all mortalls with her nightly dreames Does with her curled mantle and her charmes Inchant my soule to slumber in her armes Thus lull'd in woe to misery I went As hearses march to their dull monument 7 Oh why does the Almighty hedge us round Can this base earth be lower than the ground The lightfoot Roe-buck with his threatning horne Swallowes the ground up and his eyes do scorne The swift pursuer we inclos'd about Where food cannot get in nor Famine out What griefe or sorrow do I not possesse In chaines of darknesse woe and heavinesse 8 The helplesse Infant who with griefe is prest Seekes Sanctuary in his mothers brest And where should hungry soules direct their cry But to the Pallace of eternity And yet O Lord how oft do we Implore Reliefe of thee for we are wondrous poore But when our torments make us cry aloud Thou wrapst thy glory in a gloâ—my cloud 9 The prison is most dreadfull to the eye Of the sad soule that weares Captivity About his shackled heeles the gingling chaine Afflicts the prisoners memory with paine Thus we are captiv'd ah what shall we do Incles'd inchained and imprisoned too My soes my blowes my crooked ruin'd waies Cuts off with scosse the number of my dayes 10 Can endlesse love be angry will wrath never Be pacified will it live for ever In the Almighties bosome and his mind Ne're harbour pitty but be still unkind Against his chosen people thus to teare Like a sierce Lion or a surious beare Why doth thy Rod in secret places lye Alas poore we are ever in thine eye 11 Thus vain is worldly pompe the slourishing crown Of earthly glory must be trampled downe The shadowed beauty of mans little world Survives a moment then away 't is hurl'd Into a mist of nothing all my waies Are turned backward and my numerous daies Are now cut shorter thus to ev'ry Nation By sin comes ruine death and desolation 12 The skilfull Archer with his threatning hand Drawes forth his Arrow and his eyes doe stand Full fixed on the Marke his furious breath Sends early summons of ensuing death Unto the thing he aimes at so even so My angry God hath bent his angry Bow Where shall I hide me Oh the world 's too narrow To hide a mortall from his flying Arrow 13 'T is vaine my trembling heart for to endever To take thy selfe to flight for that can never Save thee a minute from his flying Dart 'T will quickly reach thee Oh my dying heart His winged shafts have hit me Oh the paine Of a sad wounded Soule on earth how vaine A thing is Pleasure Pride and Profit why Doth man so hug deceitfull Vanitie 14 Scoffe on my angry Foes and let your wiles Be painted over with deceitfull smiles Be merry Gallants let your Laughter rise With Tones of Musick to the lostie Skies Drinke Healths to Sions Ruine and yet know This is the Churches glory and thy woe No Kingdome 's conquer'd but it is by losse No Saint is crowned but he weares the Crosse 15 Urge me no more my soule is fill'd with Gall And bitter-tasted Wormewood Is this all The joy that Earth can yeeld Oh what delusion Hath lying Vanities to bring confusion Upon a tott'ring soule A flatt'ring Kisse Of Earth robs man of everlasting blisse Thus Folly is exalted for a Toy Poore short-liv'd man doth part with endlesse Joy 16 Mans Worke is vaine his Treasure is but travell Man pines in paine his Greatnesse is but gravell We fast we famish too these are our mones Our teeth in stead of food are broke with stones Thus doe we suffer by th'immediate hand Of Heaven and the beautie of our Land Is turn'd a heape of ashes while we have On Earth no Heritance but in the Grave 17 Thus my o'r-whelmed Soule beeame a stranger To Joy and Peace and dwelling neere to danger I sometimes taught my most discensolate heart These following words Ah tim'rous flesh why art Thou fill'd with feares the time is almost heere When thy Redemption Sion draweth neere My Soule forgat her songs for glory dyes Like shining Glo-wormes to benighted eyes 18 Ah sinfull soule hath Sathan got such scope Of mans bad reason that there is no hope Not trust thy God fond Mortall did thine eye Or eare perceive him ever falsifie With his poore Creatures but he succour sent Go rocky heart away thou monument Cut out of marble do not hurt my sence With unbeliefe with shame and diffidence 19 And yet 't was reason when I call'd to mind The monstrous earthquakes and the huffling wind Which turned Israels glory upside downe And gave the foes the honour of the Crowne That I should weep when I remembred all The bitter wormwood and the poysonous gall Weep gentle heart pumpe from my watry eyes The silent streames of mourning Elegies 20 My soule is sad indeed 't is truest moane When the poore Orphane sits and grieves alone Alone said I ah me I need not we Have thousand spirits more in misery Whose burdened sorrowes overwhelme their kind What are our words alas they are but wind Only remembring mine afflictions they Shall humble me in this my cloudy day 21 The Malefactour smiles to thinke on favour From the sterne Judge Sinners have a Saviour Yet they are alwaies angry and cast downe As if their glory were in earths base Crowne A Crown what if thou hast a Crown earths glory Is various vaine false and transitory Considering this sad heart thou hast good scope To rest thy tired selfe and live in hope 22 I cannot hold my heart must needs confesse Be witnesse endlesse love judgements were lesse Then our transgressions when they cried aloud To the high heavens and earths darkned cloud Lookt angry at our solly oh if thou Shouldst blast us into nothing even now Our soules should justifie thee ' cause poore we Know heaven lov'd us from eternity 23 As oft as Phoebus lights the darkned skies With mourning raies dazling all mortals eyes With fulnesse of his glory Writers say A blushing Evening brings a Sun-shine day Even thus our Sun spreads-forth Caelestiall wings Of brightest glory and away he flings Those hasty mists of darknesse which infold The tried Silver and corrupts the Gold 24 But Heaven is my Soules portion and my part Filling the vastnesse of my Soule my heart Cannot containe the treasure of this wealth 'T is sick of Love and yet in perfect health Glory and honour doth attend the man With highest joy that hath this Dowrie can There be a lack though Famine be so neere Feare darkneth Faith and Faith destroyeth Feare 25 The tyred Traveller in Summer dayes Seekes for some cooling shade to keepe the rayes Of hot Apollo from his fainting head When flaming Phoebus and his firie Steeds Are in their high Careere the Dog-starre flyes Barking with heat through Heavens Canopie Christ is this cooling shade his Kingly mind Rewards the worker he that seekes shall find 26 Thrice happy Traveller that
