had done 〈◊〉 di'd our Conquerour whose latest breath 〈◊〉 crown'd with Conquest triumph'd over death 〈◊〉 di'd our Sampson whose last drop of blood â—deem'd heavn's glory and his Kingdome 's good Thus di'd heavens Champion and the earths bright Glory The heavenly subject of this sacred Story And thus th' impartiall hand of death that gathers All to the Grave repos'd him with his fathers Whose name shall flourish and be still in prime In spight of ruine or the teeth of Time Whose fame shal last till heaven shal please to free This Earth from Sinne and Time shall cease to be Medita 23. WAges of sinne is death The day must come Wherin the equall hand of death must sum The severall Items of mans fading glory Into the easie totall of one Story The browes that sweat for Kingdomes and renown To glorifie their Temples with a Crowne At length grow cold and leave their honourd name To flourish in th' uncertaine blast of Fame This is the heighth that glorious Mortalls can Attaine This is the highest pitch of Man The quilted Quarters of the Earths great Ball Whose unconfined limits were too small For his extreame Ambition to deserve Six foote of length and three of bredth must serve This is the highest pitch that Man can flie And after all his Triumph he must die Lives he in Wealth Does well deserved store Limit his wish that he can wish no more And does the fairest bounty of encrease Crown him with plenty and his dayes with peaceâ— It is a right hand blessing But supply Of wealth cannot secure him He must die Lives he in Pleasure Does perpetuall mirth 〈◊〉 him a little Heaven upon his earth â—eets he no sullen care no sudden losse 〈◊〉 coole his joyes Breathes hee without a crosse â—ants he no pleasure that his wanton eye 〈◊〉 crave or hope from fortune He must dye 〈◊〉 he in Honour Hath his faire desart â—â—tain'd the freedome of his Princes heart 〈◊〉 may his more familiar hands disburse 〈◊〉 liberall favors from the royall purse 〈◊〉 his Honour cannot soare too high 〈◊〉 palefac'd death to follow He must dye Lives he a Conqu'rour And doth heaven blesse 〈◊〉 heart with spirit that spirit with successe Successe with Glory Glory with a name To live with the Eternitie of Fame The progresse of his lasting fame may vye With time But yet the Conquerour must dye Great and good God Thou Lord of life and deth 〈◊〉 whom the Creature hath his being breath Teach me to underprize this life and I Shall finde my losse the easier when I dye So raise my feeble thoughts and dull desire That when these vaine and weary dayes expire I may discard my flesh with joy and quit My better part of this false earth and it Of some more sinne and for this transitory And tedious life enjoy a life of Glory The end SIONS SONETS Sung By SOLOMON the KING And PERIPHRAS'D By Fra. Quarles LONDON Printed by MILES FLESHER 1632. To the READERS REaders now you have them May the end of my paines be the beginâ—ing of your pleasures Excuse me for â—haring so high else give me leave to excuse my selfe Indeed I flew with Eagles feathers otherwise I had not flowne or falne It is the Song of Songs There present you with The Author King SOLOMON the wisest of Kings The matter mysticall the divinest of subjects
secret angle of the Land Which beares no marke of heavens enraged hand ELEG 4. â—Arts thrild from heaveÌ„ transfix my bleeding heart And fill my soule with everlasting smart Whose festring wound no fortune can recure Th' Almighty strikes but seldome but strikes sure His finowy arme hath drawne his steely bow And sent his forked shafts to overthrow My pined Princes and to ruinate The weakened Pillars of my wounded State His hand hath scourg'd my deare delights acquired My soule of all wherein my soule delighted I am the mirrour of unmasked sin To see her dearely purchas'd pleasures in ELEG 5. EVen as the Pilot whose sharpe Keele divides Th' encountring waves of the Cicilian Tides Tost on the listâ— of death striving to scape The danger of deepe mouth'd Chaâ—ybdis rape Reâ—uts on Scyâ—â—a with a forc'd careere And wrecks upon a lesse suspected feare Even so poore I contriving to withstand My Foemans fall into th' Almighties hand So I the childe of ruine to avoid