wildest Pow'rs doth tame His Providence extending every-where His Justice which proud Rebels doth not spare In every Page no Period of the same But silly we like foolish Children rest Well pleas'd with colour'd Velum Leaves of Gold Faire dangling Ribbands leaving what is best On the great Writers sense ne're taking hold Or if by chance we stay our Minds on ought It is some Picture on the Margine wrought THe Griefe was common common were the cries Teares Sobs and Groanes of that afflicted Traine Which of Gods chosen did the Sum containe And Earth rebounded with them pierc'd were Skies All good had left the World each Vice did raign In the most monstrous sorts Hell could devise And all Degrees and each Estate did staine Nor further had to go whom to surprize The World beneath the Prince of Darknesse lay And in each Temple had himselfe install'd Was sacrific'd unto by Prayers call'd Responses gave which fooles they did obey When pittying Man God of a Virgines wombe Was borne and those false Deities strooke dumbe RUn Shepheards run where Bethlem blest appears We bring the best of News be not dismay'd A Saviour there is borne more old than yeares Amidst the rolling Heaven this Earth who stay'd In a poore Cottage Inn'd a Virgin Maid A weakling did him beare who all upbeares There he in Cloaths is wrapt in Manger laid To whom too narrow Swadlings are our Spheares Run Shepheards run and solemnize his Birth This is that Night no Day grown great with Blisse In which the Power of Satan broken is In Heaven be Glory Peace unto the Earth Thus singing through the Aire the Angels swame And all the Stars re-ecchoed the same O Than the fairest day thrice fairer night Night to best Daies in which a Sun doth rise Of which the golden Eye which cleares the Skies Is but a sparkling Ray a Shadow light And blessed ye in silly Pastors sight Mild Creatures in whose warme Crib now lies That Heaven-sent Youngling holy-Maid-born Wight ' Midst end beginning of our Prophesies Blest Cottage that hath Flow'rs in Winter spread Though withered blessed Grasse that hath the grace To deck and be a Carpet to that Place Thus singing to the sounds of oaten Reed Before the Babe the Shepheards bow'd their knees And Springs ran Nectar Honey dropt from Trees TO spread the azure Canopy of Heaven And make it twinkle with those spangs of Gold To stay the pondrous Globe of Earth so even That it should all and nought should it uphold To give strange motions to the Planets seven Or Jove to make so meek or Mars so bold To temper what is moist dry hot and cold Of all their Jars that sweet accords are given Lord to thy Wisdom's nought nought to thy Might But that thou shouldst thy Glory laid aside Come meanely in mortality to ' bide And die for those deserv'd eternall plight A wonder is so far above our wit That Angels stand amaz'd to muse on it THe last and greatest Herauld of Heavens King Girt with rough Skins hies to the Desarts wild Among that savage brood the Woods forth bring Which he more harmelesse found than man and mild His food was Locusts and what there doth spring With Honey that from Virgine Hives distill'd Parcht Body hollow Eyes some uncouth thing Made him appeare long since from Earth exil'd There burst he forth all ye whose Hopes rely On God with me amidst these Desarts mourne Repent repent and from old errours turne Who list'ned to his voice obey'd his cry Only the Ecchoes which he made relent Rung from their flinty Caves repent repent THese Eyes deare Lord once Tapers of Desire Fraile Scouts betraying what they had to keep Which their own heart then others set on fire Their trait'rous black before thee here out-weep These Locks of blushing deeds the gilt attire Waves curling wrackfull shelves to shadow deep Rings wedding Soules to Sins lethargick sleep To touch thy sacred Feet do now aspire In Seas of care behold a sinking Barke By winds of sharpe remorse unto thee driven O let me not be Ruines aym'd at marke My faults confest Lord say they are forgiven Thus sigh'd to Jesus the Bethanian faire His teare-wet Feet still drying with her Haire I changed Countries new delights to find But ah for pleasure I did find new paine Enchanting Pleasure so did Reason blind That Fathers love and words I scorn'd as vaine For Tables rich for bed for following traine Of carefull servants to observe my Mind These Heards I keep my fellows are assign'd My Bed's a Rock and Herbs my Life sustaine Now while I famine feele feare worser harmes Father and Lord I turne thy Love yet great My faults will pardon pitty mine estate This where an aged Oake had spread its Armes Thought the lost Child while as the Heards he led And pin'd with hunger on wild Acorns fed IF that the World doth in amaze remaine To heare in what a sad deploring mood The Pelican poures from her brest her Bloud To bring to life her younglings back againe How should we wonder at that soveraigne Good Who from that Serpents sting that had us slaine To save our lives shed his Lifes purple flood And turn'd to endlesse