hollow-hearted therefore is forsaken And in the dust doth Sions honour lye To be a Proverb for the passers by Who is more slighted and who more revil'd Then the bad Servant or the stubborne Child If Heavens Children disobedient be Their sure reward is Earths indignitie 46 The looks of Envie and the mouth of Fame Act both their hatefull Parts to wound and shame Our Soules Oh this unwelcome howre Why is our glory in th' enemies powre And what can we expect from these our foes But wry-mouth'd slander slaverie and blowes Oh Lord deliver us from th' enemies hand And blast their malice with a counter-mand 47 May not the first suffice Feare and a Snare Alas it is enough what mortall dare Challenge a single Duel with these here Feare brings a Snare and Snares begetteth Feare The next is Hate and Ruine and these be The foure Contrivers of our Tragedie Lord strike the Epilogue and change the Stage And make a Golden of our Iron Age. 48 As when Apollo doth his glory shroud Behind the Curtaine of some darkned Cloud The Ayre lamenting Phoebus absence poures Upon the Earth some drops of weeping showres Thus doth our Sunne set and our sorrowes rise Darkning the light of our benighted eyes And makes our floud-gates send forth showrie streames For the sad losse of Heav'ns illustrious beames 49 Will not the Heavens cleare and will the Day Ne'r break these chaines of Night and come away Why doth this Cypresse Girdle often bind The circled world Ah are we still confin'd To sit in these darke shadowes Must our teares Be still as constant as our nightly feares Our eyes are springs whose streams can never stay Rise sweet-fac'd Phoebus rise and bring the Day 50 Although my heavie heart be thus opprest Although my tott'ring soule be kept from rest Although mine eyes with looking up are blind Although my miserie hath o'rwhelm'd my mind Yet Lord cast but a splendour from thy Throne My heart shall cease to grieve my soule to groane Mine heart my mind my tongue and memorie Shall all in one set forth thy Majestie 51 The eye is but the prospect of the heart A little member yet it doth take part Of ev'ry sorrow and our inward griefe The eye relenting doth implore beliefe The heart is hid so are our secret feares But the eye shewes them with its gushing teares What my still troubles are mine eyes doe speake And were it not for teares my heart would breake 52 Run not so fast O ye my following Foes Let me a little breathe betweene your blowes Strike not so thick on my disarmed head Let not your cruell hate so farre be led To bring me as a Bird into Deaths snare Let me have freedome howsoe'r I fare Let me but serve my God in his high Hill And doe your worst my Foes doe what you will 53 Pride and Presumption did me once commit To the low Dungeon where my soule did sit Inveloped in darknesse and cold clay Not making diff'rence 'twixt the night and day And on the mouth of which they cast a stone To keepe me sure or fearing that my mone Should reach the eares of Heaven thus their doome Interr'd and layd me in Earths hollow'd wombe 54 Th' aspiring surges of the swelling Ocean That sometimes kisse the Clouds whose motion Is backt with Thunder Ship and men First tost up toward Heaven then agen They come as swiftly downeward to the brinke Sometimes they soare aloft and sometimes sinke Sometimes my Faith did blow a pleasant gale Till I was sinking then my Faith did faile 55 Out of the bowels of Earths hollow'd Wombe I sometimes whisper'd Ah is this my Tombe Am I interr'd in Earth and am I sent To lye for ever in this Monument Ah hath the Lord forgot his grace and why Doth wrath so long lodge in th' Almighties eye Breathe joy to my sad Soule dear Lord thy breath Gives light in darknesse and a life in death 56 How unbelieving is the heart of man How base and fearefull and how vaine who can Know the delusions that are lodged there How farre from Faith how full of slavish feare My Soule can witnesse Lord thou hear'st my crie What need I then use this tautologie But that it strengthneth Faith which would decay The more thou promisest the more wee 'l pray 57 Love Power and Feare did all at once agree In a low heart to make a harmonie First Love doth cloath the Soule with sweetnesse and Heav'n gives base Earth a pow'rfull countermand And therefore riseth as a Lion strong And thus proclaimes Who dares to offer wrong To this most am'rous Soule while Heav'n is here Blest is the heart where dwels Love Powre and Feare 58 The valiant Champion whose deeds may claime A share of Honour and the breath of Fame His Truth and Valour hath no other Lawes For the desending of the weaker Cause But love to Faith and Vertue even thus Heav'n makes his Name on Earth most glorious By blowing of our dangers and our harme With power and wonder from his Warlike Arme. 59 My Lord I 'm wrong'd th' accused Prisoner cryes Th'Indictment's false th' envious Witnesse lyes You know my Lord the man tells nothing true I will appeale