But soon as he again dishadowed is,
Restoring the blind world his blemish'd sight,
As though another day were newly his,
The coz'ned birds busily take their flight,
And wonder at the shortness of the night:
So Mercy once again herself displays
Out from her sister's cloud, and open lays
Those sunshine looks, whose beams would dim a
thousand days.

How may a worm, that crawls along the dust,
Clamber the azure mountains, thrown so high,
And fetch from thence thy fair idea just,
That in those sunny courts doth hidden lie,
Cloth'd with such light, as blinds the angels' eye?
How may weak mortal ever hope to fill

His unsmooth tongue, and his deprostrate style? O, raise thou from his corse thy now entomb'd exile!

One touch would rouse me from my sluggish herse,
One word would call me to my wished home,
One look would polish my afflicted verse, [lome,
One thought would steal my soul from her thick
And force it wand'ring up to Heav'n to come,

O thou vile mirrour of celestial grace,

How can frail colours pourtray out thy face,
Orpaint in flesh thy beauty, in such semblance base?
Her upper garment was a silken lawn,
With needle-work richly embroidered;
Which she herself with her own hand had drawn,
And all the world therein had pourtrayed,
With threads so fresh and lively coloured,

That seem'd the world she new created there;
And the mistaken eye would rashly swear
The silken trees did grow, and the beasts living were.
Low at her feet the Earth was cast alone
(As though to kiss her foot it did aspire,
And gave itself for her to tread upon)
With so unlike and different attire,
That every one that saw it, did admire

What it might be, was of so various hue;
For to itself it oft so diverse grew,
[new.
That still it seem'd the same, and still it seem'd a
And here and there few men she scattered,
(That in their thought the world esteem but small,
And themselves great) but she with one fine thread
So short, and small, and slender wove them all,
That like a sort of busy ants that crawl

About some mole-hill, so they wandered;
And round about the waving sea was shed:
But for the silver sands, small pearls were sprinkled.
So curiously the underwork did creep,
And curling circlets so well shadowed lay,
That afar off the waters seem'd to sleep;
But those that near the margin pearl did play,
Hoarsely enwaved were with hasty sway,

As though they meant to rock the gentle ear,
And hush the former that enslumber'd were:
And here a dangerous rock the flying ships did fear.
High in the airy element there hung
Another cloudy sea, that did disdain
(As though his purer waves from Heaven sprung)
To crawl on Earth, as doth the sluggish main :
But it the Earth would water with his rain, [would,
That ebb'd, and flow'd, as wind, and season
And oft the Sun would cleave the limber mould
To alabaster rocks, that in the liquid roll'd."
Beneath those sunny banks, a darker cloud,
Dropping with thicker dew, did melt apace,
And beat itself into a hollow shroud :
On which, if Mercy did but cast her face,
A thousand colours did the bow enchace,

That wonder was to see the silk distain'd
With the resplendence from her beauty gain'd,
And Iris paint her locks with beams, so lively
feign'd.

About her head a cypress heav'n she wore,
Spread like a veil, upheld with silver wire,
In which the stars so burnt in golden ore,
As seem'd the azure web was all on fire:
But hastily, to quench their sparkling ire,

A flood of milk came rolling up the shore,
That on his curded wave swift Argus wore,
And the immortal swan, that did her life deplore.
Yet strange it was, so many stars to see
Without a sun, to give their tapers light:
Yet strange it was not that it so should be:
For, where the Sun centres himself by right,
Her face, and locks, did flame, that at the sight,
VOL. VI.

The heav'nly veil, that else should nimbly move;
Forgot his flight, and all incens'd with love,
With wonder, and amazement, did her beauty
prove.

Over her hung a canopy of state,
Not of rich tissue, nor of spangled gold,
But of a substance, though not animate,
Yet of a heav'nly and spiritual mould,
That only eyes of spirits might behold:

Such light as from main rocks of diamond,
Shooting their sparks at Phoebus, would rebound:
And little angels, holding hands, danc'd all around.
Seemed those little sp'rits, through nimbles bold,
The stately canopy bore on their wings;
But them itself, as pendants did uphold,
Besides the crowns of many famous kings:
Among the rest, there David ever sings :
And now, with years grown young, renews his
Unto his golden harp, and ditties plays, [praise.
Psalming aloud in well-tun'd songs his Maker's
Thou self-idea of all joys to come,

flays

Whose love is such, would make the rudest speak,
Whose love is such, would make the wisest dumb;
O when wilt thou thy too long silence break,
And overcome the strong to save the weak!
If thou no weapons hast, thine eyes will wound
Th' Almighty's self, that now stick on the
[impound.
As though some blessed object there did them
Ah, miserable object of disgrace,
What happiness is in thy misery!

ground,

I both must pity, and envy thy case;
For she, that is the glory of the sky,
Leaves Heaven blind to fix on thee her eye:

Yet her (though Mercy's self esteems not small)
The world despis'd, they her Repentance call,
And she herself despises, and the world, and all.
Deeply, alas! empassioned she stood,
To see a flaming brand toss'd up from Hell,
Boiling her heart in her own lustful blood,
That oft for torment she would loudly yell,
Now she would sighing sit, and now she fell

Crouching upon the ground, in sackcloth trust :
Early and late she pray'd; and fast she must;
And all her hair hung full of ashes, and of dust.
Of all most hated, yet hated most of all
Of her own self she was; disconsolate
(As though her flesh did but infuneral
Her buried ghost) she in an harbour sat
Of thorny briar, weeping her cursed state :
And her before a hasty river fled,

Which her blind eyes with faithful penance fed, And all about, the grass with tears hung down his head.

