Plague among us till it had Our Cities and our Townes unpeopled made Should from their noyâ—omnesse so soone be â—râ—ed Is out of doubt a matter worth our heed Yea t is a Merâ—y though most mind it not VVhich in this Land should never be forgot That from an enemy so dangerous So great a City and so populous Should in three months be purified so That all men might with safety come and goe For e're the following Winter was expired The Citizens were to their homes retired The Terme from Reading was recalled hither From ev'ry Quarter Clients came together New trading was begun another brood Soone fild the houses which unpeopled â—â—ood Our Gentry tooke up their old rendevow And such a concourse through our streets did flow That ev'ry place was fill'd and of all those Those many thousands who their lives did lose But some â—ew monâ—hs before no want was found The people ev'ry where did so abound To thee oh Lord to thee oh Lord be praise For thou dost wound and cure strike down and raise Thou kill'st and mak'st alive thou frownst at night And thou art pleased e're the morning light VVhen we offend thee thou a while dost leave us VVhen we repent thou dost againe receive us To ruine thou deliver'st us and then Râ—turne againe thou saift ye sonnes of men For in thy wisedome thou considered hast That man is like a bubble or a blast A heape of Dust a tuft of wither'd Grasse A fading Fâ—owre that soone away doth passe A Moment fled which never shall retire Or smoaking Flaxe that quickly loseth fire An idle â—reame which nothing doth betoken A bruised Reed which may with ease be broken And therefore â—ost in Iudgement Mercy minde Yea in thy greatest anger thou art kinde As is the space twixt heav'n aâ—d eaâ—th above So large to those that feare thee is thy love As far â—s doth from Èâ—st the Westâ—eside â—eside So fâ—r thou dâ—st from us our sins divide Such aâ— a father to his childe doth beare Sâ—â—h love is thine to those who thee do feare Tâ—y Iustice thou froâ—â—ge to age declarest But such as love thee thou for ever sparest I thou but turne away from us thy face Loe we are breathâ—esse in a moments space Thy looke doth us with life againe endue And all our losses instantly renew As oft as we rebell thou dost forgive us And though into distâ—esse sometime thou drive us Yet alwaâ—es in our sorrowes we were eyed And thou didst please to heare us when we cried With tâ—â—rst and hunger faint some stray'd aside To seeke a place where safe they might abide With worse then bands of iron they were chained And in the gloomy shâ—des of Dâ—ath detained With hâ—â—â— and â—ickâ—esse they dejected were And to deliver them no helpe was there Their wickednessâ— when they were plagued for Their soules thâ— sweetest morâ—â—ls did abhor They for their follies did afflicted lye And to the gates of Death approached nigh Their soules within them were nigh dead with feare Yea they distracted and amazed were But when to thee they called they were eased And out of all their troubles quite released Thou sent'st abroad thy Word and they were healed Thy Wrâ—t of Indignation was repealed FroÌ„ out of Death's black shades tâ—ey were reprieved And in their sorrowes and their paines relieved From East and West from North South and from Their sev'rall wandrings thou shalt call them home In ev'ry quarter of the Realme thou soughtst â—hem Yea to their City back againe thou broughtst them And there now joyâ—uâ—l and in health they be From all their feares and all their dangers free Oh would that men this love would think upon And tell their seed what wonders thou hast done Would they Oblations of thanksgiving bringing Thy works would praise and publish them in singing Oh! would they were so wise that they might leaâ—ne Thine infinite compassion to discerne And that they would assist me to declare How greaâ— thy Iudgements and thy Mercies are Though none can of thy favours make relation Nor fully utter all thy commendation Yet let us doe our best that we may raise A thankfull Trophee to thy boundlesse praise Let us whom thou hast saved thee conâ—esse And to our utmost pow'r tâ—y goodnesse blesse Let us proclaime thy bounties in the street And preach thee where ouâ— Congregations meet Let us in private at noone morne and night And in all plâ—ces in thy praise delight Let Prince and Priest and People old and yong The rich the poore the feeble and the strong Men Angels and all creatures that have name Vnite their pow'rs to publish out thy fame But howsoever others may endevor Let me oh God let me oh God! persever To magnifie thy glory Let nor day Nor any morne or evening passe away In which I shall not to remembrance bring Thy Iudgements and of thy great Mercy sing Let never whilst I live my heart forget Those Dangers and that strong entangled Net In which my soule was hamper'd Let me see When in this world I shall best pleased be My dangers such appearing as they were When me they â—ound about enclosed here Yea when o'rewhelm'd with terrors I did call Like Ionas from the belly of the Whale And was deliver'd Lord remember thou That with unfainednesse I beg thee now To keepe me alwayes mindâ—ull of thy love And if hereaâ—ter I forgetfull prove Let this unfainednesse which thou dost give An Earnest be of what I shall receive In time to come Refresh my cooled zeale And let thy Spirit thy hid Love reveale Let nor the fawning World nor cunning Devill Nor wanton Flesh incite my heart to evill Let not my wandâ—ing eyes be tempted by Those Objects that aâ—lure to Vanity Nor let my eares be charmed by their tongues Whâ— to betray me chant out Syren-songs Let me nor taste a Pleasure nor obtaine That carnall Rest whereof I am so faine Till it shall make me plainly to perceive Thy love and teach me foolish paths to leave Let me be still in want and ever striving With some afflâ—ctions whilst that I am living Till they for better Fortunes better me And then let into Rest my entrance be From yeare to yeare as thou hast yearly done New sorrowes and new trials bring thou on My stubborne heart till thou hast softned it And made it for thy service truly fiâ— Buâ— give me hopes and daily comforts too To strengthen me as thou hast us'd to doe And that in Iustice Mercy may appeare Inflict Oh Lord no more then I can beare I feele and tremble that I feele it thus My flesh hath fâ—ailties which are dangerous To mine owne safety and as soone as thou Shalt quite remove the feares that seize me now My sense of thee and those good thoughts I doubt May faile within me or be rooted out Some Lâ—st may queÌ„ch them or some Care may choke them Vaine hoâ—â—s may vaile theÌ„ or new-thoughts revoke theÌ„ The wisdome of