Joy our endlesse Paine Ungratefull Soule that charm'd with false Delight Hast long long wander'd in Sins flowry Path And didst not thinke at all or thoughtst not right On this thy Pelicans great Love and Death Here pause and let though Earth it scorn heaven seâ— Thee poure forth tears to him pour'd Bloud for thee IF in the East when you do there behold Forth from his Christall Bed the Sun to rise With rosie Robes and Crowne of flaming Gold If gazing on that Empresse of the Skies That takes so many formes and those faire Brands Which blaze in Heavens high Vault Nights watchful eyes If seeing how the Seas tumultuous Bands Of bellowing Billows have their course confin'd How unsustain'd the Earth still stedfast stands Poore mortall Wights you e're found in your Mind A thought that some great King did sit above Who had such Laws and Rites to them assign'd A King who fix'd the Poles made Spheares to move All Wisdome Purenesse Excellency Might All Goodnesse Greatnesse Justice Beauty Love With feare and wonder hither turne your Sight See see alas him now not in that State Thought could fore-cast Him into Reasons light Now Eyes with tears now Hearts with griefe make great Bemoane this cruell Death and ruthfull case If ever Plaints just Woe could aggravate From Sin and Hell to save us humane Race See this great King nail'd to an abject Tree An object of reproach and sad disgrace O unheard Pity Love in strange degree He his own Life doth give his Bloud doth shed For Wormelings base such Worthinesse to see Poore Wights behold his Visage pale as Lead His Head bow'd to His Brest Locks sadly rent Like a cropt Rose that languishing doth fade Weake Nature weepe astonish'd World lament Lament you Winds
you Heaven that all containes And thou my Soule let nought thy Griefes relent Those Hands those sacred Hands which hold the reines Of this great All and kept from mutuall wars The Elements beare rent for thee their Veines Those Feet which once must trade on golden Stars For thee with Nails would be pierc'd through and torn For thee Heavens King from Heaven himselfe debars This great heart-quaking Dolour waile and mourne Yee that long since Him saw by might of Faith Ye now that are and ye yet to be borne Not to behold his great Creators Death The Sun from sinfull eyes hath vail'd his light And faintly journies up Heavens saphyre Path And cutting from her Brows her Tresses bright The Moone doth keep her Lords sad Obsequâ—es Impearling with her Teares her Robe of Night All staggering and lazie lowre the Skies The Earth and elementall Stages quake The long-since dead from bursted Graves arise And can things wanting sense yet sorrow take And beare a part with him who all them wrought And Man though borne with cries shall pitty lack Thinke what had been your state had he not brought To these sharpe Pangs himselfe and priz'd so high Your soules that with his Life them life he bought What woes do you attend if still ye lye Plung'd in your wonted ordures wretched Brood Shall for your sake againe God ever die O leave deluding shews embrace true good He on you calls forgo Sins shamefull trade With Prayers now seek Heaven and not with Bloud Let not the Lambs more from their Dams be had Nor Altars blush for sin live every thing That long time long'd for sacrifice is made All that is from you crav'd by this great King Is to beleeve a pure Heart Incense is What gift alas can we him meaner bring Haste sin-sick Soules this season do not misse Now while remorselesse Time doth grant you space And God invites you to your only Blisse He who you calls will not deny you Grace But low-deep bury faults so ye repent His Armes loe stretched are you to embrace When Daies are done and Lifes small sparke is spent So you accept what freely here is given Like brood of Angels deathlesse all-content Ye shall for ever live with him in Heaven COme forth come forth ye blest triumphing Bands Faire Citizens of that immortall Town Come see that King which all this All commands Now overcharg'd with Love die for his own Look on those Nailes which pierce his Feet and Hands What a sharpe Diadem his Brows doth crown Behold his pallid Face his heavy frown And what a throng of Thieves him mocking stands Come forth ye Empyrean Troupes come forth Preserve this sacred Bloud that Earth adornes Gather those liquid Roses off his Thornes O! to be lost they be of too much worth For Streams 1 Juice 2 Balm 3 they are which quench 1 kills 2 charmes 3 Of God 1 Death 2 Hell 3 the wrath 1 the life 2 the harmes3. SOule whom Hell did once inthrall He He for thine offence Did suffer Death who could not die at all O soveraigne Excellence O life of all that lives Eternall Bounty which each good thing gives How could Death mount so high No wit this Point can reach Faith only doth us teach He died for us at all who could not dye LIfe to give life deprived is of Life And Death display'd hath Ensigne against Death So violent the Rigour was of Death That nought could daunt it but the Life of Life No Power had