Selected quad for the lemma: kingdom_n
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A04549
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A divine centurie of spirituall sonnets
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Barnes, Barnabe, 1569?-1609.
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1595
(1595)
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STC 1467; ESTC S114396
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25,138
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63
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which assayles My feeble soule entombde in earthly drosse Thy precious crosse that launce those pearsing nayles If hee shall them or their deare wounds espie Will bruise his head and yeelde mee victorie SONNET XLVIII O Glorious conquest and thrice glorious speare But seu'n times thrice more glorious the name By which thrice powerfull wee coniure the same Which but repeated doth that Dragon feare That olde Leuyathan whose iawes Lord teare Roote out his tongue which doth thy Saints defame And thy sweete Gospell seeke to vaile with shame This the chiefe conquest of all conquests weare For which Archangels and all Angels might With Cherubins and Seraphins out bring Victorious Palmes arraide in sincere white For which al Saints might Alleluya sing Then glorious Captaine our chiefe God and man Breake thou the Iawes of olde Leuiathan SONNET XLIX I Feele my soule in combat with the dust Of sinfull flesh and ready to breake out From loathsome bondage dreadlesse of all doubt I feele my soule by shaddowes seuer must From that base prison of terrestriall rust Where it shall triumph in celestiall route Of my forefathers Angels round about That glorious throne of the faithfull and iust But yet my feeble flesh surcharg'de with guilt Trembleth at thought of death but why should it Feare coward death since for my soule was spilt His bloud that shall for mee in triumph sit Death doe thy worst but yet Lord thine eare giue Why I with Dauid would not die but liue SONNET L. I Would not die but hue deare liuing Lord And to thy glory shew that facultie With which thou didst mee worthlesse beautifie Turning my Muse to that Diuine concord Which I perceiue doth with my soule accord In endlesse praise of thy Diuinitie But if vnworthy them to magnifie Because my sinfull mouth hath not abhorr'de To bee before with vanities abus'de Thou loath my wicked tongue should them declare Thy will bee donne which cannot bee refus'de For death of sinne the guerdon doth prepare Yet when I die deare God of Loue and truth Remember not the follies of my youth SONNET LI. BReake thou the iawes of olde Leuiathan Victorious conquerour breake thou the iawes Which full of blasphemie maligne thy lawes Ready to curse to lie slaunder and banne Which nothing but abhomination can Who like a ramping Lyon with his pawes Thy little flocke with daily dread adawes Antichrists Harrould who with pride beganne Euen into thy triumphant throane to prease And therefore his first comfort had forgonne The bodies ruinor and soules disease Bawde to that harlot of proude Babilon Which mortall men to mortall sinnes inuiteth Teare out those Fangues with which hee thy flocke biteth SONNET LII FVll of celestiall syrropes full of sweete are all thy preceptes full of happines full of all comforte full of blessednes those salutations which our Sauiour greete O let vs then contende since it is meete to keep those lawes with vpright holinesse oh let vs vse and haue in readinesse those sweete orations prostrate at his feete Begging imploring weeping smiling kneeling for succour grace and for our sinnes humbly repentance mercies signes in our heart feeling Repent and praise our God for it is comely O nothing doth a Christian more beseeme Then him to prayse that did his soule redeeme SONNET LIII DIdst thou redeeme my soule my sole saluation Oh with what raunsome Lorde didst thou redeeme it Eu'n of so precious worth did he esteeme it Because at our forefathers first creation Hee in his breast by sacred inspiration From his owne mouth which did so well so well beseeme it Breathed a soule diuine then let vs deeme it A gracious precious and deare immolation For him to saue our soules with his bloudshed For him to take mans nature man to saue For him to be whip'd nayl'd torne crucify'd For him to sweate in bloud to lye in graue For him most mighty to lye downe beneath Where for our life he vanquish't hell and death SONNET LIIII THen awfull sting of Paile deathes leaden darte Where is thy killing poyson and thy pile Then fearefull horrid Serpent full of guile Whose vgly kingdome hoped for his parte The most of all poore soules in endlesse smart Where is thy dreadfull conquest all this while Behold how Christian soules triumph and smile To see thee bound where