to Heaven and to you Yet may the blinded Judge against the Lawes Hang the poore Prisoner and condemne his Cause But Lord thou art a Witnesse of our state Our Judge our Father Friend and Advocate 60 Rocks cannot save thee nor high mountaines hide thee Seas will not have thee nor the Earth abide thee Day not adorne thee darknesse not protect thee Thy foes will scorne thee and thy friends reject thee Night cannot hide thy black-mouth'd malice nay Thy mistie mid-night's like the midst of day And if the glorious day shall shew my wrong It is not long to day it is not long 61 And as the dazling beames of Heav'ns bright eye Rising aloft in his high Majestie Discov'reth all disasters which are hurld With shades of darknesse in the mantled world Ev'n so my God thy piercing eye thine care Is quick in seeing and most swift to heare Thou seest their consultations judge my Cause By the true tenor of thy righteous Lawes 62 Ah foolish enemie why dost thou wrong Thy silly selfe I know thy envious tongue Would poyson those whose actions God doth love But they this piece of hatred are above Thy plots or black complyance O thou Drone What needst thou whisper when thy heart is knowne But yet goe on thou shalt not lose thy hire In th' infernall Lake of furious fire 63 Doth mirth become a foole it is not fit They should be merry that have got no wit Did I say wit 't is wisdome that I meane There may be wit where wisdome ne'r was seene If wisdome were with wit their Songs would be Not drest with Lines of non-sence Poetrie Sing on vaine Drunkards laugh your merry jeeres I doubt will change there is a time for teares 64 Reward
is deformitie their power Is weake and in few waste and flying houres The hope of Earths eternitie's cut off The Land is lost the Kingdome is a scoffe To the wide Universe their Comedie Is metamorphos'd to a Tragedie Their highest dignitie is disregarded Their wisdome slighted honour unrewarded What Nation fought with greater braverie Then warlike Isr'el which their foes slaverie Could often manisest what Valour might Be matcht to theirs while in each bloudie fight Each long'd to be the formost to inga … A troupe of Lyons in their rampant rage Was a poore sigure of their noble hearts While Heav'n was darkned with those numerous darts That flew along the Ayre backt with the breath Of Furie and each Arrow ript with Death There might you heare the wounded Heathen crie To their false gods while that the blashing Skie Did eccho their implorement th' Earth being hid With heaps of murthred Heathens here a head Lyes tumbling while the base unwor thy braine Is found too foolish to be knit againe Unto the for lorne shoulders or complie In any Plot or trecherous Villanie Not farre from that there lyes a Hand and Arme With signes of peace too feeble for a harme Against poore Sion there a Leg doth lye Which should have serv'd his Master for to flye To some strong Rock of Resuge now the day Hath crost his speed he cannot run away There was brave Gallantry in Israels eye Each strove with honour who the first should dye Fighting on heapes of their bemang led foes They made renowne to wait upon their blowes Where in the Clouds of Darts with winged speed Death gallop'd through the Armies with a Reed To measure out the Graves of them which hee Had sent to wander to eternitie Thus valiant Israel who now doth yield Hath slaine their threescore thousand in a field While Heav'n did ead them then high Isr'els name Rode on the wings of everlasting faâ—…e The Starres did light in order and the Moone Stood still and in the 〈◊〉 height of Noone Swâ—ft Phoebus did his 〈◊〉 Horses stay From t … Careere and length'â—ed out the day To see those games of Death p … y'd where each blow Fore-told the enemie of his ov … hrâ—w But where 's that Valour nâ—w that Royaltie So quickly turn'd into 〈◊〉 What slav'd themselves 〈…〉 serve ev'n them Which once were servants to Jerusalem What must their Crowne be vail'd must they goe downe While Heathens arch their temples with their Crowne ' Are they subdued by the Conquered And must the blind man by the blind be led If this be true this Motto then makes knowne Thy power was Heavens Sion not thine owne And hadst thou been obedient to his will Thy warlike arme might have subdued still Those thy unconquer'd foes then like a Bride Heaven would have guarded lov'd and dignifi'd His owne peculiar people then his Arme Would have imbrac'd thee and have banisht harme From these thy ruin'd Borders then his Eye Had lov'd thee with Celestiall jealousie Ah holy Land if thou wert ruin'd thus How shall we fare what shall become of us If thou wert smitten as the Prophets pen Doth manifest we monumonts of men Drunke with the wine of solly how shall we Escape from a more dolesome Tragedie I often reade Israel was of one minde But Englands wayes are wav'ring like the winde Israel was circumspect and serious But England blinde unconstant various Their Armies fought like one one armed man We numerous multitudes of Divisions can We looke for peace in this distracted mould Not knowing who to helpe nor where to hold The Citizens implore the Armies may Disband the valiant Souldier askes his pay Ere he layes downe some foolish fellowes fling Libels abroad of Loyaltie to the King But it is false alas their wicked aime Is to involve the Citie in a flame A fourth Contriver with his shallow crowne Holds best to pull the two Assemblyes downe He rayles against the Peeres and Commons too Reviles them all yet cannot tell you who It is that doth disturbe him others chat Against Divines yet cannot tell for what Another he would have new Members chose And yet he knowes no ill by none of those The rest would have a new Militia hold Yet can they finde no fault against the old Thus in their various mindes and mutinies The people