Pow'r to thrall Lifes Pow'rs to Death But willingly Life down hath laid Life Love gave the wound which wrought this worke of Death His Bow and Shafts were of the Tree of Life Now quakes the Author of eternall Death To find that they whom late he rest of Life Shall fill his Roome above the lists of Death Now all rejoyce in Death who hope for Life Dead Jesus lies who Death hath kill'd by Death No Tombe his Tombe is but new Source of Life RIse from those fragrant Climes thee now embrace Unto this World of Ours O haste thy Race Faire Sun and though contrarie waies all yeare Thou hold thy course now with the highest Sheare Joyne thy blew Wheeles to hasten Time that low'rs And lazy Minutes turne to perfect Houres The Night and Death too long a league have made To stow the World in Horrours ugly shade Shake from thy Locks a Day with Safron raies So faire that it outshine all other daies And yet do not presumâ— great Eye of Light To be that which this Day must make so bright See an Eternall Sun hasts to arise Not from the Easterne blushing Seas or Skies Or any stranger Worlds Heavens Concaves have But from the Darknesse of an hollow Grave And this is that all-powerfull Sun above That crown'd thy Brows with Rays first made thee moâ— Lights Trumpeters ye need not from your Bow'rs Proclaime this Day this the angelick Pow'rs Have done for you But now an opall hew Bepaints Heavens Christall to the longing view Earths late hid Colours shine Light doth adorne The World and weeping Joy forth comes the Morne And with her as from a Lethargick Trance The breath return'd that Bodies doth advance Which two sad Nights in Rock lay coffin'd dead And with an iron Guard invironed Life out of Death Light out of Darknesse springs From a base Jaile forth comes the King of Kings What late was mortall thrall'd to every woe That lackeys life or upon sense doth grow Immortall is of an eternall Stampe Far brighter beaming than the morning Lampe So from a black Ecclipse out-peares the Sun Such when her course of Daies have on her run In a far Forrest in the pearly East And she her selfe hath burnt and spicie Nest The lovely Bird with youthfull Pens and Combe Doth sore from out her Cradle and her Tombe So a small seed that in the Earth lies hid And dies reviving bursts her cloddy Side Adorn'd with yellow Locks of new is borne And doth become a Mother great with Corne Of Graines brings hundreds with it which when old Enrich the Furrows which do float with Gold Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile That Hell doth ransake against Death prevaile O how thou long'd for com'st with joyfull cries The all-triumphing Palatines of Skies Salute thy rising Earth would Joyes no more Beare if thou rising didst them not restore A silly Tombe should not his Flesh enclose Who did Heavens trembling Tarasses dispose No Monument should such a Jewell hold No Rock though Ruby Diamond and Gold Thou didst lament and pitty humane Race Bestowing on us of thy free-given Grace More than we forfeited and losed first In Eden Rebells when we were accurst Then Earth our portion was Earths Joyes but given Earth and Earths Blisse thou hast exchang'd with heaven O what a hight of good upon us streames From the great splendor of thy Bounties Beames When we deserv'd shame horrour flames of wrath Thou bledst our wounds and suffer didst
did she pause and with a mild Aspect Did towards me those lamping Twins direct The wonted Raies I knew and thrice essay'd To Answer make thrice faulâ—ring Tongue it stay'd And while upon that Face I fed my Sight Me thought she vanisht up to Titans Light Who guilding with his Rayes each Hill and Plaine Seem'd to have brought the Golden World againe URANIA TRiumphing Chariots Statues Crowns of Bayes Skie-threatning Arches the rewards of worth Books heavenly-wise in sweet harmonious layes Which men divine unto the World set forth States which Ambitious Minds in bloud do raise From frozen Tanais unto sun-burnt Gange Gigantall Frames held wonders rarely strange Like Spiders webs are made the sport of Daies Nothing is constant but in constant change What 's done still is undone and when undone Into some other Fashion doth it range Thus goes the floting World beneath the Moone Wherefore my Mind above Time Motion Place Rise up and steps unknown to Nature trace TOo long I followed have my fond Desire And too long painted on the Ocean Streames Too long refreshment sought amidst the fire Pursu'd those joyes which to my Soule are Blames Ah when I had what most I did admire And seen of Lifes Delights the last extreames I found all but a Rose hedg'd with a Bryer A Nought a Thought a Mascarade of Dreames Henceforth on Thee my only Good I 'll thinke For only thou canst grant what I do crave Thy Naile my Pen shall be thy Bloud mine Inke Thy Winding-sheet my Paper Studie Grave And till my Soule forth of this body flie No Hope I 'll have but only only thee TO spread the Azure Canopy of Heaven And spangle it all with Sparkes of burning Gold To place this pondrous