thoufast burning art To see that sacred and victorious troupe Whose Captaine Lord of Lords and King of Kings Adorn'd with many Crownes makes all Crownes stoupe Which in high triumph Alleluya sings Makes God and Magog his fell furie finde Which scattred flie like dust before the winde SONNET LV. FRom depth of fearefull Hels eternall shade And bottomelesse discent into that lake In heate and cold where sinners burne and quake Where all things vnconsum'de for euer fade At whose remembrance sinners are dismaide For horrour of those dreadfull pangues which shake And for sweete succour intercession make Of their sinnes burthen and hell fire affraide Eu'n from the fearefull bottomelesse blacke pit At whose remembrance my poore soule doth tremble Saue and deliuer mee whereas I sit Inuiron'd with dispaire which doth resemble An Iland with rough seas inclosed round At euery gust in danger to bee dround SONNET LVI O That I might with the wise Prophet sing Mine heart is ready ready to giue praise But mine is not though willing most alwaies To celebrate the glorious heau'nly King Poore hart not worthie to that Angels wing Which with his glorie through the world doth paise In heau'nly number stemp'red with sweete phrase The least soft downe of Plumage for to bring Then milde then spotlesse comfortable Doue Whose winges were sinne of sinnes to violate Pure Bird of heau'nly sollace peace and Loue With Rayons bright my soule illuminate From that false lustfull Pygeon late returnde Which almost had both soule and body burnde SONNET LVII THrough Sathans malice and my nature weake When in my soule I finde my faith is deade Those sacred schoedes of comfort then I reade Whose powrefull words the gates of hell can breake Then faith in kindleth fresh and then I wreake My wrath on Sathan and vpon his head Mee thinkes like Michaell or Saint George I treade Whilst hee that earst against the Sunne did beake His foreswolne poysonous bulke doth vanquishdlie In his owne filth and I which lately was Like to bee swallowd by mine enemie Now safely like a conquerour may passe Behold my Captaines puissance who did this To ridde my soule from hell and ransome his SONNET LVIII COmfort thy selfe poore soule whom griefe of sinne Downe presseth to the mouth of the lowest hell With contrite penitence thou knowest well Him that will rayse and it from danger bring Pray then and praise the Lord who will beginne To purge thy soule and Sathans filth expell Who thee defileth and in thee doth dwell Oh Lord my voice shall praise and neuer linne So long as thou shalt lend breath to my voice My voice vnto my soule shall spirit lend And in
of these Perfourme with humaine labour strength and care So who shall striue in volumes to contayne Gods prayse ineffable contends in vayne SONNET LXX VNto my spirite lend an Angels wing By which it might mount to that place of rest Where Paradice may mee releeue opprest Lend to my tongue an Angels voice to sing Thy praise my comfort and for euer bring My notes thereof from the bright East to West Thy mercy lend vnto my soule distrest Thy grace vnto my wits then shall the sling Of righteousnesse that monster Sathan kill Who with dispaire my deare saluation dared And like the Philistine stoode breathing still Proud threats against my soule for heauen prepared At length I like an Angell shall appeare In spotlesse white an Angels Crowne to weare SONNET LXXI O Glorious Crowne more precious many waies Then simple humaine Temples can deserue Thrice glorious God who doth that Crowne reserue For men vnworthie to set out his praise Oh mortall Temples what Muse can you raise Which vnhard precious spirits doth reserue His praise most meritorious to serue Admit that past all number were your daies Admit your spirit more then the fower windes Admit your learning bee by more degrees Aboue the Seraphins admit all kindes Of Musickes instruments inferiour were In heau'nly tunes and sacred harmonies To thy sweete voice all cannot his praise beare SONNET LXXII THe sunne of our soules light thee would I call But for our light thou didst the bright Sunne make Nor reason that thy Maiestie should take Thy chiefest subiects Epithites at all Our chiefe directions starre celestiall But that the starres for our directions sake Thou fixed and canst at thy pleasure shake I would thee name The Rocke substantiall Of our assurance I would tearme thy name But that all Rockes by thy commaund were made If King of Kings thy Maiestie became Monarch of Monarches I thee would haue saide But thou giues kingdomes and makes Crownes vnstable By these I know thy name ineffable SONNET LXXIII TRiumphant conquerour of death and hell Behold what legions though in vaine conspire Thy Temple militant to set on fire And Saints which in thy sanctuarie dwell To burne whilst they against thy power rebell See