fall to Contrarieties The poore would have Meat at a lower rate But that the Farmers and the Butchers hate Should ever take effect some thinke that Beere Is brew'd too small and that 't is sold too deere But him the Victualler doth soone advise To be content because they pay Excise Another sayes did not the rich men sweepe Up all the Cloth Clothes would be better cheape And him the Clothier presently perswades Wer 't not for these they could not keepe their Trades The Courtier he doth out of zeale defie The Parliament sweares he 's for 's Majestie One cryes him up another cryes him downe A third would have the Prince to wear the Crowne A fourth will none of that sayes 't is a thing Not needfull that there should be any King The Separate rayles at all the Priests attendants The Presbyterian checks the Independants Alas sayes one how could we ever looke For better times since that the holy Booke Of Common Prayer went down then those that went But for a Token had the Sacrament What are we wiser then our Fathers they Without the Service-Booke would never pray But now this fellow 's silenc'd by another That thinks he 's somewhat wiser then the other Quoth he what diff'rence 'twixt the Church and Stable The Service-Booke was most abominable A Librarie sent from Rome wherein was 't rare They pray'd for foule weather when we should have faire And why is humane Learning thus affected The Seribes and Pharises they were neglected By our deare Saviour he cast lovely eyes Upon the simple and refus'd the wise And thus good Reader there is no confusion Like that which hath such strong delusion Of liking and disliking some disprayse The man whom others would have Fortune rayse To high preferment Ah what hath our Lands But double tongues false hearts divided hands And a distracted braine a poys'nous breath Of Envie and a life expecting death Or death in midst of life oh why are wee The onely Monuments of Miserie Most blessed Faith and Love you never varie From your first blessednesse nor act contrarie Unto your blessed Natures from above Love dotes on Faith and Faith ingendreth Love O glorious God thy Saints ne'r disagree In Heav'n when they possesse high dignitie Loves Banner is display'd about thy Throne Thy holy Angels are no more then one But man oh that wretch man is like th' Ocean Who now is calme and hath a gentle motion And in a moment makes his billowes runne Aloft and shoots his surges at the Sunne And since Divisions to destructions tend What followes ruin'd England but her end Cease then oh England from this
should hide Glory From such an honoured Soule which even 〈◊〉 Hath glorify'd from all eternitie And doth he give the Enemie his owne Place Hath God like Janus got a double face Doth the base Enemie so high aspire Whom oft he threatneth with consuming fire Yea and their prosp'rous State does oft redowne To magnifie the honour of Heavens Crowne The Usurer whose back beares all the Curses Of his poore neighbour could he fill his Purses By being godly he would venture too To pray to Heaven as the godly doo And could the base Adulterer bring to passe His filthy ends and meet a hand-smooth Lasse Each Sabbath day at Church this fellow he Would be an ugly hearer constantly The proud man he would make an ugly face And pray and heare if this would give a place Of gaine and honour to his high Ambition Thus holy Writ should serve each base condition But now the glorious Soule which Heaven aspires His heart is warmed by Diviner fires His life is circumspect his blushing face Weares the high ornaments of heavenly Grace This Soule is nobly righteous and it leanes On its Creator in the most extreames If sinne assaults the Soule it soone will flie To the high mansion of Eternitie For its protection there with trembling feares She bathes her bosome with repenting teares The lovely Heaven borne Soule has no false ends The feare of Enemies nor the love of friends Shall ne'r ensnare her from those Joyes above For why th' amorous Soule hath fixt her love Upon her glorious Saviour neverthelesse She oft may sit in woe and heavinesse And be in many an earthly contemplation When Heav'n brings War and Ruine on a Nation Then earthly reasonings may whisper loud When Heaven is cov'red with a sable Cloud Of bloudie War and Famine when they poure Those dismall drops in such a dreadfull Showre On one distracted Kingdome then what way When darknesse does eclipse the light of day Is there for soules to wander when its eyes Are bloudshot to behold those villanies Which bloudy Actors play when War shall reigne In height of envy numerous bodies slaine Imbracing gentle earth when death shall vaile Man in mortality all faces pall Because of hungry famine when the Child For want of friend and food is far exil'd From present necessaries and therefore lies With deaths pale Image in his tender eyes And when heavens darts shall flye like Sim Jim The soule is sad her funerall lights burne dimme When life is turn'd to death and food to feare She sometimes weeps as did the Prophets here Yet with a laden heart and watry eye The soule doth sometimes mutter this reply Unconstant state of earth shall any he That is but dust direct eternitie By his vaine babling can mortall man Guide the Celestiall Orbs by wisdome can He rule the earth by power can he stay The Steeds of Phoebus and tye up the day Nay can he rule himselfe or guid his mind Are not his waies as wavering as the wind And wilt thou teach thy Maker since thy birth What hast thou been thou peece of moving earth What hath thy tottring soule no faith at all Or is thy love to heaven so wondrous small Hath all this Un verse so little rest To give a tired heart and yet possest With love of this low earth my Saviour dy'd That through his death I might be glorified And shall I now resuse to dye