Lesse dangers by a greater am destroy'd How necessary Ah! How sharp's his end That neither hath his God nor man to friend ELEG 6. FOrgotten Sion hangs her drooping head Vpon her fainting brest Her soule is fed With endlesse griefe whose torments had depriv'd her Long since of life had not new paines reviv'd her Sion is like a Garden whose defence Being broke is left to the rude violence Of wastefull Swine full of neglected waste Nor having flowre for smell nor herbe for taste Heaven takes no pleasure in her holy Feasts Her idle Sabbaths or burnt fat of beasts Both State and Temple are despoil'd and fleec't Of all their beauty without Prince or Priest ELEG 7. GLory that once did Heavens bright Temple fill Is now departed from that sacred Hill See how the emptie Altar stands disguis'd Abus'd by Gentiles and by heaven despis'd That place wherein the holy One hath taken So sweet delight lies loathed and forsaken That sacred place wherein the precious Name Of great Iebovah was preserv'd the same Is turn'd a Den for Theeves an open stage For vice to act on a defiled Cage Of uncleane birds a house of priviledge For sin and uncontrolled sacriledge ELEG 8. HEaven hath decreed his angry brest doth boile His time 's expired and he 's arm'd to spoile His secret Will adjourn'd the righteous doome Of threatned Sion and her time is come His hand is arm'd with thunder from his eyes A flame more quicke than sulphrous Etna flyes Sion must fall That hand which hath begun Can never rest till the full worke be done Her walls are sunke her Towres are overthrowne Heaven will not leave a stone upon a stone Hence hence the flouds of roaring Iudah rise Hence Sion fills the Cisternes of her eyes ELEG 9. IOy is departed from the holy Gates Of deare Ierusalem and peace retraits From wasted Sion her high walls that were An armed proofe against the brunt of feare Are shrunke for shame if not withdrawne for pity To see the ruine of so brave a City Her Kings and out-law'd Princes live constraind Hourely to heare the name of Heaven profan'd Manners and Lawes the life of government Are sent into eternall banishment Her Prophets cease to preach they vow unheard They howle to heaven but heaven gives no regard ELEG 10. KIng Priest and People all alike are clad In weeds of Sack-cloth taken from the sad Wardrobe of sorrow prostrate on the earth They close their lips their lips estrang'd to mirth Silent they sit for dearth of speech affords A sharper Accent for true griefe than words The Father wants a Son the Son a Mother The Bride her Groom th the brother waÌ„ts a brother Some Famine Exile some and some the sword Hath slaine All want when Sion wants her Lord How art thou all in all There 's nothing scant Great God with thee without thee all things want ELEG 11. â—Aunch forth my soule into a sea of teares Whose ballanc'd bulke no other Pilot steares Then raging sorrow whose uncertaine hand Wanting her Compasse strikes on every sand Driven with a storme of sighes she seekes the Haven Of rest but like to Noahs wandring Raven She scowres the Maine and as a Sea-lost Rover She roames but can no land of peace discover Mine eyes are faint with teares teares have no end The more are spent the more remaine to spend What Marble ah what Adamantine eye Can looke on Sions ruine and not cry ELEG 12. MY tongue the tongues of Angels are too faint T' expresse the causes of my just complaint See how the pale-fac'd sucklings roare for food And from their milkles mothers brests draw blood Children surcease their serious toyes and plead With trickling teares Ah mothers give us bread Such goodly Barnes and not one graine of corne Why did the sword escape's Why were we borne To be devour'd and pin'd with famine save us With quicke reliefe or take the lives you gave us They cryde for bread that scarce had breath to cry And wanting meanes to live found meanes to dye ELEG 13. NEver ah never yet did vengeance brand A State with deeper ruine than thy Land Deare Sion how could mischiefe beene more keene Or strucke thy glory with a sharper spleene Whereto Ierusalem to what shall I Compare this thy unequall'd misery Turne backe to ages past Search deepe Records