Her eyes, though blind abroad, at home kept fast,
Inwards they turn'd, and look'd into her head,
At which she often started, as aghast,
To see so fearful spectacles of dread;
And with one hand her breast she martyred,
Wounding her heart, the same to mortify,
The other a fair damsel held her by:
Which if but once let go, she sunk immediately.
But Faith was quick, and nimble as the Heav'n,
As if of love and life she all had been :

And though of present sight her sense were reav'n,
Yet she could see the things could not be seen.
Beyond the stars, as nothing were between,

F

Bring, bring, ye Graces, all your silver flaskets,
Painted with every choicest flow'r that grows,
That I may soon unflow`r your fragrant baskets,
To strow the fields with odours where he goes,
Let whatsoe'er he treads on be a rose."

So down she let her eyelids fall, to shine
Upon the rivers of bright Palestine, [wine.
Whose woods drop honey, and her rivers skip with

CHRIST'S TRIUMPH ON EARTH.

THE ARGUMENT..

Christ brought into the place of combat, the wilderness, among the wild beasts, Mark i. 13. ver. 1. Described by his proper attribute, the mercy of God, ver. 2, 3.; whom the creatures cannot but adore, ver. 4, 5. By his unity with the Godhead, ver. 6. His proper place, ver. 7. The beauty of his body, Cant. v. 11. Psal. xlv. 2. Gen. xlix. 12. Cant. v. 10. and Isai, ii. 2. ver. 8-13. By preparing himself to the combat with his adversary, that seemed what he was not, ver. 14, 15. Some devout essence, ver. 18-19. (Closely tempting him to despair of God's providence, and provide for himself)

ver. 20.

But was what he seemeth uot, Satan, and would fain have led him, 1st, To desperation; charactered by his place, countenance, apparel, horrible apparitions, &c. ver. 21-30. 24, To Presumption; charactered by her place, attendants, &c. ver. 31-36.; and by her temptation, 37.; to vain glory, ver. 38. ; poetically described from the place where her court stood; a garden, ver. 39-49.; from her court, and courtiers, ver. 50.; pleasure in drinking, ver. 51; in luxury, ver. 52. 2d, Avarice, ver. 53-55. 3d, Ambitious honour, ver. 56.; from her throne, and from her temptation, ver. 57-59. The effect of this victory in Satan, ver. 60.; the angels, ver. 61.; the creatures, ver. 62.

And all with open throat would swallow whole the

Soon did the lady to her Graces cry,
And on their wings herself did nimbly strow.
After ber coach a thousand Loves did fly,
So down into the wilderness they throw :
Where she, and all her train, that with her flow
Thorough the airy wave, with sails so gay,
Sinking into his breast that weary lay, [away.
Made shipwreck of themselves, and vanish'd quite

Seemed that man had them devoured all,
Whom to devour the beasts did make pretence;
ut him their salvage thirst did nought appal,
Though weapons none he had for his defence:
What arms for innocence, but innocence?

For when they saw their Lord's bright cognizance
Shine in his face, soon did they disadvance,
And some unto him kneel, and some about him
dance.

Down fell the lordly lion's angry mood,
And he himself fell down in cougies low;
Bidding him welcome to his wasteful wood.
Sometime he kist the grass where he did go,
And, as to wash his feet he well did know,

With fawning tongue he lickt away the dust,
And every one would nearest to him thrust,
And every one, with new, forgot his former lust.
Unmindful of himself, to mind his Lord,
The lamb stood gazing by the tyger's side,
As though between them they had made accord,
And on the lion's back the goat did ride,
Forgetful of the roughness of the hide.

If he stood still, their eyes upon him ba'ted,
If walkt, they all in order on him wait d,
And when he slept, they as his watch themselves
conceited.

Wonder doth call me up to see: O no,
I cannot see, and therefore sink in wonder,
The man that shines as bright as God, not so,
For God he is himself, that close lies under
That man, so close, that no time can dissunder
That band; yet not so close, but from him break
Such beams, as mortal eyes are all too weak
Such sight to see, or it, if they should see, to speak.
Upon a grassy hillock he was laid,
With woody primroses befreckled:
Over his head the wanton shadows played
Of a wild olive, that her boughs so spread,
As with her leaves she seem'd to crown his head,
And her green arms t' embrace the Prince of
Peace:

The Sun so near, needs must the winter cease,
The Sun so near, another spring seem'd to increase.
His hair was black, and in small curls did twine,
As though it were the shadow of some light,
And underneath his face, as day, did shine;
But sure the day shined not half so bright,
Nor the Sun's shadow made so dark a night.
Under his lovely locks her head to shroud,
Did make Humility herself grow proud:
Hither, to light their lamps, did all the Graces
crowd.

One of ten thousand souls I am, and more,
That of his eyes, and their sweet wounds, complain;
Sweet are the wounds of Love, never so sore,
Ah, might he often slay me so again!
He never lives, that thus is never slain.

What boots it watch? Those eyes, for all my art,
Mine own eyes looking on, have stole my heart:
In them Love bends his bow, and dips his burning
dart.

As when the Sun, caught in an adverse cloud,
Flies cross the world, and there anew begets
The watry picture of his beauty proud.
Throws all abroad his sparkeling spanglets,
And the whole world in dire amazement sets,

But worldly eyes him thought more like some living The boughs a bed of leaves upon thee shall bestow.