for him Hath fin made these darke eyes so quickly dimme No let this earthly man through fire be try'd My soule shall live with him for whom I dy'd Where in the Canopy of his beauteous breast I shall sleep safe with undisturbed rest Have I so little power to controule The assaults of sin and death Alas poore soule Be gone my numerous feares away away After a tempest comes a shining day See see what dazling glory is behind You darkned cloud looke up my muzzled mind Flie on the wings of contemplation see Thy journies end is high Eternity And this deare Reader does most oft redowne To heavens honour when earths troubles drowne The Saints sometimes in sorrow earth 's a toy And this disjunction fits the soule for joy When on the other side if heaven should give A royall Legacie that Saints might live On earth most long and happy then might vice Count heaven a paine and earth a Paradise And if the world should often heare or see That Saints did live in high prosperity Each wretch would turne a Saint for his owne end Looking for earth by making heaven his friend But now go on brave soule do thou contemne All wordly pompe a royall Diadem Shall crowne thy arched browes thy present paine Thou wilt not reckon when thou com'st to raigne Heaven shal receive thee earth shall raise thy name In spight of sinners or their blasted fame And as thy body rests in deaths darke tent This verse shall stand upon thy monument This valiant mortall by a second birth Enjoy'd a Crowne in heaven conquer'd earth CHAP. III. Verse 1. WHerefore should Mortals labour thus to shroud Their publike Sorrow in a darkned Cloud Of Silence Why should Blacknesse cover all The mourning March of Sions Funerall I am the Man of Sorrow and Heavens Marke I am the chasened Bird the early Larke His furious Rod hath seized upon me On me the Monument of Miserie 2 Who ever saw this glorious Eye of Day Eclips'd in Darknesse And this Ball of Clay Wrapt in a Sable Mantle like black Night Covering the world with Mists whose Terrors fright All Mortals in their slumbers Thus mine eyes Dim'd with their teares doe weepe whole Elegies Of Lamentations while his hand hath drest My Soule in Troubles banisht from her Rest 3 My Soule is sad enough I need no more Such change of Torments then I had before I need no other Foe to come and slay My dying selfe and why then all the day Does my incensed Lord against me stand Why at a Mortall doth he turne his hand What will he fight with Earth Alas before Much time is spent we shall be seene no more 4 How soone is Beautie lost and Natures Booke Quite blotted out and with an earthly looke Departs this troubled world soone broke as Glasse The fleshes Glory is but withering Grasse Sinne brings in Sorrow Griefe makes Beautie old The Drosse is intermingled with the Gold The least of Heavens displeasure if he frowne It is enough to bring Earths Glory downe 5 Dull piece of feeble Earth and mortall Man A shew of something yet art nothing can Th' Almightie not consume thee lest he shall Build up a Worke against a tott'ring wall What meanes th' Almightie hand of the most high Thus to surround us whose mortalitie Will bring us soone to Dust each day we fall Insnar'd with Sorrow Bitternesse and Gall. 6 Times black hair'd daughter night that locks all eies And hearts in silent slumbring lullabies This swarthy nurse with darke and horrid theames That frights
this journey made To seeke a shelter in this pleasant shade What greater portion on the Earth then this And in the Heavens what higher Paradise Mortals y' are cousen'd worldly Wit and Strength Pride and Vaine-glory failes poore man at length Where then is sure protection from all harmes I le tell thee where 't is in th' Almighties armes 27 The Warlick Horse whom Nature doth bedeek With strength and vigour and his thundring neck Is drest with youth and fortitude his eye Sends furious summons to the enemie While strength is in his loynes his courage can Breathe out defiance to the armed man 'T is good in youth to taste afflictions losse He that wil weare the Crown must bear the Crosse 28 Canst thou be silent when thy God is neere Canst thou be sad and hast no cause of feare Canst thou be dazled with thy sinnes reflection Canst thou be fearfull when thou hast protection Why dost thou mourne for Sions miserie Pride was the Prologue to her Tragedie Rather then murmure for deserved ill Close thy lips ever Soule be silent still 29 A Child of Heaven early doth begin To honour vertue and to trample sin Under his carelesse feet his scornefull eye Takes but slight notice of Earths vanitie Sweet-fac'd Humilitie is Honours Mother He that hath one will quickly have the other They both are matcht with Glory happy he That comes to Honour by Humilitie 30 Is it such honour to be humble then Are mourning mortals most the happiest men Where lyes their glory sayes the world for we See no such honour in humilitie Th' are ' tyr'd with rags and they are fed with feares Reproaches scandals and the peoples jeeres And is this honour yea and this story Is the Saints evidence for highest glory 31 Time darkeneth the Skyes Time brings the Day Time glads the eyes Time puffes all joy away Time builds a Kingdome Time o'rthrows a Nation Time writes a storie of their desolation Time hath a time when Time shall be no more Time makes some rich and Time makes rich men poore Time is when God will be his Churches friend When Times eternitie shall never end 32 For though fond man thou taste afflictions sorrow This gloomie ev'ning joy will come to morrow Indeed a night or two thy sorrowes may Eclipse thy glory but a shining day Will soone appeare to glad thy longing eyes Like shining Phoebus in the blushing Skyes Man shall finde mercie sinners may intrude To rest their soules in mercies multitude 33 The chafing Horse breaks