thou disable What God shall please to say is warrantable His Word remaineth sâ—ill in date which sayes That On the children of the later dayes He would poure out a measure of his Spirit And thou theâ—eof a portion shalt inherit Though thou dâ—spised art yet God by thee Shall bring to passe a worke which strange will be To most beholders and no doubt it shall Occasion some to stand and some to fall For men to ruine doom'd will misconceive it And they that shall have safety will receive it Thy God haâ—h toucht thy Tongue and tipt thy Pen And tâ—erefore feare not thou the face of men Lest â—e destroy thee For this day to stand 'Gainst Princes Priests and People of this Land Thou aâ—t appointed and they shall in vaine Contend For thou the conquest shalt obtaine Alâ—hough that viperous Brood upon thee lights Whose pois'ned tongue with killing slander smites And though the baâ—barous People of this I le Doe thereupon adjudge thee for a while A man so wicked that although thou hast The Sea of Troubles without ship wrack past Gods Vengeance will not suffer thee to live The life of honest Fame Let that not grieve Thy heart a whit Fâ—r though their eyes doe see Reproaches which like Vipers hanging be Vpon thy flesh thâ—y shall perceive e're long That thou unharmed them away hast flung And they who did expâ—ct to see thee fall For thy firme standing pâ—aise Gods mercy shall Against oppression he will â—afe maintaine thee Ev'n God who oft did his protection daigne thee And tooke thy part against all those that sought How they thy Muse to silence might have brought He that preserv'd thee from this plague will save thee For he thy life ev'n of meere mercy gave thee To serve him with Thou knowst thou art a Brand Snatcht from the flaming fire by Gods owne hand And that to him thou owest all thou art And all thy Faculties in ev'â—y part Take heed therefore that nothing thou refuse To utter which he prompts unto thy Muse. Be constant and Elihu-like beware That thou accept not persons nor declare With glozing â—iâ—les that which thou shalt say Left God may take thee suddenly away But publish that which he of thee requires In termes and words as he the same inspires For to this Realme and City thou art sent To warne that of their follies they repent To shew for what omissions and offences God sendeth Famines Wars and Pestilences And to pronounce what other plagues will come If their Transgressions they depart not from Indeed of Priests and Prophets store have they And some of them are like enough to sâ—y When came the Spirit of the Lord to thee From us who no such dangers can foresee As thou pretendest These are they that share The pleasures of the time with such as are The Lands perdition These are they which tye Soft pillowes to mens elbowes and still cry Peace peace ev'n when perdâ—tion hanging over The peoples heads they plainly mâ—y discover But they that are true Priests of God among them And his true Prophets think not he doth wrong theÌ„ If he doe chuse a Heardman nor will such â—nvy the same or at the blessing grutch Iâ— all were Prophets and God pleased were To make that Gift to ev'ry man appeare Though Gods own presence had made Moses wise Yet Iethro's counsell would he not despise He whom the Angell fed did also eat Ev'n when the Ravers came to bring him meat And all that of their spirit partners be Will heare what 's good though published by thee Behold this thanklesse Pâ—ople from whose Land God hath but newly tooke his heavy hand Forget already what his mercy hath Vouchsafed and his late enflamed wrath Sâ—e how they flocke together to pursue New misâ—hiefes and old follies to renew Their evill courses they afresh begin And ev'n those very purposes of sin Whose pâ—osecution this great Plague hath staid To finish now they are no whit afraid Those Discords which they many times pretended Amid their feares should christianâ—y be ended If God would spare them are againe revived And divers new malicious plots contrived Those Lusts of which thâ—y seemed much ashamed Those Vanities for wâ—â—ch themselves they blamed Those Bargains whicâ— their conscience did perswade Were wicked oâ—â—od abhorred made them theÌ„ That Pride that Sloâ—â— that Envy that Excesse That Câ—uelty tâ—at Iâ—religiousnesse Yea all that wickednesse purâ—ude before And which they faiâ—â—â— so truly to deplore Returnes with intereâ—t and they contemne Good things as if the Plague had hardned them Like Phar'oh they repented while the Rod Was laid upon them But as soone as God Removed it their mindes they changed too And would not let their evill customes goe Goe therefore instantly goe draw the Map Of that great Plague from which they did eseape Set thou before their eyes as in a glasse How great Gods Mercy and their danger was Lay open their grosse crimes that they may see How hatefull and how infinite they be Declare what mischiefes their enormities Have caused and will daily cause to rise Pronounce those Iudgements which Gods holy Word Doth for the Wages of their Crimes record And as the blessed Spirit shall enable Thy Muse and show thee what is warrantable Tell boldly what will on their wayes attend Vnlesse their lives and courses they â—mend Dâ—lay it not and let no worke of thine No goodly-seeming hope or faire designe How promising soeveâ— draw thee from This Taske untill unto an end it come For no affaire of thine shall finde successe Till thou hast finisht this great Businesse If any man that is thy friend or foe Shall this deride and say it is not so But that thy Fancy onely eggeth on Thy Muse or that to doe or leave undone This worke were much alike If any â—ay Thou maist proceed herein with such delay As vulgarly disâ—retion thinketh fit Or as thy common Bus'nesse will permit Nay if thou meet as thou maist meâ—t with some Who like a Prophet unto thee will come And as the Man of Gâ—d seduced was Who told in Bethel what should come to passe Concerning Ieroboams Altar there Perswading thee those thoughts delusions are That selfe-conceit or pride hath made thee dreame That thou art bound to prosecute this Theame Beleeve them not For if that Man of God Here mentioned did feele so shaâ—pe a rod When his delay was but to eate and drinke Perchance through hunger and when he did think A Prophet sent by God had licenc'd him Take heed thou doe not this advice contemne For since this motion urgeth nought that 's ill Nor contradicteth Gods revealed will But rather helpes effect it since he moves it So nat'rally that thine owne soule approves it To be his act beware how thou suspect it Or how thou shalt be carelesse to effect it Let not a worldly wisedome nor the scoffe Of any from this motive drive thee off Take heed the feare of dangers not the
The meaning of the Title page BEhold and marke and mind ye British Nationâ— â—his dreadfull Vision of my Contemplations Before the Throne of Heav'n I saw me thought Tâ—â—s famous Island into question brought Wâ—th better eares then those my Body beare I bâ—ard impartiall IVSTICEâ—o â—o declare God's Benefits our Thanklesnesse and what Small heed his Love or Iudgements here begat I view'd eternall MERCIE how she strove Gâ—â—'s just deserved Vengeance to remove Bâ—t so enâ—reaâ—t our Sinnes and cry'd so loud That at the last I saw a dismall Cloud Eâ—ceeding blacke as from the Sea ascending And â—â—er all this Isle it selfe extending Witâ— such thicke foggie Vapours that their steames Sâ—eâ—'d for a while to darken MERCIES heames Wiâ—â—in this fearfull Cloud I did behold All Plagues and Punishments that name I could And with a trembling heart I fear'd each houre Gâ—d woulâ— thâ—t Tempest on this Island poure Yet better hopes appear'd for loe the Rayes Of MERCY pierc'd this Cloud made such waies Qâ—ite througâ— those Exhalations that mine eye 〈◊〉 Inscription thereupon espie Bâ—ITAINES REMEMâ—RANCER somewhat said Thâ—se wâ—â—ds me thought The Storme is yet delaid And if ye doe not penitence defer This CLOVD is only a REMEMBRANCER Buâ— if ye still affect impiety Expect e're long what this mâ—y â—ignifie Thâ—â— hâ—ving heâ—rd aâ—d seene I thought nor fit Nor safe it were for me to smother it And thâ—râ—forâ— both to others eyes and eares Have offâ—ed here what unto mine appeares Iâ—dge â—s yâ— pleasâ— ye Readers this or me Trâ—th will be Truth how e're it censur'd be GEO WITHER Britain 's Remembrancer Containing A Narration of the PLAGVE lately past A