speed seemes more slack than his desier He runs and runing thinkes his feet but slow Not dreaming to what misery they goe And who knowes would he say but that she stayes Expecting me and for my coming prayes For saints their longings haue t' was true he sayd She for their euerlasting meeting prayd Arriud he strait sends forth his busye spyes Hoping to see those long-since-closed eyes Too bright for earth to looke on They by chance In their retourne vpon a small caue glance Which in the maine rocke by no mortal taught Nature art's Mistrisse curiously had wrought And in the natiue stone had framd a doore Two lights aboue beneath a pummizd flooer Stord with a pleasant fountaine fruite and shade Which to the spring a goodly palme tree made His heart with ioy beates and his willing feet Run their supposed happinesse to meet For t' was a place which he with reason ghest Heauen had prepard for such a heauenly guest Enterd he findes her kneeling with a face Which yet retaind it's former zeale and grace Tho motion lesse depriud of sence and breath The sweetest picture that erê grac't pale death Here first seen smiling her ioynd hands applyed T'a crucifix which in the rockes maine side Her bodkin had not without forme designd Tho much lesse perfect than it in her mind The monke admires her zeal and loath to break Her soules imagind rapt forbears to speake But his impatient ears grudge that delight Bad councellors which onely blest his sight And longing to inioy her heauenly voyce Their maister vrge first with some litle noyse Of bootelesse sighes then in a louder tone As from a soule much suffering to groane All fayling to her keye-cold feet he creepes Where with good cause tho yet vnknown he weepes Too hasty lippes ah whiles you kisse you kill And guiltlesse heart with deadly horrors thrill Yet lipps may erre his handes must also feele Those sacred soales as cold as starke as steel Stiff were her handes her nostrils without breath All certain tokens of a certaine death His sorrow is too great to find a vent With drye eyes on that doleful obiect bent He stands more sencelesse than the sencelesse stone The growing rocke had some life he had none And life-lesse might to this day haue remaind Had not her pure soule of her spouse obtaind That her bare corpse exposd to open view Might by his means receaue it 's mortal dew Heauen his lost senses to their place restores And he his misery in words deplores Which no pen can expresse but most he grieues That he expressely sent as he beleeues To leaue her story and immortal fame To after-times had not inquir'd her name For it through chance or rather hidden fate He had forgot to aske she to relate A new doubt how to bury her expelles The former and her blessed name reueales For whiles he seekes some toole to breake the ground Her name her age and dying day he found In Syrian characters scord on the sand Eyther by angels or her owne pure hand Hereby he learnes that she had closd her dayes Twelue whole moneths since and yet would think she prayes Such sweet deuotion in her face appears And long-closd lids had he not mist their tears For their dryed channels in her much worne face Were then first markt without those streams of grace This want himself not sparingly supplyes But questionlesse would haue wept out his eyes Had not a more grim obiect and as near Restraind his griefe to make some roome for fear A hydeous lyon on his habit rubbes And trembling sides with harmelesse nostrils grubs Whiles he now pale whith fear amazed stands And stretcheth to the corpse his palsey hands Praying for help the beast with fyery eyes The death pale saints and the whole caue surueyes Then awfully his round walkes with a grace Might make him iudgd of more than mortal race Til at the saint's feet a ful stop he makes And as himself so the whole caue he shakes The monkes white haires with horror bristled stand Whiles he his whole length stretch forth on the sand The rockes themselues with terror seeme to sinke And too weake for so maine a burden shrink The monster couch't his shaggy outside smoothes And dreadful pawes now mildly licking soothes The trembling father with a fawning chear Expelling part both of his griefe and fear Who taking heart thus spoke Thou king of beastes Which neuer breakes thy maker's dreadful hests More blest herein than man since his high will Hath sent the hither in his name ful-fill Thy happy office and dig out a graue T' interre this sacred corpse in it's owne caâ—e The beast with fury flyes to worke and tears The ground vp with his dreadful clawes new fears Assayle the monk's heart least some sparkling stone Should maime the sacred carcasse or his owne So fiercely he earth's craggy entralls riues And round about the litle parlor driues Yet wary in his fury euer keepes That compasse harmelesse where the blest saint sleepes His panting sides with his owne steere he beates Breaths fyêr and ruine to the whol rocke threates His shaggy fleâ—â— waues with his angry wind