through th'armed Ranks With his proud Rider and his bleeding flanks Are witnesses of haste his courage brave At last is cool'd and measureth out his grave Upon the bloudie earth thus we begin Rid by vain-glory and spurr'd on with sin To break Heav'ns high Command so Death is just Our pride and honour lyeth in the dust 34 And yet his blessings are farre more then blowes Men use to trample downe their conquer'd foes Under their Horses fetlocks few will give Their wounded enemie an houre to live Yet Israels God whose high victorious hand Can crush the sinfull pris'ners of the Land Into a piece of nothing still his strife Is but to give dead man eternall life 35 Have we a Right to these Terrestriall Toyes And yet a Title to Celestiall Joyes This is on Earth and that above the Skies The first the Promise and the last the Prize He that hath this will quickly have the last Glory comes posting when our griese is past If God denie us not this Earthly Ball He 'll give us Heaven which is best of all 36 He takes no pleasure when he doth subvert The Cause of man nor doth it glad his heart To over-turne a mortall in his pride He takes no glory for to blow aside The prosp'rous state of man it is his badnesse That brings him miserie when he may have gladnesse If sinne brings sorrow then and blindnesse blowes Blame thy bad deeds O man they are thy foes 37 What King can clip the flying wings of Time With all his Majestie Although he climbe Unto the top of Honour can his Power Stay swift-foot Phoebus chafing Steeds an houre To wait upon him Or what Prince can say I le bring to passe my purpose the next day Unlesse the Lord command these earthly things The least is higher then the reach of Kings 38 The world shall passe away and all therein Shall be no more as if they had not bin As if they never were they all shall fade They all were moving since they first were made Each word of God is good and there 's no Clause Of threatning ruine in those righteous Lawes To him that keeps those blest Commands for he Reward shall have unto eternitie 39 Why weep'st thou then O man why doth thine eyes Implore reliefe with watrie obsequies Why dost thou teach thy heavie heart to mourne In silent corners why dost thou adorne Thy Soule in sable weeds why dost thou dresse Thy selfe in sorrow woe and heavinesse Oh why complainest thou it is thy sin Barres out thy joy and bringeth judgements in 40 Search ev'ry corner of thy selfe sad Soule Trie all thy actions let not darknesse roule Thee in her lulling armes but now imbrace The glorious purchase of Heavens proffred grace Yet mourning Soule returne yet sinner wake From thy securitie goe hie thee take Thy well-prepared vension Heaven will stay And double blesse thee ere he part away 41 The Sunne being set all mortals goe to rest Our sorrow rises then each soule 's possest With feare and horror and each man complaines Of mightie losses and of little gaines We lift our hands to Heaven sometimes for aid We cast our eyes up when we are afraid But when doe Hearts and Hands and Eyes agree With Faith and Love Truth and Sinceritie 42 Oh Sinne my fatall Foe how bad is gaine Contracted from thee pleasure is but paine How false is sinners joy their Mines are mosse Their worke is toylesome yet their labour's losse Their blossome's blasted with a minutes breath Their light is darknesse and their life is death Sinne doth destroy the glorious Soule for why The Soule that sinneth shall be sure to die 43 Ah me how quickly doth this house of man Decay his wayes are like a feathred fan Which wav'reth with the wind his strength prime Is wondrous weake and his swift-posting time Is very short though sometimes he be high Like a tall Cedar which doth dare the Skie And swelleth in his pride a little Rub Of ficknesse makes the Cedar but a Shrub 44 Where shall we hide us is there ne'r a mountaine To o'r-shadow us or a pleasant fountaine For tyred Soules to bathe in while the Cloud Of Thunder is blowne over may we shroud Our Soules in no protection while our teares Shall wash our bosomes and invite the eares Of Heav'n to listen that our cryes may be Lodg'd in the Palace of Eternitie 45 Th'glory is departed Israels Land is taken Judah's
and alas 'T is so indeed how came these things to passe Oh how mine eyes could send a floud of teares To wash this Paper while my deafened eares Are rouz'd with this allarum which is hurld By heavens appointment through the circled world But shall we thinke God is unjust in this To scourge his Children if they do amisse If the wide world had not some sufferings sure The lives of Nations would be too secure Yet heaven's not easily mov'd to send his Rod 'T was Israels sins offended Israels God But if the best of Saints so ill do fare Where shall the crue of damned Sinners share But in eternall darknesse whose black Tombe Shall scare the first but give the last their doome Go on then Sinners plunder kill and spoile Those harmelesse Lambes it is but for a while The time is wondrons short this Inch of time Thou mayst do much thy swelling heart may clime Unto the top of envy and it may Hazzard eternity in a short lived day Perhaps a yeare may finish up thy Course And then thou Son of Beliall death will force Thy soule to long eternity and thou must thither How will thy trembling knees then knock together When thou shalt know Death summons thee to dye With thoughts of torment in Eternity And last of all Is mourning Israels Land So soone subdued by heavens immediate hand Then let not England though the best of three Distempered Lands dreame of security The Nations who possest the aforesaid place Had greater measure of Celestiall grace And yet they were destroy'd can there be peace In Englands Borders unlesse sin doth cease Turne to thy God O England lest his hand Doth overturne the