Declaration of the MISCHIEFS present And a Prediction of IVDGMENTS to come If Repentance prevent not It is Dedicated for the glory of God to POSTERITIE and to These Times if they please by GEO WITHER IOB 32.8 9 10 18 21 22. Surely there is a spirit in man but the inspiration of the Almighty giveth understanding Great men are not alwayes wise neither doe the aged alway understand judgement Therefore I say heare me and I will shew also my opinion For I am full of matter and the spirit within mee compelleth me I will not accept the person of man neither will I give flattering titles to man For I may not give flattering titles lest my Maker take me away suddenly Reade all or censure not For He that answereth a matter before he heare it it is shame and folly to him PROV 18.13 Imprinted for Great Britaine and are to be sold by IOHN GRISMOND in Ivie-Lane MDCXXVIII TO THE KINGS MOST EXCELLENT MAIESTIE Most Royall SIR BEcause I doubted who might first peruse â—hese honest Raptures of my sleighted Muse Observing it the quality of most To passe rash judgements taken up on trust And that according to the wits of those Who censure fiâ—st the common Censure goes Perceiving too with what oblique aspect Some glaring Comets on my Liâ—es reflect A while I pawsed whether trust I might My plaine-pace'd Measures to their partiall sight Who mâ—y upon them e're you reade them seize And comment on my Text as they shall please Or slâ—ight or scoffe such men were knowne to me And being loth they first of all should be My Iudges here I offâ—r to your eye The prime perusall of this Poesie For minding well what hopes I have of You What course my Fortunes urge me to pursue What bluâ—res good Studies by those Fooles have got Who sleight desert because they knâ—w it not What freedome Nature gives to eâ—'y soule To speake just things to Kings without controule How farre from noble and from wise they be Who disallow the Muses should be free How eas'd we are when we our minds disclose What profit from our honest boldnesse flowes What Resolutions I have made mine owne And what good cause there is to make them knowne All this well weighing with some Reasons moe Which usefull are for none but me to know I did not feare these Poâ—ms forth to bring To bide at first the censure of a King And loe on milke white paper wings they flye Reade they that lift when you have laid them by But SIR I humbly pray you let not fall Your Doome till you have read and read it all For he that shall by fragments this peruse Will wrong himselfe the Matter and the Muse. Although a tedious Worke it may appeare You shall not wholly lose your labour here For though some heâ—alesse Courtiers censure may That on this Booke your time weâ—e cast away I know it may your spirits recreate Without disturbing your affaires of State And with more usefull things acquaint your eares Then twenty hundred thousand tales of theirs You also know that well it fits a King To heare such Messages as now I bring And that in doing so to take some pleasure Great Monarchs thought it just to be at leasure Long since I have elected you to be Moecenas to my Muses and to me And if my hopes in you shall be â—ereâ—t me I have no other hopes in this kind left me Nor any purpose whatsoever come To seeke another Patron in your roome Nor seeke I now that I from you may gaine What other times I covet for my paine Nor for because my heart hath any doubt That I shall need a Friend to beare me out Against the fury or the fraud of those That openly or secretly oppose Such Works For He that me to this doth call Shall save me harmlesse or I meane to fall Not that I sleight your favour speake I this For deare and precious to my soule it is But rathâ—r that the world may know and seâ— How him I trust that hath inspiâ—ed me Though some suppose I may I doe not feare As many would if in my case they were I doe not feare the World deprive me can Of such a mind as may become a Man Whâ—t ever outward mâ—sâ—ries beâ—ide For God will Meanes or Forâ—itude provide I doe not feâ—re unlâ—sse I merit blame That any one hath pow'r to worke my shame Since they who caâ—slâ—sly my Name shall spot Reproach themselves but me disparage not And sure I am though many seeke to spight me That ev'ry Dog which barketh cannot biâ—e me I oft have lookt on Death without dismay When many thousands he hath swept awâ—y On â—v'ry side and fâ—om him have not stirr'd One foot when he most terrible appear'd I know of Want the utmost discontents The cruelty of Close-imprisonments The bitternesse of Slanders and Disgrace In private corneâ—s and in publike place I have sustain'd already whatsoever Despight can adde to wrong a good endeavor And am become so hopelesse of procuring True Peace but by a peaceable enduring That what remaines to suffer shall be borne And to repine at Forâ—une I will scorne I doe not feare the frownes of mighty men Nor in Close-prison to be lodg'd agen For Goods Life Freedome Fame and such as those Are things
which with most ease I shall produce May have for ought I know the longest use Let no man thinke I 'le racke my memory For pen and-inkehorne-termes to finifie My blunt invention trimming it as they Who make rich clothes but for Saint George his day When they may beâ—ter â—heape a suite provide To fit that feast and many dayes beside Nor lâ—t unlearned Censurers suppose Our Muse a course unwarrantable â—oes In framing Objects representative Which may imprint or in the soule revive True feelings of that wrath or love which we In God almighty by Faiths eyes doe see For though his holy Spirit when he will Can easily the souleâ— of mortals fill With heav'nly knowledges by wayes unseene Yet he himselfe hath sometime pleased beene By ouâ—ward objectâ— to employ the senses In reaching to the soule some excellencies Conceal'd before Yea many times he suites His Deity in our poore attributes And that our weaknesse he may work upon Our usuall speech and passions he puts on If so then we that have no other way Our hidden apprehensions to conuey From Man to Man but by the quâ—int creation Of some Ideaes in our contemplation That so the senses may become inclin'd To give some information to the mind Then we I say whose fluid memories Would else let goe our ayrie fantasies May such a libeâ—â—y with warrant use And I no doubt my selfe may well excuse If other while things bodilesse I cloath With mortall bodies and doe give them both Our speeches and our gestures Foâ— by this A dull affection often quickned is Nor thus to doe are Poets onely moved But these are straines Proâ—heticall approved To say that God is angry or that he Will of our wickednesse avenged be Moves little but to paint his fury so That Men the dreadfulnesse thereof may know As if they sâ—w it or his love to make So pleading of our cause as if it spake Within our hearing with such earnestnesse As friends would plead for friends in their distressâ— Doth much incite the Reader to attention And rouseth up the dullest apprehension Me thinks I doe as with mine eye behold The reall sight of all that I have told Yea that which I my selfe described here Doth touch mine heart with reâ—ereâ—ce and feaâ—e I have perpetuall Visions of that rout Of Plagues and Iudâ—emenâ—s which doe rove about To punish us And from that dreadfull hoast I see me thinkes how to invade our Coast The Plague march'd hither like a Regiment That is for services of moment sent From some great Armie And when I can bend My troubled spirits truly to attend Gods Iudgements and his Mercies as they goe