Theirs are thine cannot be exprest in words Would would to God my lives cheape price might be Esteem'd of value but to ransome thee Would I could cure thy griefe but who is able To heale that wound that is immedicable ELEG 14. O Sion had thy prosperous soule endur'd Thy Prophets scourge thy joyes had bin secur'd But thou ah thou hast lent thine itching eare To such as claw'd and onely such wouldst heare Thy Prophets 'nointed with unhallow'd oyle Rubd where they should have launcht and did beguile Thy abused faith their fawning lips did cry Peace peace alas when there was no peace nigh They quilted silken curtaines for thy crimes Belyde thy God and onely pleas'd the times Deare Sion oh hadst thou but had the skill To stop thine eares thou hadst beene Sion still ELEG 15. â—Eople that travell through thy wasted Land Gaze on thy ruines and amazed stand They shake their spleenfull heads disdaine deride The sudden downefall of so faire a pride They clap their joyfull hands fill their tongues With hisses ballads and with Lyrick songs Her torments give their empty lips new matter And with their scornfull fingers point they at her Is this say they that place whose wonted fame Made troubled earth to tremble at her name Is this that State are these those goodly Stations Is this that Mistris and that Queene of Nations ELEG 16. QVencht are the dying Embers of compassion For empty sorrow findes no lamentation When as thy Harvest flourisht with full eares Thy sleightest griefe brought in a tide of teares But now alas thy Crop consum'd and gon Thou art but food for beasts to trample on
Thy servants glory in thy ruine those That were thy private friends are publike foes Thus thus say they we spit our rankrous spleene And gâ—ash our teeth upon the worlds faire Queene Thrice welcome this this long expected day That crownes our conquest with so sweet a prey ELEG 17. REbellious Iudah Could thy flattring crimes Secure thee from the dangers of the times Or did thy summer Prophets ere foresay These evills or warn'd thee of a winters day Did not those sweet-lipt Oracles beguile Thy wanton eares with newes of Wine and Oile But heaven is just what his deepe counsell wild His prophets told and Iustice hath fulfill'd He hath destroy'd no secret place so voyd No Fort so sure that Heaven hath not destroy'd Thou land of Iudah How 's thy sacred throne Become a stage for Heathen to trample on ELEG 18. SEe see th' accursed Gentiles doe inherit The Land of promise where heavens Sacred Spirit Built Temples for his everlasting Name There there th'usurping Pagans doe proclaime Their idle Idols unto whom they gave That stolen honor which heavnes Lord should have Winke Sion O let not those eyes be stain'd With heavens dishonour see not heaven profan'd Close close thine eyes or if they needs must be Open like flood-gates to let water flee Yet let the violence of their flowing streames Obscure thine open eyes and mask their beames ELEG 19. TRust not thy eye-lids lest a flattering sleepe Bribe them to rest and they forget to weepe Powre out thy heart thy heart dissolv'd in teares Weepe forth thy plaints in the Almighties eares Oh let thy cries thy cries to heaven addrest Disturbe the silence of thy midnight rest Prefer the sad petitions of thy soule To heaven ne're close thy lips till heaven condole Confounded Sion and her wounded weale That God that smit oh move that God to heale Oh let thy tongue ne're cease to call thine eye To weepe thy pensive heart ne're cease to cry ELEG 20. VOuchsafe oh thou eternall Lord of pitty To looke on Sion and thy dearest City Confus'd Ierusalem for thy DAVIâ—S sake And for that promise which thy selfe did make To halting Isr'el loe thy hand hath forc'd Mothers whom law lesse Famine hath divorc'd From deare affection to devoure the bloomes And buds that burgeond froÌ„ their painful wombs Thy sacred Priests and Prophets that while-ere Did hourely whisper in thy neighbouring eare Are falne before the sacrilegious sword Even where even whilst they did unfold thy word ELEG 21. WOunded and wasted by th' eternall hand Of heaven I grovell on the ground my land Is turn'd a Golgotha before mine eye Vnsepulchred my