glory of the Land The black mouth'd Swearer he doth rend in sunder His Makers Name with Oaths like claps of thunder The proud mans scornefull eye does hate to see His beggered Neighbour falne in misery The lives of Harlots in their capring Schooles Are kept by young men Natures blinded Fooles The covetous muckworme he himselfe hath sold To live in service to the God of Gold A little after comes his Son and he Throwes all away in prodigality Wonder of wonders why 's not Englands glory As dim as Sion's made a bloudy Story For other Lands to read her downfall why Doth sin survive and yet not England dye Why is not London that was sometimes famous To the wide Universe now held as hainous As was poore Sion ah her sins abound Why dyed she not when she receiv'd a wound In the last fatall War why has this place So much of blessing and so little grace Why doth not fier range in every street Methinkes 'twere just that Sword and Famine meet While War did tumble all our Bulworkes down And strangers get the glory of the Crowne Indeed 't were just it should so while that we Are lull'd asleep in sad security The Prophet here laments his weeping eyes Are washt with teares because the miseries Of Sion was approaching often he Was bath'd in teares for their calamity But we so far from pittying of our Land Thus sunke in sin that with a mighty hand We adde unto her woe by sin and thinke The eye of heaven doth but sit and winke Oh glorious God who art that holy one Lovely in beauty whose most royall Throne Is borne by winged Cherubins most high Where mighty Angels praise thy Majestie What is this microcosmus what are we That thou O Lord shouldst take felicity In weake and feeble man whose borrowed breath Doth every minute journey to his death Why shouldst thou labour with this peece of earth Thus to protect him whose abortive birth Doth but begin his woe yet sleeps secure The Sun the Moone and Starres are too impure In thy most glorious eyes then what is man But a deserver of black Hellican Yet oh our God which art the King of Kings Lord of earths Territories our pleasant things Did all come downe from thee England did flourish When thy Almighty Arme so long did nourish And did so long protect us death and feare Were strangers to our Borders we were deare In thy beloved eyes but ah our woe Was our rebelion and our overthrow Is from our selves our blasted Land had been Counted earths Paradise but that for sin Yet Lord unite the Kingdomes let them be No more a Stage for that dull Tragedie We feare is yet to play Let it once cease And sound us now a harmony of peace One Act is past along oh let thy hand Give to the rest a powerfull countermand And let us now be lead by truth and love Those amorous Sisters which do dwell above And in the Lawes of love let Englands face Be drest with ornaments of blushing grace And then the last of our harmonious Sceanes Shall tell the world what 't is the Gospell meanes Those faithfull labourers in this Vineyard shall Advance the worke with hearts heroicall The Epilogue is joy which ends the Play The Church begins to see a happy day Her steps are lovely sorrowes have their date For love doth conquer envy governe hate CHAP. II. Verse 1. HOw soon is glory dimme the Lord doth shrowd The face of Sion with a darkened cloud His anger darkneth Iudahs borrowed light And her bright glory is as black as night Her beauty is deformed and that eye Where sat enthroned Princely Majesty It quite extinguish'd and the angry hand Or heaven hath spoyl'd the pleasant promis'd Land 2 The Lord hath mixed gall in Iudahs cup And in his fury he hath swallowed up The strength of Sion and her famous City Is turn'd to ashes for he had no pity Upon poore Sion all her holds are humble To his high hand her high battlements tumble To Prince and People folly is imputed And the proud Enemy has the Land polluted 3 The Lord hath cut Ierusalems strength and horne And all the treasure that did once adorne The royall Land of Israel's batter'd downe His countenance he masked with a frowne He hath withdrawne his warlike hand whereby The Campe of Israel made their Enemies flie But now his anger burneth round about The Land of Iacob who can put it out 4 And as an Archer bends his angry Bow To do some ruine suddenly even so He scattereth his Arrows which do vary His right hand threatneth as an Adversary And ev'ry thing on which the curious eye Did take a prospect did by Famine dye The house wherein they call'd upon his name Is levell'd even by a surious flame 5 What wrong can Mortalls do their fury high Is a weake blast but ah mine Enemy Is my offended Lord his wrathfull cup Is powred out and he hath swallowed up My Pallaces and holds are levelled he Hath brought my glory into misery He hath increast my sorrows oh mine eyes Pumpe flouds of teares with silent nightly cries 6 And as a flowred Garden barren made So is his Tabernacle quite decay'd And we are now even as a desolate Nation The Lord hath quite