Their daily progresse I can reach unto Much pleasing thoughts and oftentimes foresee What his intents and their evenâ—â— will be For when Mans heart is filled with his Feare The secrets of the Lord to him appeare Oh! what rich treasures doth my soule possesse When I doe contemplate the blessednesse The Wisedome and the Way of God most high How farre above my selfe rais'd up am I How little want I â—haâ— the world can give What heights ascend I what huge depths I dive How much contemne I dangers here below How câ—rtaine of Gods favours can I grow And wiâ—h what sweetnâ—sse is my brest inspired When by the heat of Contemplation fired I sit lock'd up within a lonely roome Wheâ—e nothing to disturbe my thoughts may come And where may enter neither sight nor Notion Of any thing but what may â—â—irre Devotion Sure were it not that I am cloth'd about With flesh that doth compell me to come out Or knew I not the Christian Mans estate Extendâ—d â—urther tâ—en to contemplate Or saw not them unthankfully precise Who Gods externall blessings quite despise Or fear'd I not I never should have union With God unlesse I were in some communion Of Saints on earth whom I might sharers make Of those sweet thoughts of him which I paâ—take Or if I doubted not I might with Lot Vpon the daughters of my bâ—aine begot Commit some spirituall incest had I none To spend the seed of my full Soule upon Or if I found it not unnaturall To leape out of the world till God did call And that fantastique wayes of selfe-contenting Are but the certaine paths to selfe-tormenting If all these things I knew not I could bide Shut up untill my flesh weâ—e Mummy-si'd And though the world should woo me would disdâ—in For ever to unclose my doore againe For though when I come sorth I lose agen My â—aptures and have thoughts like other men Because my nat'rall fâ—ailties and the fog Of earthly Vanities my soule doth clog Yea though I can as hardly keepe those firings Vnquench'd abroad which are in my retirings Inflamed in me as a naked Man Retaine that heat upon a â—ountaine can Which in a close warme chamber he retaineth Yeâ— for my comfort somewhat still remaineth And in my recollections I possesse More happinesse then I can well expresse I view contentments which I cannot measure I have some tastings of immortall pleasure I gâ—immerings have of hidâ—en mysteries My â—ouâ—e on glorious things doth fix her eyes And though some whited walls who did attempt To bring my Muse and Me unto contempt Endevour still with shewes of Pietie My best-approved paines to vâ—lâ—fie I can with scorne of their base envy raise My thoughts above their ignorant dispraise And pitty their dull sottishnesse who prize Their shadowes better then realâ—ties For I have search'd their folly and espy'd That they have drown'd their wisdome in their pridâ— Yea by their partiall dealings I now see They judge mens merits as their titles be And I have gotten those brave things in chase That shall advantage me by my disgrace When therefore by my selfe I am enclosed And for an heavn'ly rapture well disposed I doe not grudge mine enemies to spue Their flanders on my name or to pursue My labours with reproach nor prey to make On all my fortunes But all well can take I doe not then repine although I see That Fooles ennobled Knaves enriched be And honest men unheeded but I bide As pleased as I am at Whitsontide To see faire Nymphs in Country Townes rejected And sluttish Milkmaids by the Clownes elected For Ladies of the May. And if I chance Where any of those Hobby horses prance I can in sport or courtesie bestow Those termes upon them which I doe not owe. For when on Contemplations wings I flye I then o're-looke the highest Vanity I see how base those fooleries doâ— show Which are aâ—mired while I creepe below And by the brightnesse of a two-fold light Reâ—â—ecting from Gods word to cleare my sight Faiths objects to her eyes much plainer are Then those which to my outward â—â—ght appeare My towring Soule is winged up as if She over-flew the top of Tenariffe Or some far higher Mountaine where we may All actions of this lower World survey I am above the touch of malice borne I
passage found And troubled me by their uncertaine sound For though the sounds themselves no terror weâ—e Nor came from any thing that I could feare Yet they bâ—ed Musings and those musings bred Conjecturings in my halfe sleepiâ—g head By those Conjectures into minde wâ—re brougâ—t Some reall things before quite out of thought They divers Fancies to my soule did shew Which mâ— still further and still further drew To follow them till they did thoughts procure Which humane frailty cannot long endure Ev'n such as when I fully was awake Did make my heart to tremble and to aâ—e And when such frailties have disheartned men Oh! God how busie is the Devill then I know in part his malice and the wayes And times and those occasions which he layes To worke upon our weaknesse and there is Scarce any which doth shew him like to tâ—is I partly also know by what dâ—gâ—ees He worketh it how he doth gaine or leese Hiâ— labours and some sense I have procuâ—'d What pâ—ngs are by the soule that while endur'd For though my God in mercy hath indu'd My Soule with Knowledge and with Fortitudâ— In such a measure that I doe not feare Distractedly those tortures which appeare In solitary daâ—knessâ— yet some part Of this and of all frailties in my heart Continues he that so I might confesse His mercies with continuall thankfulnesse And somewhat â—vermore about me beare Which unto me my frailâ—ies may declare Yea thouâ—h without distemper now it be So much of those grim feares are shewed me Which terrifi'd my childhood and which makâ— The heaâ—ts of aâ—ed men sometimes to quake That I am sâ—nsible of their estate And can their case the more compassionate Who on their beds of â—eath doe pained lye Exil'd from comâ—ort and fâ—om company When dreadfull Fancies doe their soules afâ—ight Begotten by the melancholy nigâ—t Glad was I when I saw the Sun appeare And with his Rayes to blesse our Hemiâ—phere That from the tumbled bed I might arise And with more lightsomnesse refresh mine eyes Or with some good companionâ— â—ead or pray To passe the better my sâ—d thoughts away For though such â—houghts oft usâ—full are and good Yet knowing well I was but flesh and blood I also knew mans naturall condition Must have in joyes and griefes an intermission Lest too much joy should fill the heart with folly Or too much griefe breed dangerous melancholy But when the Morning came iâ— little shewed Save light to see discomfortings renewed For if I staid within I heard relations Of nought but dying pangâ— and lamentations If in the Streâ—ts I did my footing set With many sad disasters there I met And objects of mortaliâ—y and feare I saw in great abundance ev'ry where Here one man stagger'd by wâ—th visage pale There lean'd another grunting on a stall A third halfe dead lay gasping for his grave A fourth did out at window call and rave Yonn came the Bearers sweating from the Pit To fetch more bodies to replenish it A little further off one sits and showes The spots which he Deaths tokens doth suppose E're such they be and makes them so indeed Which had beene signes of healâ—h by taking heed For those round-purple-spotâ— which most have thoght Deaths fatall tokens where they forth are bâ—ought May prove Life tokens if that ought be done To helpe the worke which Naturâ— hâ—th begun Whereas that feare which their opinion brings Who threaten Death the want of