And stares with horrour quilted he inclind Close to his taske both with his teeth and clawes The harder crags breakes lighter mold with drawes And now inter'd in his owne worke he lyes Yet stil workes on enough the father cryes His furious labours in an instant cease And he by Zozim blest departs in peace Whiles the sad monke in streames of sorrow fleets And her cold limmes in his owne mantel sheetes All rites performd the sacred corse he rears With due respect and to it's mansion beares Where once more at her blessed feet he fel Kist them and weeping tooke his last farewell First throwing in the sand and lighter mold Then shiuerd crags and bigger stones he rold Of which vpon her armes and sacred breast The figure of a homely crosse he drest And paying the last tribut of his tears Retournes to his owne celle where ful of yeares And sanctitye whiles her strange life he writes She him to euerlasting ioyes inuites His soule to heauen his bones to earth retourne And peacefully rest in their natiue vrne Blest payre of saints to whose al honourd shrines My blacke muse addes these late recanting lines Mildly accept of her vnfained zeale And by your prayers strengthen mine appeale From that of iustice to sweet mercy's throne Most blest of sinners not to thee vnknown Mercy it self can not shew more diuine Than by remitting greater sins than thine Disdaine not therefore to prepare a place For my staind soule great sins requyer great grace And mercy calles on mercyes be my guide To those great mercyes which thy self hast tryed That there thy prayse I may for euer sing A laureld poet to a happyêr string Amen Deo gratias
had left markes of it's rage Th' Aegiptian first to this drye gulfe attaind Slipt lightly through and further bank had gaignd When th' old man panting weake and wholy spent Fearful to venture on the rough descent Takes vp yet with his voice pursues the sainct Reiterates with tears his late complaint Coniures hir by hir self those caues that wood The witnesse of hir life by al that 's good In heauen or earth and finding all but vaine Howles and laments his vndeserued paine Then roaring out with doleful out cryes shrilles The channel 's concaue and the hanging hilles From whence redoubled they againe rebound Through ecchoes sad a lamentable sound The holy fugitif mou'd with his tears Replyed at last and thus made known hir fear Time-honourd Zozimas whose life and name I honour from my soule bear with my shame And nakednesse which shuns thy grauer eye And tho vnwilling yet is forc't to flye But if a caytif wretch thou needs wilt grace And longst to see a forlorne sinner's face Lend me thy cloake that clad therein I may Blest with thy blessing praying with thee pray The monke 's amazd to hear his name from one To whom he altogether was vnknowne Yet silently admiring that fore-sight Which he new came from more than human light His mantle throwes which whiles he walkt aside She taking vp about hir shoulders tyed Then to him came he at hir feet adores And benedictiön with teers implores She no lesse humbled prostrat also lyes And craues that which he both craues and denyes So whiles they for each other's blessing striue Both want what both would haue but neyther giue At last th Egiptian thus hir sute renewes And with fresh wonders his assent pursues Father denye not to a wretch that grace Which is most proper to your years and place Your sanctitye and habit your pure hand Which dayly toucheth and hath at command Our God and maker is it self thereby Most blest and'ts blessing should to none denye Zozim abasht replyes with sobs and tears Most blessed mother ah it wel appears That nothing from your knowledge is conceald To whom 〈◊〉 in spirit these things are reueald Happy whose better part to this world dead Is to the bosom of it's maker fled Where your pure soule in his bright eye discouers Those secrets which are onely giuen to louers O since our merits are not iugd by place But by the guifts of his effectual grace Let not your sanctity disdaine to blesse Our more in dignity in goodnesse lesse The Father thus importunately prayed She with compassion moud kneeld vp and sayd Blessed be God who saues the soules of men Then rose and Zozim rising cryed Amen Father saith she loe you haue found at last After much toyle and many labours past A most infortunate creature and one Whose litle goodnesse had you sooner knowne You would not with such earnest zeale haue sought Nor a poore sinner's sight so dearly bought Yet since I thinke you onely were designd By heauens high will these silent shades to find T' impart some pious help which wel I know Your charitable hand is sent to doe About this wretched carcasse pray relate How things are swayd abroad say in what state Th' affaires of Emperours and Christians are How th' holy church and our brethren fare He answer made our mother church long tost With Arrîan stormes long by bad princes crost At last inioyes a calme of wished peace Whiles heresyes and ciuil tumults