lashes therefore can Another looke for safetie Shall Heavens Child Be lost be lasht rejected and revil'd Of the worlds Peacocks and shalt not thou A sinner feele the furrowes of his brow See how their Land 's defac'd their Wives defil'd How Famine kills and brings the hungry Child To his untimely grave whose friends are lost Virgins are ravisht new borne Infants tost Upon the souldiers Speares the women ript Up great with Child and so the Babe is stript From th' Bed of his Creation Elders lyes Having Deaths prospect in their aged eyes Imbracing lowly Earth with teares to trave A little favour to finde out their Grave See while their Citie burnes their eyes are drown'd In streames of flowing 〈◊〉 they doe abound In fulnesse yet have wane oh aske not why They long for life and yet they wish to die The tend'rest love is mixed now with hate They 're full of people yet are desolate They have some pleasure yet it â—s but paine Their gaine is losse and yet their losse is gaine For from the thirtie Verse of this third Chapter Our eares sometimes may drinke a heav'nly rapture From the harmonious Spheres which even then Dropt downe these Elegies from the Prophets pen And tells the world that Heav'n takes no delight To over-turne a mortall from his right On Earth it is his wicked sinfull wayes That brings in Death to cut his short-liv'd dayes Thus Love is mixt with anger sweets with sowre Joy midst of sorrow weaknesse matcht with powre Honey is mingled with our poys'ned gall Love with our Lashers Love's the cause of all Love 's in our labour Love is in our losse Love weares the Crowne and Love must beare the Crosse Love makes our Union Love's in our division Love's our direction Love 's in our derision Love's in prosperitie Loves in disaster Love is our servant and yet Love 's our Master Love seemes to be a foe yet Love 's a friend Love did begin our woes and Love will end Our dismall dangers Love commenc'd the fray And Love will turne our Night to shining Day Our Land had been too too unfortunate Like ruin'd Sion but that Love doth wait Upon the hand of Justice and is Crown'd Love gives a Salve when Justice gives a Wound What need we then grudge at Calamitie What is Mortalitie to Eternitie Since our best actions are but gilded ayre And words are wav'ring winde is it so rare For us to suffer trouble doe we merit With our Rebellion that we should inherit The Palace of high Glory and not thinke That Me … s eyes will shut Love somtimes winks To trie our pâ—rchas'd Graces and to know Our best of carriage in the worst of woe But what 's the cause then that the Prophâ—t here In the tumultuous stormes of trembling feare Doth pray against his foes what is it well To crie our worst of enemies downe to Hell Yea it is well not as they are to us Disquiet hatefull base malicious For here in stead of soes they are our friends While they conduct us to our journeyes ends The best and neerest way and then our brest Doth more imbrace that undisturbed rest In swelling soft eternitie beside Our strength of faith could not so well be try'd As by the force of envie but as he Which is our foe is Heavens enemie We ought to beg for his soone dissolution For his conversion or for his confusion Even so let them all perish let each foe O Lord be dasht with one one finall blow From thine Almightie Arme as thou hast made Them moving shadowes so much like a shade Let them soone vanish let thine enemies die And be forgot like their loath'd memorie And then oh then when the world shall behold The Drosse is purged from the purest Gold Which once was intermingled then each knee Shall bow unto thy sacred Majestie With lowly adoration and thy Name Shall be exalted with eternall fame And with a low incomparable grace Thy Saints shall sing in thy most holy place Those ravisht Halelujahs though we here Doe bathe our silent bosomes with a teare CHAP. IV. Verse 1. HOw dull's the finest Gold how quickly dim Is the bright Glory of that Diadem That once adorn'd Jerusalems Browes in State Where is the King the Priest and Potentate Her Priests do faint and in each corner swound Those orient Pearles are scatt'red on the ground As if they were most needlesse high and low Doe all fall blasted to compleat our woe 2 Where are those Noble Worthies Fame presents Sonnes of high honour Natures ornaments And Sions glory in whose serious eye Knowledge was seated in high Majestie To judge each loose offender Ah me may Such Clouds of Thunder now be Clods of Clay Can the high Potter make such Vessels poore Away vaine honour and delude no more 3 Is Love and Nature banisht and exil'd Can the fond Mother once forget her Child She can and will she does Oh wondrous strange How doth the Glory of Jerusalem change The carelesse Ostridge and the swinish Bore The poys'nous Dragon and the Lyons rose For lack of food yet give their young the brest But Famine lulls these Babes to endlesse rest 4 Alas poore Babe why doth thy dying soule Strive to live longer and thy heart controule Deaths summons to the grave whose ashie hand Shall passe thy soule into the promis'd Land His tongue is parcht with thirst he cannot speake He would implore some Bread but none wil breake It to his pining soule at last his eye Is clos'd in slumbring endlesse Lullaby 5 How is our labour Alchymiz'd to losse How is our Gold and Silver turn'd to drosse How is our Beautie metamorphos'd how Doth furious Famine furrow up our brow He that did feed in Silver dranke in Gold Now starv'd for hunger almost pin'd with Cold And she that once could boast of honor'd birth Lyes now imbracing of her Mother Earth 6 And is there nor a Cause oh wretched wee That we are follow'd with Calamitie Are not our sinnes more great then Sodomes Cryes Which pierc'd the Ayre and fill'd the Azure Skyes With Clouds of dreadfull Thunder Goods and Names In the descending and aspiring flames Were burnt to ashes in a hastie howre By the Almighties unresisted powre 7 Those comely Nazarites whose lovely faces Resembled Snow inricht with am'rous graces Of uncontroubled Love and were more red Then polisht Saphir on whose hoarie head Were threds of tangled Gold in stead of haire Where Love united Art Neglect and Care Love Art and Beautie Honour Grace and Wit Were the indowments of a Nazarite 8 How quickly are they blasted even now Deformitie hangs lurking on that brow That was a while so faire now black as coales Pin'd with the anguish of their hungry soules Love is deformed Grace is unregarded Wisdome despised Honour unrewarded Their skin is with'ted now the Nazarite he Is a black embleme of Deformitie 9 There are degrees in Death yet all doe tend To usher man unto his