cordiall things To helpe remove that poison from the heart Which Nature hath expelled thence in part And then the Sickmâ—ns liberty of having Cold drinks and what his appetite is craving Brings backe againe those humours pestilent Which by the vitall pow'rs had foâ—th beene sent So by recharging him that was before Nigh spent the fainting Combatant gives o're And he that cheerfully did raise his head Is often in a moment strucken dead Feaâ—e also helps it forward Yea the terror Occasion'd by their fond and common error Who tell the sickâ— that markt for Death they be When those blâ—w spots upon their flesh they see Ev'n that hath murthred thousands who might here Have lived â—lse among us many a yeare For if the Surgeons or the Searchers know Those markes which for the markes of death do goe From common-spots or purples which we must Confesse or else all kinde of spots dâ—strâ—st Then such as we Death-tokens call were seene On some that have long since recover'd beene Before I learned this I fixt mine eyes On many a private mans calamities And saw the Streets wherein a while agoe We sâ—arce could passe the people fill'd them so Appeare nigh desolate yea quite forlorne And for their wonted visitantâ— to mourne Much peopled Westminster where late I saw So many rev'rend Iudges of the Law With Clients and with Suitors hemmed round Where Courts and Palaces did so abound With busâ—nesses and whâ—re together met Our Thrones of Iustice and our Mercy-seat That place was then frequented as you see Some Villages on Holy-dayes will be When halfe the Towneship and the Hamlets nigh Are met to revell at some Parish by Perhaps the wronging of the Orphans cause Denying or perverting of the Lawes There practised did set this Plague abrâ—eding And sent the Terme from Westminster to Reading Her goodly Church and Chappell did appeare Like some poore Minster which hath twice a yeare Foure visitants And her great Hall wherein So great a Randevow had lately â—in Did look like those old Structureâ— where long since Meâ— say King Arthur kept his residence The Parliament had left her to goe see If they could learne at Oxford to agree Or if that ayre were better â—or the health And safety of our English Common-wealtâ— But there some did so counsell and so vrge The Body politike to take a purge To purifie the parts that seemed foule Some others did that motion so â—onâ—roule And plead so much for Cordialls and for that Which strengthen might the sinnewes of the State That all the time the labour and the cost Which had bestowed beene was wholly lost And here the empty House of Parliament Did lâ—oke as if iâ— had beene discoâ—tâ—nt Or griev'd me thought that Oxford should not be More proâ—perous yet nor câ—uld I any see Resâ—rt to comâ—ort her But there did I Behold two Traytors heaâ—s which perching high Did shew their teeth as if they had beene grinning At those Affliâ—tious which are now beginning Yea their wide â—ye holes star'd me thought as thâ— They lookt â—o see that House now overthrow It selfe which they with Powder up had blowne Had God their snares and them not overthrowne White Hall where not three months before I spi'd Great Britaine in the height of all her pride And France with her contending which could most Outbrave old Rome and Persiâ— in their cost On Robes and Feasts Ev'n that lay solitary As doth a quite-forsaken Monastâ—ry In some lone Forrest and we could not passe To many places but through weeds and
pâ—id for Bearers though mâ—n have Their friends to helpe convey them to the grave What for the Bâ—lls though not a Bell bâ— rung What for their mourning clothes though none be hung Vâ—on them but their owne what pay did passe For Fâ—nâ—rall Sâ—rmons where no Sermon was And what was oft extorted without shame To give him leave â—o preach who fâ—eâ—ly came If herâ— I say I should discover â—hat I might of tâ—ese things mâ—nâ—ioned relâ—â—e Those men who die that charges they may sâ—ve Would fâ—are they might be leggerâ—d in the Grave For more â—o take thâ—â— lodging haâ—â—â—eene spent Then would hâ—ve bought a pretâ—y tenement Thus aâ— one matter drew another on My Muse hath diuers things discourst upon To many sundâ—y purposes but what I chiefly in this Canâ—o aimed at VVas to preseâ—ue in mind an awfull sense Of what we sufâ—red in this Pestileâ—ce VVhat we deserved and how variously Gods Iustice this one Corsâ—ve dâ—d apply To eate out all Corruptions which be spotted Our soules and hâ—d ere this our bodies rotted I might as well have memorized here How diversly God's Merciâ—s did appeare Amid his Iudgements â—ow he comforted VVhen outwaâ—d comâ—oâ—t failed how he sed VVhen oile and meale wâ—re wasted how he gaue Their lives to them whose feet were in the graue VVhat Patience what high Fortitude he granted And how he still supplyed what we wantâ—d I might commemorate a world of Grace Bestow'd in this affliction on this place Both common and in private Many a vow Of theirs who will I feare forget it now Was daily heard Ten thousand suits were daigned Repriâ—ves for soules condemned were obtained Frieâ—ds prayd for friends the parents for the lives Of their deare children Husbands for their wives Wives for their husbands beg'd with teares passioÌ„ And God with pitie heard their lamentation In friends in servants in the temporall wealth In life in death in sicknesses and health God manifested Mercy Some did finde A Friend to whom till then none had beene kind Some had their servants better'd for them there By Gods correction Some left wealthy were By dying kindred who the day before Were like to beg their bread from doore to doore Some by their timely deaths were taken from Such present paines or from such woes to come That they are happy Vnto some from heav'n The blessing of a longer life was giv'n That they might call â—o minde their youthfull times Repent omissions and committed crimes Amend their courses and be warisome That they displeas'd not God in â—imes to come Againe some others by their sicknesses And by the feares they had in this Disease Grew awfull of Gods Iudgements and withiâ— Their harts good motions were wher none had bin Ev'n in their hearts who fear'd nor God nor Devill Nor guilt of sin nor punishment for â—vill And some had health continu'd that they might Gods praise exâ—oll and in his love delight Should I declare in what unusuall wise God op'ned here their soules dimsighted eyeâ— Who blinded were before how nigâ— they reacht To highest Mysteries what things they preacht Ev'n to their neighbours and their family Before their soules did from their bodies flye Or should I tell but what young Children here Did speake to take from eâ—der folke their feare Oâ— Sicknesses and Death what they exprest Oâ— heav'nly blisse and of this worlds unrest What faith they had what strange illuminations What strong assurances of their salvations And with what proper termes and boldnesse they Beyond their yeares such things did open lay It would amaze our Naturallists and raise A gooâ—ly Trophee to our Mâ—kers praise But this for me were too too large a task And many yeares and volumes it would aske Should I in these particulaâ—s record The never ending mercies of the Lord. For he that would his meanest act recite Attempts â—o measure what is infinâ—te That story therefore in particular To medâ—le with I puâ—pose to defer Till in the Kingdome of eternity My soule in honor of his Majesty Shall Haleluâ—ahâ—ing â—ing and over-looke With hallow'd eyes that great eternall Booke Which in a moment to my view