cease Through your good prayers wherefore let me craue Some part in them since they such power haue Oh if directed by the powérs aboue I hither came nor my poore presence moue Your soule to iust contempt be pleasd to pray For me staind sinner that this tedious way May not be wholy fruitlesse which I tread Ready to make my passage to the dead Pray for the churche whole world and for me craue That I may part securely to my graue Father sayd she not I a sinful wretch But you your purer hands to heauen should stretch For al distressed soules this as our due We from your orders challenge and from you Yet since obedience bids me to fulfil Not what I think most fit but what you wil Loe I obay this sayd she humbly folds Her much-worne knees hir naked hands she holds Stretcht at their ful length to the Orient skye Her soule euen swimming in her fixëd eye Silent she prayes the cause her tears must gaigne Dumb oratours which neuer pleade in vain Vneuitable charmes al-forcing streames Which heauen delighting in with powêrful beames Attracts vnto it self and with such force As euen the compound of hir heauier corse Followes her melting soule and fixt remaines Betwixt heauen's bright arche and earth's spatious plaines Whiles it more light the whirling orbes transcends And to the bosom of it's maker tends Zozim thewhile admiring that high grace And feruour which appeared in her face Now lost in wonder to the low earth sinkes And at his owne lamented coldnesse shrinkes Thumps his bare breast and as he groueling lyes Deplores his owne sinnes and for mercy cryes When loe the slye-fiend prompts him that this might Be some illusion some infernal spright And stickes not wrongfully himself t' accuse Who iustly would not th' old man to abuse Poore man he doubts and whiles he feares deceat Is cosend Satan smiling at his cheate When she whose soule had strayd aboue the sphaeres Retourning to her place perceaud his feares Through the clear glasse of that eternal light Through which al see but see not with such sight Father sayth she what troubled thought is this Which makes you iudge of me and iudge amisse As though I onely made à showe to pray A stumbling-blocke of scandal in your way I am no spirit but true flesh and blood Once white as snow washt in th' al-clensing flood Of holy baptisme now as blacke as shame And sin can dye an euer-tainted fame Here-with her forhead eyes her lips and brest Signing them with a reddy hand she blest Saying o father may our lord preserue Al these poore soules which him would trulye serue From Satan and his sleights Whose hopelesse state Doth not a little grudge our better fate He falling at her feet his owne breast beates And her whole life's relation thus intreates Blest saint whose soule from worldly noyse deuided Is in this wildernesse by angels guided Euen for his sake who for our sakes was borne Of virgin's spotlesse wombe whom raggd and torne The Angels in mount Calûrye saw amazd And on his wounds with admiration gazd For his dear sake I say for whom thou bearst These markes of pennance for whose loue thou wearst This glorious nakednesse oh let-me know What whence thou art and how long t is agoe Since first thou hither camest a heauenly ghest Leauing the world impou'risht of it 's best Oh say and nothing in darke silence fold Which to God's holy honour may be told For this it seemes this tedious
portal fayle Now th out commers th' incommers now preuayle My self like to a bowe-shot arrow flew And borne with equal speed through eyther crow Which way or how I past I can not tell Prostrat before the signe of triumph fel Here feare and horrour springing from the tyde Of ouer-flowing ioye my soule deuide Guilty of it's owne sins a flood of teares Badges of inward sorrow drowne my feares In seas of true content no ioye hath life Compard to this sad ioye this ioye-ful griefe Hence springs true hatred of my former sins Hence heauenly loue with better hopes begins To spreade pure flames and my best part inspires O that a streame of tears should rayse such fyers The marbled flooër groueling I embrac't And cleansd the checkerd flags with kisses chast Then crawling on and kneeling at the foote Of th' holy crosse I bathd it's sacred roote With flowing tears and empty hoales adord Yet with the blood of my redeemer goard Oh what a full content what seas of blisse My soule swam in lost in the vast abysse Of that vnmeasurd loue which for our good Left these sad markes of his much-wasted blood Vnworthy I my sexes shame the worst Of Aegipt's monsters and the most accurst Led by so great a patronesse was free To kisse the foote of his blood-honourd tree And through her fauour made my guilty eyes Partakers of it's glorious misteryes And oh such sweetnesse there such odours felt As none can ghesse the same who haue not smelt A heauenly sent the like no flowrye field Perfumd panchaia nor Sabaea yeeld My harder hart now in warme tears distilles And inward comfort my whole senses thrilles O may al such as