how like bloudy tyrants they desire Ambitiously to rise and mount vp higher Like Lucifer which to perdition fell Their forces are addrest against thy Saints Breake thou their bowes knap thou their speares in sunder I know their spirit at thy presence faints Against their Cannon plante thy dreadfull thunder Thy thunderbolts against their bullets dash And on their beauers bright let lightning flash SONNET LXXIIII ARmies of Angelles Myriades of Saintes Millions of Emperours and holy Kings Legions of sacred Patriarkes he brings Which his rebellious foes with feare attaintes Whose spirit at thy puisant spirit faintes Great Lord of Lordes whose sacred armis singes Triumphant Peans and new musicke bringes In glorious phrase which thy sweete glorie payntes Whilst vnder thy tryumphant chariot wheeles Rowling vpon the starres thy captiues lye In quenchlesse fiery lake whose spirit feeles An endlesse torment in captiuitye When thy fowre sweete Euangelistes ride bye Like corporalles proclayming victorye SONNET LXXV ELders of grace in number sixe times foure Fall downe fall downe vpon your aged faces Sende from graue ceerefull voyce throughout all places Such ioyfull tydinges in aboundant store Of praise then sandes of seas in number more To the great bounteous giuer of all graces Harmonious Kinges cast downe your Crownes and Maces Sounding your cheerefull harpes his throne before Let Alleluiah round about resounde Power honour glory praises and renowne Ascribe vnto the Lorde who doth confounde Euen with his nostshils breath and casteth downe His worthlesse enemies of Magogs campe And vnto dust and ashes them doth stampe SONNET LXXVI AS those three Kings touch'd with a sacred zeale By presents rich made Royal offerture Our new borne Sauiours blessing to procure Borne in an Oxe stall for our publique weale When in adoring him they did reueale his Godhead by those gifts they did assure So let faith hope and loue make ouerture Of new saluation which themselues conceale In this base mortall stable sinnes foule place Whereof eternall ioyes they may present To my saluation borne of thy deare grace Such rich Propines As from thy Gospell sent By precious incense may my spirit bring The tearmelesse praises of my God to sing SONNET LXXVII PVrge thou my guiltie soule sweete gracious Lord Defil'd and vgly made with sinfull spots Heale my wounds desperate whose festure rots My vexed members loathsome and abhorrd Doe not in register my sinne recorde My wicked practises and vaine complots But lift my soule from the defiled pots And let thy mercy with my suite accorde Make thou my soule cleere like white Salmons snow Or like a siluer winged Doue appeare Where diuers glorious golden fethers show Conuert thy foemens forces into feare Like Iaben make them and like Cysara Like Seba Zeb Horeb and Salmana SONNET LXXVIII RIde on in glorie on the mornings wings Thrice puisant conquerour in glorie ride That heauen as Horse courragious doth'st bestride Who whether thou disposest succour brings Ride on the glorious cloudes high King of Kings Thy conquering sworde guirde to thy puisant side Bright soldiours muster vp whose armies guide Raungde into Quadraines and triumphant Rings That shamelesse strumpet of proud Babilon Which thine Apostles killes and Prophets stoneth With Cuppe full of abhomination Which poysons millions and no man bemoneth With her false proud and Antichristian route Suppresse and put to slaughter rounde about SONNET LXXIX THe tearmelesse date of my sweete second life When this corruption mortall in sinne bred Shall resting in obliuion vanish dead Ending the period of all earthly strife Freshly recals those Loues and graces rife Which from my sweete saluations conduict bled These haue true zeale to my faithes refuge led So that no torture fagot crosse or knife Can seuer mee sequestred from thy flocke I feare no Pagan Schismaticke nor Iewe No worldly menaces can teare that Rocke Of my faithes Adamant assur'de and true But for that truth I thousand deathes would dy To liue ten thousand liues immortally SONNET LXXX A Blast of winde a momentarie breath A watrie bubble simbolizde with ayre A sonne blowne Rose but for a season fayre A ghostly glaunce a skeleton of death A morning dew perling the grasse beneath Whose moysture Sunnes appearance doth impaire A lightning glimse a Muse of thought and care A Planets shot a shade which followeth A voice which vanisheth so soone as heard The thriftlesse heire of time a rowling waue A shew no more in action then regard A Masse of dust worlds momentarie slaue Is man in state of our olde Adam made Soone borne to die soone flourishing to fade SONNET LXXXI BEhold by misaduenture how the winde From earth blowes dust and it in ayer scatter And if therefore the very smallest matter Thine eye the bodies Iewell in some kinde Doe but by