shall bring Each passed present and each future thing And there my soule shall read and see revealed What is not by the LAMBE as yet unâ—ealed Meane while I le cry Hosannah and for all His love to me and mercies generall His three times holy and thrice blessed Name I pâ—aise and vow for aye to praise the same The fifth Canto The Author justifies againe His Method and his lowâ—y Straine Next having formerly made knowne The common Feares he tels his owne Shewes with what thoughts he was diseased When first the Plague his lodging seized Of what God's Iustice him accused Vpon what Doubts or Hopes he musâ—d On what and how he did resolve And who from Death did him absolve The Plagues encrease he then expresseth The Mercies of the LORD confesseth Emplores that he himselfe may never Forget them but be thankeâ—ull ever Then mounting Conâ—emplations wings Ascends to high and usefull things From thence his Muse is called downe To make Great Britaines errors knowne Wherein he doth confesse a sailing And his infirmities bewailing Is fitted and resolv'd anew His purpos'd Message to pursue And having fiâ—st anticipated His Arrant is in paâ—t relâ—ted PErhaps the nicer Criâ—ickes of these times When they shâ—ll slâ—ightly view my lowly Rimes Not to an end these Poems fully reading Nor their Occasion nor my Aymes well hâ—eding May taxe my Muse that she at random flyes For want of Method makes Tautelogies And commeth off and on in such a fashion That oft she â—aâ—les their curious expectation It is enough to me that I doe know What they commend and what they disallow And let it be enough to them that I Am pleas'd to make such faults for them to spy For I intend the Method which I use And if they doe not like it they may câ—use They who in their Composures keep the fashion Of elder times and write by imitation Whole quaint Inventions must be trimd and trickt With curious dressings from old Authers pickt And whose maine workes are little â—lâ—e but either Old scattred Peeces finely glew'd together Or some concealed Structures of the Braine Found our where long obscured they have laine And new attir'd These must and well they may Their Poesies in formall garbes aray Their naturall defects by Art to hide And make their old new-straines the Test abide These doe not much amisse if they assume Some â—stridge feathâ—rs or the Peacockes plume To strut withall nor had I greatly hâ—eded That course of theirs if they had not proceeded To câ—nsure mine My Muse no whâ—t envies That they from all their heâ—thnish Poâ—sies Have skumm'd the Creame to themselves for that The sâ—ile of Prince of Poets aâ—â—ogate For Plautus Horace Perseus â—uvenal Yea Greece and Romes best Muses we may call Their Trâ—bâ—taries since from them câ—me in Those Treasures which their princely Titles win
fâ—â—blâ—r maâ—e Hâ—r useâ—â—ll Fâ—culties Thou hast â—njâ—yed Youth strength anâ— health and them hast mis employed Thy God hath made thee gracious in their eyes Whose good esteeme thy soule doth highly prise And of ill purpose though Ilâ— not condemâ—e Thy love or meaning to thy selfe or them Thou hast full often stole their hearts away Ev'n from themselves and made thine owne a prey To many passions which did sometimes bring Vpon your sâ—lves a mutuall torturing Because you did not in your loves propose Those ends for which Affection God bestowes But spent your houres that should have beene employ'd To learne and teach how you should have enjoy'd Gods love that flame to kindle in each other Wherein you might have perished together Thou aggravated hast thy pard'ned crimes And itâ—rated them a thousand times Ev'n yet thou dost renew them ev'ry day And when for Mercy thou dost come to pray Thou meriâ—est confusion through that folly Which makes thy prayers to become unholy Nay at this time and in this very place Where God in Iudgement stands before thy face Thou oft forgetst the danger thou art in Forgetst Gods mercy and dost hourely sin Thou dost neglect thy time and trifle out Those dayes that should have beene employ'd about The service of thâ— Maker Thou dost give Thy selfe that liberty as if to live Or dye were at thy choice and that at pleasure Thou mightst pursue his worke and at thy leasuâ—â— Thy Talent thou mis-spendst and here as though To looke upon Gods Iudgements were enough For thee to doe thou dost with negligence Performe thy vowes which adde to thy offence And loe for these thy faults and many moe Whereof thy Conscience thee doth guilty know My spotted-Hound hath seized thee from whom That thou with life shouldst â—eene have to come What canst thou say I could not make reply For Feare and Guilt and that dread Majesty Which I had apprehended tooke away My speach and not a word had I to say But Merâ—y who came arme in arme along With Iustiâ—e and about her alwayes hung Did looke me thought upon me with an eye So truly pitifull that instantly My heart was cheer'd and Mercy prompting her Such words or thoughts as these she did pâ—efer T is true most awfull Iustice that my sin Hath greater then thine accusations bin The most refined actions of my soule Are in thy presence horrible and foule And if thou take account of what is done I cannot of ten thousand answer one As soone as I am clâ—â—sed from my sinne To saile my selfe anew I doe begin I to my vomit like a Dog retire And like a Sow to wallâ—w in tâ—e mire I have within my soule distempers passions And hourely am besieg'd with strong temptations My Flesh is weake except it be to sin My â—pirit faints when I the goale should winne My Willâ—ffâ—cteth â—ffâ—cteth most what is most vaine My Memory doth â—vill best retaine That little good â— would I cannot doe Those evilâ— I detest I fall into The vapours whiâ—h from earthly things arise Too often veile heav'ns glories fâ—om minâ— eyes And I who can sometimes by contemplation Advance my soule above the common station The world contemning doâ— sometimeâ— agen Lye groveling on the ground with other men My Faith doth faile my mounting wings are clipt Of all my braveries I quite â—â—n stript My hopes are hid my sins doe me defile And in my owne esteeme â—y soule is vile I will acknowledge all my aherrations According to their utmost a gravations And here consesse that I deserve thâ—refore The losse of Mercies love for evermore Which were a greater plague then to abide All torments here and all hell plagues beside But I repent my sinne loe I abhore it And with my heart am truly sory for it I feare thine anger but to feare the love Of Mercy could be lost would in me prove A greater horror and no slavish dread But loving feare this griefe in me hath bred It paines my soule that I who have conceived Such pleasâ—re in thy favours and received Such to ens of thy love from day to day Should passe a moment of my time away In any vaâ—iâ—y or live to be One minutes space without a thought of thee But more I grieve that I should more â—ransgresse Then many doe whom thou hast favour'd lesse Although I am a sinner yet I vow I doe not in my soule my sinnes allow But I dâ—tâ—st them and oft pâ—ay and strive That I accordâ—nâ— to thy Law may live At least I thinke I doe and hopefull am My love to thee is true though much to blame In me there how rely rise against my will Those lusts which I should mortifie and kill And as I am enabled I doe smite As well the fat as leane Amalekite But if I have a sin that is become My Agâ—g or as deare as Absolom I wish a Samuel or a loab may Destroy it e're my soule it shall betray For if my heart hath not it selfe deceived