murthred people lye My dead lye rudely scattred on the stones My Cawsies all are pav'd with dead mens bones The fierce Destroyer doth alike forbeare The maidens trembling and the Matrons teare Th' imperiall sword spares neither Foole nor Wise The old mans pleading nor the Infants cries Vengeance is deafe and blinde and she respects Nor Young nor Old nor Wise nor Foole nor Sex ELEG 22. YEares heavie laden with their months retire Months gone their date of numbred daies expire The daies full houred to their period tend And howers chac'd with light-foot Minutes end Yet my undated evills no time will minish Though yeares months though daies and howers finish Feares flocke about me as invited guests Before the Portalls at proclamed feasts Where heaveÌ„ hath breathd that man that state must fall Heaven wants no thunder-bolts to strike withall I am the subject of that angry Breath My sonnes are slaine and I am mark'd for death Threnodia III. ELEG 1. ALL you whose unprepared lips did tast The tedious Cup of sharp affliction cast Your wondring eyes on me that have drunke up Those dregs whereof you onely kist the Cup I am the man 'gainst whom th' Eternall hath Discharg'd the lowder volley of his wrath I am the man on whom the brow of night Hath scowl'd unworthy to behold the light I am the man in whom th' Almighty showeâ— The dire example of unpattern'd woes I am that Pris'ner ransome cannot free I am that man and I am onely he ELEG 2. BOndage hath forc'd my servile necke to faile Beneath her load Afflictions nimble flayle Hath thrasht my soule upon a floore of stones And quasht the marrow of my broken bones Th' assembled powres of Heaven enrag'd are eager To root me out Heavens souldiers doe beleager My worried soule my soule unapt for fleeing That yeelds o'reburthen'd with her tedious being Th' Almighties hand hath clouded all my night And clad my soule with a perpetuall light A night of torments and eternall sorrow Like that of Death that never findes a morrow ELEG 3. CHain'd to the brazen pillars of my woes I strive in vaine No mortall hand can loose What heaven hath bound my soule is walld about That hope can nor get in nor feare get out When ere my wav'ring hopes to heaven addresse The feeble voice of my extreame distresse He stops his tyred eares without regard Of Suit or Suitor leaves my prayers unheard Before my faint and stumbling feet he layes Blockes to disturbe my best advised wayes I seeke my peace but seeke my peace in vaine For every way 's a Trap each path's a Traine ELEG 4. DIsturbed Lyons are appeas'd with blood And ravenous Beares are milde not wanting food But heaven ah heaven will not implored be Lyons and Beares are not so fierce as Hee His direfull vengeance which no meane confines Hath crost the thriving of my best designes His hand hath spoild me that erewhile advanc't me Brought in my foes possest my friends against me His Bow is bent his forked Rovers flie Like darted haile-stones from the darkned skie Shot from a hand that cannot erre they be Transfixed in no other marke but me ELEG 5. EXil'd from Heaven I wander to and fro And seeke for streames as Stags new stricken doe And like a wandring Hart I flee the Hounds With Arrowes deeply fixed in my wounds My deadly Hunters with a winged pace Pricke forwards and pursue their weary chace They whoope they hollow me deride flout me That flee from death yet carrie death about me Excesse of torments hath my soule deceiv'd Of all her joyes of all her powres bereiv'd O curious griefe that hast my soule brim-fill'd With thousand deaths and yet my soule not kill'd ELEG 6. FOllow'd with troopes of feares I flie in vaine For change of places breeds new change of paine The base condition of my low estate My exalted Foes disdaine and wonder at Turne where I list these these my wretched eyes They finde no objects but new miseries My soule accustom'd to so long encrease Of paines forgets that she had ever peace Thus thus perplext thus with my griefes distracted What shall I do Heavens powers are compacted To worke my ' eternall ruine To what friend Shal I make mone when heaven conspires my end ELEG 7. GReat GOD what helpe ah me what hope is left