Globe of Earth so even That it should all and nought should it uphold With motions strange t' indue the Planets seven And Jove to make so mild and Mars so bold To temper what is moist dry hot and cold Of all their Jars that sweet Accords are given Lord to thy Wisdome's nought nought to thy Might But that thou shouldst thy Glory laid aside Come basely in Mortality to bide And die for those deserv'd an endlesse night A Wonder is so far above our wit That Angels stand amaz'd to thinke on it WHat haplesse Hap had I for to be borne In these unhappy Times and dying Daies Of this now doting World when Good decayes Love 's quite extinct and Vertue 's held a scorne When such are only pris'd by wretched waies Who with a golden Fleece them can adorne When Avarice and Lust are counted praise And bravest Minds live Orphane-like forlorne Why was not I borne in that golden Age When Gold yet was not known and those black Arts By which Base Worldlings vilely play their parts With Horrid Acts staining Earths stately Stage To have been then O heaven 't had been my bliss But blesse me now and take me soone from this On the Pourtrait of the Countesse of Perthe SON THe Goddesse that in Amathus doth raigne With silver Tramells and Saphir-colour'd Eyes When naked from her Mothers Chrystall Plaine She first appear'd unto the wondring Skies Or when the golden-Apple to obtaine Her blushing Snow amazed Idas Trees Did never look in halfe so faire a guise As She here drawn all other Ages Staine O God what Beauties to inflame the Soule And hold the hardest Hearts in Chaines of Gold Faire Locks sweet Face Loves stately Capitole Pure Neck which doth that heavenly Frame uphold If Vertue would to mortall Eyes appeare To ravish sense She would your Beautie wear SON IF Heaven the Stars and Nature did her grace With all Perfections found the Moone above And what excelleth in this lower Place Found place in her to breed a World of Love If Angels Gleames shine on her fairest Face Which makes Heavens Joy on Earth the gazer prove And her bright Eyes the Orbes which Beauty move As Phoebus dazell in his glorious Race What Pencill paint what Colour to the sight So sweet a Shape can show the blushing Morne The red must lend the Milkie-way the white And Night the Stars which her rich Crown adorne To draw her right then and make all agree The Heaven the Table Zeuxis Jove must be On that same drawn with a Pencill SON WHen with brave Art the curious Painter drew This Heavenly Shape the hand why made he beare With golden Veines that Flow'r of purple hue Which follows on the Planet of the yeare Was it to show how in our Hemispheare Like him She shines nay that effects more true Of Power and Wonder do in her appeare While He but Flow'rs and She doth Minds subdue Or would he else to Vertues glorious light Her constant Course make known or is 't that He Doth paralell her blisse with Clitias plight Right so and thus He reading in Her Eye Some Lovers end to grace what he did grave For Cypres Tree this mourning Flow'r her gave MADRIGALL IF sight be not beguil'd And eyes right play their part This Flower is not of Art But 's fairest Natures Child And though when Titanâ—s from our World exil'd She doth not lock her leaves his losse to moane No wonder Earth finds now more Suns than one To the Author Parthenius WHile thou dost praise the Roses Lillies Gold Which in a dangling Tresse and Face appeare Still stands the Sun in Skies thy Songs to heare A Silence sweet each whispering Wind doth hold Sleep in Pasithea's Lap his Eyes doth fold The Sword falls from the God of the fift Spheare The Heards to feed the Birds to sing forbeare Each Plant breaths Love each Floud and Fountain cold And hence it is that that once Nymph now Tree Who did th' Amphrisian Shepheards Sighs disdaine And scorn'd his Layes mov'd by a sweeter Vaine Is become pitifull and follows Thee Thee loves and vanâ—eth that she hath the Grace A Garland for thy Locks to enterlace Alexis THe Love Alexis did to Damon beare Shall witness'd be to all the Woods and Plaines As singular renown'd by neighbouring Swaines That to our Relicts Time may Trophees reare Those Madrigals we sung amidst our Flocks With Garlands guarded from Apollos Beames On Ochelles whiles neare Bodottias Streames The Ecchoes did resound them from the Rocks Of forraine Shepheards bent to try the States Though I Worlds Guest a Vagabond do stray Thou may that Store which I esteem Survey As best acquainted with my Soules Conceits What ever Fate Heavens have for me design'd I trust thee with the Treasure of my Mind Clorus SWan which so sweetly sings By Aska's Bankes and pitifully plains That old Meander never heard such Straines Eternall Fame thou to thy Country brings And now our Calidon Is by thy Songs made a new Helicon Her Mountaines Woods and Springs While Mountains Woods Springs be shall sound thy praise And though fierce Boreas oft make pale her Bayes And kill those Mirtills with enraged Breath Which should thy Brows enwreath Her Flouds have Pearles Seas