It would wiâ—h willingnesse be quite bereaved Of what it most affects yea sacrifice That which is dearâ—r then my hands or eâ—es E're cherâ—sh wittingly wâ—thin my breâ—â— A thought which thy uprightnâ—sse doth detest Thou knowest that I take no pleasure in That act which I doe feare to be a sin Much lesse if I doe kâ—ow iâ— so and this Doth bittâ—r make it when I doe amisse Though in my wayes my walkings now and then Appeare irregular to other men And other while may shewes of evill make Because from thence offences others take Yet thought I not it lesse offended thee To use it then unus'd to let it be I would not tread once more in such a path To save my life and all the joy it hath But should it cost my life I cannoâ— tell If in some actions I doe ill or well For many times when I doe seâ—ke to shun A plash into a whirlepoole I doe run The Wolfe I flye and loe a Lyon frights me I shun the Lyon and a Viper bites me A scandall followes if I take my course If I divert it there 〈◊〉 a worse If I persist in that which I intend It giveth some occasion to offend If I forgoe it my owne knowled esayes I fin and scandall give some other wayes I find not in my actions or affections That thing that is not full of imperfections I cannot doe a good or pious act But there is somewhat evill in the fact Or in the manner and it either â—ends To this mans dâ—mmage or that man offends Whatever I resolve upon I finde It doth not fully satisfie my minde I am so straitned that I know not whence To finde the meanes of shunning an offence And if deare Mercy thou assist me not My fairest act will prove my foulest blot The Woâ—ld our Friâ—ndâ— our Passion or our Feare Hath so intangled us at unaware With manifold engagements and so drawes And winâ—es us by degrees into that Maze
Of endlesse Wandrings that it leads us to That sin sometimes whâ—ch we abhor to doe And otherwhile so strangely giddifies The Reason and the soules best Faculties That as I said before we doe not know What in our selves to bâ—ke or disallow Yea we such turnings and crosse wayes doe finde That ofâ— our Guides as well as we â—e blinde The Spiâ—it and the Flesh have their delight In things so diverse and so opposite And such a Law of sinne doth still abide Withâ—n our Members that we swarve aside Doe what we can and while we helpe the one To what seemes needfull th' otâ—â—â— is undone If by the Spirits motion I procâ—ed To compasse what I thinke my Soule may need My Body wants the while and I am faine To leave my course that her I may sustaine Lâ—ft my engagements or necessities Might my well meant endeavor scandalize If I but feed my Body that it may Assist my Spirit in some lawfull way It straight growes wanton If I fast it makes My spirit faint in what she undertakes And if I keepe a meane meane fruits are they And little worth which then produce I may If in a Christiâ—n love some houres I spend To be a comfort to some female friend Who needs my counfell I doe cause â—he while Another with hot jealousies to boyle Nor know I how my selfe excuse I may Vnlesse anothers weaknesse I display Which if I doe not or some lye invent They censure me unkinde or impudent I can nor doe nor speake nor thinke that thing But still some inconvenience it will â—ring Or some occasion of anevill be To me or others or to them and me And from the body of this Death by whom But by my Saviour can I freed become Oh! therefore sweet Redeemer succour lend me And from these bogs and sâ—ares of sin defend me Deare God assist in these perplexities Which from our fraile condition doe arise Sâ—t straight I pray thee Lord â—he crookednesse Oferring Nature and these faults redresse So out of frame is evâ—ry thing in me That I can hope for cure from none but thee To thee I therâ—fore kneele to thee I pray To thee my soule complaineth ev'ry day Doe thou but say Be whole or be thou cleane And I shall soone be pure and sound agen The Will thou gavâ—st me to affect thy Will Though it continue not so perfect still Aâ— when thou first bestow'dst the same accept it Ev'n such as my polluted Vessell kept it For though it wounded be through many fights Continu'd with my carnall appetites Yet iâ— my hâ—arts desire to me be knowne Thy Pleasure I preferre before minâ— owâ—e If I could chuse I would not guilâ—y be Of any â—ct diâ—plâ—asing unto thee In all my life I would not spâ—â—ke a word But thâ—t which to thy likâ—ng might accord I woulâ— not thinke a thought but wâ—at might fhow That fâ—om thy Spirit all â—y â—usings flow I would nor hate nor love nor hope nor feare But as unto thy praise it usefull were I would not have a joy within my heart Of which thou shouldâ—t not be the greater part Nor would I live or dye or happy be In life or death but Lord to honour thee Oh! let this Will which is the precious seed Of thine oâ—â—e Love be taken for the deed Assist thou mâ— against the potent evill Of my great Foes the World the Flesh the Devill Renew my fainting pow'rs my heart revive Refresh my spirits and my soule relieve Lord draw me by the cords of thy affection And I shall fall in love with thy perfection Vnloose my chaines and I shall then be free Convert me and converted I shall be Yea to my soule oh God! and to my senses Display thy beautie and thy excâ—â—lencies So plaine that I may have them still in sight And thou shalt ever be my sole delight The world though she should into pieces teare me With troubles from thy love should never scare me Nor â—ble be to tempt me from one duty To â—he with all her pleasure and her beauty Behold I came to seeke thee Lord ev'n here Where to attend thy presence most men feare Though here I saw the Pestilence withstand me I stand to know what worke thou wouldst command me From all the pleasures of the world and from Hâ—r hopes of safety I am bâ—â—her come Where thou art angry and to see thy frowne Am at thy feet with terror fallen downe Yet hence I would not flye although I might To gaine the chiefest of this worlds delight Till I perceive thou biddâ—st me goe away And then for twenty woâ—lds I would not stay I came as heartily as flâ—sh and blood Could come that hath in it so little good To doe thee service and if dye I must Loe here I am and I pronounce thee just Although thou slâ—y me yet my soule well knowes Thou lovâ—st me And I le trust in thee repose Though in my selfe I feele I am polluted I finde a better righteousnesse imputed Then I have lost Thy blessed Love doth fill me With joyes that will revâ—ve me though thou kill me My sins are great â—ut thy compassion's greater I haâ—e thy Quittance though I am thy Debtor And though my temp'rall hopes may be destroid Yet I have those that never shall be void Thus to the Lord my soule I powred out When I with dâ—ngers waâ— enclos'd about And though I was a sinner this appeased His wrath in Châ—ist aâ—d my gâ—iev'd soule was eased He graciously accepted in good part This poore oblation of an humbled heart His Mercy seâ—l'd my pardon and I shook The Pestilence which hold upon me tooke From off my shoulder without sense of harme As Paul did shake the Viper from his arme That weeke moreover God begâ—n to slack His Bow and call his bloody Angell backe VVho by degrees retyr'd as he came on For weeke by weeke untill it fâ—ll to none The number which the Pestilence did kill VVas constantly and much abated still VVhen we were fleating on that Inundation At first we sent a carnall Lamentation VVhich like the Raven â—rom Noahs Arke did flye And found nor rest nor hope of remedy Then sent we Dâ—ve-like Mournings but thâ—â—â— feet A while could with no resting places meeâ— Then forth againe we sent them out from â—ence VVing'd with moâ—e Charity and Penitence And then they brought an Olive-bâ—anch of peace VVhich made us hopefull of this Floods decrease The Lord did favour to this Kingdome daigne And brought from thrall his Iacob back againe His peoples crimes he freely did release His irâ— abated his hot rage did cease His praise had in our Land a dwelling place And Mercy there with Iustice did embrace And 't was a grace to be considered That a Disease so generally spred And so contagious in few weeks should from So many thousands to a cypher come That our infectious beds and roomes and stuffe VVhich in all likelyhood had beene enough To keepe the