are opprest in mind The like relief in true repentance find The brazen gates no-sooner had I past When my whole burden on the green I cast Before the image where I first had prayd And mindful of my former promise sayd Mother of God who doest to none refuse Mercy vnlesse thy mercyes they abuse Through thee I haue this glorious sight obtained Not with a wicked eye to be prophand Through thee I 'le glorifye my God who saues The sinner which through thee his mercy craues What can a wretch say more or more requyre Hauing from thee obtained her hearts desire T' is now my turne blest virgin here I stand Ready t' obserue my vow and thy command O teach me heauen's path yet vnknowne to tread And in the way of truth thy pupil leade This said as I was rising from my prayêr A heauenly voice came through the open ayre Flye to the desart there sad soule repent Beyond the Iordan there find true content My trembling knees on earth againe I fold And out-stretcht hands to heauen's bright arches hold Alme virgin loe here once more I abiure The world and sin thou which art euer pure Mother and mayd if gladly all I leaue And naked to thy dear protection cleaue If readily I follow thy command O doe not thou with-draw thy helping hand But thy poore creature guide preserue defend Til in thy son my selfe and vowes both end Here-with I rose as I departed thence Some charitable man stopt three smal pence In to my hand with which in hast I bought Three penny loafes and by the baker taught The way to Iordan which I was to take With teares the holy citty I forsake The fayling sun yet with a ruddy light I could see glimring on mount Carmel's height When to a litle chappel of St. Ihon Ihon holy Zachary'es more holy son Weary and weake I came this chappel stood Vpon the bankes of the desired flood There as the sun euen hid his sea-drencht beames Handes face and feet I washe in liuing streames The night I spend in prayer and with teares Reade the blacke legend of my sinful yeares Preparing my staind soule with vnfaind griefe The next day to receaue the foode of life Iust heauens be merciful I know I went Vnworthily to this great sacrament O sacred manna fountaine of al good O deified bread o angel's foode Hide me in thy eternal mercyes from The dreadful iustice of thy threatned doome Neuer sicke soule presumd in house prophane So glorious o ghest to entertaine But oh vnsearched treasures boundlesse seas Of mercyes and of goodnesse when I cease Thy mercyes and thy grace to magnifie O let me without grace and mercy dye Neuer sicke soule so lame and impotent So full of horrours which durst yet present I'ts naked inside to that heauenly ghest Receaud more comfort in this sacred feast Than I poore sinher vndeserued grace Did neuer yet more amiably imbrace A leaprous soule restord with angel's foode And cleansed with my God's al-clensing blood The inward ioy and spiritual delight The peace of mind and comfortable light Which liberâlly infused from aboue Fierd my soule with euerlasting loue Were such as should my wordes hope to deliuer My wordes would wrong the bounty of the giuer Alas how oft to solitude confind Haue I since then with holy hungar pind After this blessed food how oft distrest And with the weight of mine owne woes opprest Haue I in agony and hellish dread Sighed for the comfort of this heauenly bread How oft in bitternesse and drought of heart Haue I aspird but to some litle part Of this oreflowing grace this tast of heauen Now to a wretch so prodigally giuen Ah I deserud it not my sinnes were such Rather what then I had was too too much Yet he who knowes both when and how to giue Will when his pleasd a famisht wretch relieue Oh father might a sinner euer pray With such full comfort as I did that day How should we beat our sin's deserued paine Without which heauenly ioyes are hopd in vaine But I the time in mine owne passions spend Wronging your eare which craues my story's end Yet as you see I can not wel let passe This pleasing memory so then I was No lesse vnwilling to forsake the place Wherein vnworthy I receaud such grace From hence about high noone though loth I part More strong more comforted and light of heârt Then euer I had been prone on the bankes Of siluer Iordan I yeeld humblest thankes To my great mistrisse for I must to her All fauours what so ere and guifts referre Her son at her intreatye shal bestowe For al through her that 's giuen to her I owe with tears I craue that she vouch safe t' abate My God's iust wrath whom in such wretched state I had presumd vnworthy to recêiue That he my faulty rashnesse would forgiue Then in his late-tryêd mercyâ—s confident My self and all t' his heauenly will present My prayer ended on the tufted grasse Earth's natif Carpet halfe a loafe I place And sitting downe on Iordan's flowry bed Praysing th' almighty's name I eate my bread My htirst I quench in the vndamagd flood For what I tooke in drinke my tears made good Contented with this sober fare I rise And to the orient skye