Which from their Country rooted out their Name That foolish project which they did embrace To keep them in possession oâ— their place Did lose it And like Cain that vagrant Nation Hath now remain'd in fearfull Desolation Nigh sixteene hundred yeares and whatsoe're Some lâ—tely dreame in vaine they look for heâ—e A temp'rall Kingdome For as long agoe Their Psalmist said No Prophet doth foreshâ—w This â—hraldomes end Nor shall it end untill The Gentiles their just number doe fulfill Which is unlike to be untill thâ—t houre In which there shall be no more temporall pow'r Or temporall Kâ—ngdome Therefore gather them Oh Lord unto thy new Ierusalem In tâ—y due time For yeâ— unto that pâ—ace They have a promiâ—t right by thy meere grace To those who shall repent thy firme Electiòn Continues in this tâ—mpoâ—all rejection Oh! â—hew thy mercy in their desolâ—â—ion That thou maist honor'd be in thâ—ir salvation Yea teach us also by their fearfull fal To heaâ—ken to thy voice when thâ—u doâ—t caâ—l Lest thou in anger unto us protest That we â—hâ—ll never come into thy rest For we â—ave follow'd them in all their sin Suâ—â— and so mâ—â—y have our warnings bin An◠〈◊〉 thou stâ—â—l prolong not thy compassion To us belongs the selfe same Desolation And it will â—hoâ—tly come with all those terrorâ— Tâ—at were on them inflicted for their errors Then woe shall be to thâ—m thâ—â— heretoâ—ore By joyâ—â—â—g house to houâ—◠〈◊〉 the poore And field have into field incorporated Vntill thâ—ir Towâ—eshâ—ps were depopulated For desolate their dwelling shall be made Ev'n in their blood the Lord shall bathe his blade And they that have by avarice and wiles Erected Pallaces and costly Piles Shall think the stones and timbers in the wall Aloud to God for vengeance on them call Then woe shâ—ll be to them who early rise To eate and drinke and play and wantonâ—ize Still adding sin to sin for they the paine Of cold and thirst and hunger shall sustaine And be the servile slaves of them that are Their Foes as to their Lusts they captives were Then wo to them who dâ—rknesse more have lov'd Then lâ—ght and good advice hâ—ve dâ—sâ—pprov'd For they shall wander in a crooked paâ—â— Which neitâ—er light nor end nor câ—mâ—ort hath And when for Guides and Counsâ—ll they do cry Not one shâ—â—l pity them who pâ—sseth by Then wo to them that have corrupted â—in To justifie the wicked in his sin Or for a bribe the righteous to condemne For flâ—mes as on the chaffe shaâ—l seize on them Their bodies to the dunâ—hill shall be cast Their flowre shall turne to dust their flock shal wast And all the glorious tâ—â—les they have woâ—ne Shall but encrease their infamy and scorne Then wo to them that have beene rais'd aloft By good mens ruines and by laying soft And easie pillowes under great mens armes To make them pleas'd in their alluring charmes Then wo to them who being growne aâ—raid Of some nigh perill sought unlawfull aid And setting Gods protection quite aside Vpon their owne inventions have rely'd For God their foâ—lish hopes will bring to nought On them their feared mischiefe shâ—ll be brought And all their wit and strengtâ— shall not suffiâ—e To heave that sorrow off which on them lies Yea then oh Britaine woe to ev'ry one That hath without repentance evill donâ— For those who doe nâ—r heed noâ— beare in mind His visitings Gods reaching hand will find And they with howling cries and lamentation Shall sue and seeke in vaine for his compassion Because they carâ—lesse of his Mâ—rcies were Till in consuming wrath he did â—ppeaâ—e But still we set far off that eviâ—l day In dull security we passe away Our pretious time and with vâ—ine hopes and toyes Build up a trust which â—v'ry puffe destroyes And therefore still when healing is expected New and unlookt for troubles are effected We gather Armies and we Fleets prepare And then both strong and safe we think we are But when we look for victories and glory What followes but events that make us sory And t is Gods mercy that we turne our faces With so few losses and no more disgraces For what are most of those whom we commend Such actâ—ons to and whom we forth do send To fight those Battels which the Lords we call But such as never fight for him at all Whom dost thou make thy Captaines and disposâ— Such Offices unto but unto those Some few excepted who procure by friends Command and pay to serve their private ends Their laâ—guage and their practices declaâ—e That entertained by Gods Foe they were Their whoring swearing and their drunkennesse Do far more plainly to the world expresse What Generall they doe belong unto Then all their Feathâ—rs and their Ensignes doe These by their unrepâ—nted sins betray Thy Cause By these the honor and the day Is lost and when thou hopest thaâ— thy trouble Shall have an end thy danger waxeth double We wisht for Parliaâ—ents and them we made Our God â—or all tâ—e hope that many had To remedy the publike discontent Was by tâ—e wisdome of a Parliâ—ment Well Parliaments we had and what in being Succeedeth yeâ— but greater disagâ—â—eing With gâ—eater griâ—vaâ—ces then heretofâ—re And reason good for we depended more On outward meanes then on Gods will that sends All punishments and all afflictions â—nds Beleeve it should our Parliaments aâ—ree In ev'ry motion should our Sov'raigne be So gracious as to condiscend to all Which for his weale and ours propose we sâ—all Ev'n that Agrâ—â—ment till our sins we leave Shall make us but secure aâ—d helpe to weave A snare by whose fine threds we shall be caught Before we see the mischieâ—e that is wrought Whilst we by Parliamâ—nts do chiefly seâ—k Meere temp'rall ends the King shall do the like Yea till in them we mutually agree To helpe each other and unfained be In lab'ring for a Christian Reformation Each Meeting shall bâ—get a new vexation This Iland hath some sense of what she ayles And very much these evill times bewayles But not so much our sinnes doe we lament Or mourne that God for them is discontent As that the Plaâ—ues they bring disturb our pleasures Encrease our dangers and â—xâ—aust our treasureâ— And for these causes now and then we â—ast And pray as long as halfe a day doth last For if the Sunne doe but a liâ—tle cleare That cloud from which a tempest we doe fearâ— What kind of gâ—iefe we took we plainly shew By those rejoycings which thereon ensue For in the stead of such duâ— thankfuâ—nessâ— As Christian zeale obligeth to expresse To Pleasure not to God we sacrifize Renue our sins revive our vanities And all our vowed gratitude expiâ—es In Games in Guns in Bels in Healths or Fires We faine would be at peace but few men go That way â—s yâ—t whereby it may be so We have not that hâ—mility which must Effect it we â—re fâ—lâ—e and cannot trust Each other no nor God with true