"His life? that brings him to his end, and leaves His end that leaves him to begin his wo: [him His goods? what good in that, that so deceives him? His gods of wood? their feet, alas! are slow To go to help, that must be help'd to go:
Honour, great worth? ah! little worth they be Unto their owners: wit? that makes him see He wanted wit, that thought he had it, wanting thee.
"The sea to drink him quick ? that casts his dead: Angels to spare? they punish: night to hide? The world shall burn in light: the Heav'ns to spread Their wings to save him? Heav'n itself shall slide, And roll away like melting stars that glide
Along their oily threads: his mind pursues him: His house to shroud, or hills to fall, and bruise him?
As serjeants both attach, and witnesses accuse him. "What need I urge what they must needs confess? Sentence on them, condemn'd by their own lust; I crave no more, and thou can'st give no less, Than death to dead men, justice to unjust; Shame to most shameful, and most shameless dust: But if thy mercy needs will spare her friends, Let mercy there begin, where justice ends. 'Tis cruel mercy, that the wrong from right defends."
She ended, and the heav'nly hierarchies, Burning in zeal, thickly imbranded were; Like to an army that alarum cries, And every one shakes his ydreaded spear, And the Almighty's self, as he would tear
The Earth, and her firm basis quite in sunder, Flam'd all in just revenge, and mighty thunder: Heav'n stole itself from Earth by clouds that moisten'd under.
As when the cheerful Sun, elamping wide, Glads all the world with his uprising ray, And woos the widow'd Earth afresh to pride, And paints her bosom with the flow'ry May, His silent sister steals him quite away,
Wrapt in a sable cloud, from mortal eyes, The hasty stars at noon begin to rise, And headlong to his early roost the sparrow flies:
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,
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!
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,
She fix'd her sight, disdaining things below: Into the sea she could a mountain throw, [flow. And make the Sun to stand, and waters backwards Such when as Mercy her beheld from high, In a dark valley, drown'd with her own tears, One of her Graces she sent hastily, Smiling Eyrene, that garland wears Of guilded olive on her fairer hairs,
To crown the fainting soul's true sacrifice: Whom when as sad Repentance coming spies, The holy desperado wip'd her swollen eyes. But Mercy felt a kind remorse to run Through her soft veins, and therefore hying fast To give an end to silence, thus begun:
Aye honour'd father, if no joy thou hast But to reward desert, reward at last
The devil's voice, spoke with a serpent's tongue, Fit to hiss out the words so deadly stung, [sung. And let him die, death's bitter charms so sweetly "He was the father of that hopeless season, That, to serve other gods, forgot their own. The reason was, thou wast above their reason. They would have other gods, rather than none, A beastly serpent, or a senseless stone:
And these, as Justice hates, so I deplore. But the up-ploughed heart, all rent and tore, Though wounded by itself, I gladly would restore. "He was but dust; why fear'd he not to fall? And being fall'n, how can he hope to live? Cannot the hand destroy him, that made all? Could he not take away as well as give? Should man deprave, and should not God deprive? Was it not all the world's deceiving spirit, (That, bladder'd up with pride of his own merit, Fell in his rise) that him of Heav'n did disinherit? "He was but dust: how could he stand before him? And being fall'n, why should he fear to die? Cannot the hand that made him first restore him? Deprav'd of sin, should he deprived lie Of grace? can he not find infirmity, [saking, That gave him strength? unworthy the for- He is, who ever weighs, without mistaking, Or maker of the man, or manner of his making. "Who shall thy temple incense any more; Or to thy altar crown the sacrifice;
Or strew with idle flow'rs the hallow'd floor? Or what should prayer deck with herbs, and spice, Her vials, breathing orisons of price?
If all must pay that which all cannot pay, O first begin with me, and Mercy slay, [stray. And thy thrice honour'd Son, that now beneath doth "But if or he, or I may live, and speak, And Heav'n can joy to see a sinner weep; Oh! let not Justice' iron sceptre break A heart already broke, that low doth creep, And with prone humbless her feet's dust doth sweep.
Must all go by desert? is nothing free? Ah! if but those that only worthy be, [see. None should thee ever see, none should thee ever
What hath man done, that man shall not undo, Since God to him is grown so near a-kin? Did his foe slay him? he shall slay his foe: Hath be lost all? he all again shall win: Is sin his master? he shall master sin :
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.
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)
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,
To see two days abroad at once, and all Doubt whether now he rise, or now wi.. fall: So flam'd the godly flesh, proud of his heav'nly thrall.
His cheeks, as snowy apples sopt in wine, Had their red roses quencht with lilies white, And like to garden strawberries did shine, Washt in a bowl of milk, or rose-buds bright, Unbosoming their breasts against the light. [made Here love-sick souls did eat, there drank, and Sweet smelling posies, that could never fade,
Since these old eyes the Sun of Heav'n have seen! Certes the Son of Heav'n they now behold, I ween.
"Ah! mote my humble cell so blessed be As Heav'n to welcome in his lowly roof, And be the temple for thy deity! Lo, how my cottage worships thee aloof, That under ground bath hid his head, in proof It doth adore thee with the ciling low, Here honey, milk, and chesnuts, wild do grow,
But worldly eyes him thought more like some living The boughs a bed of leaves upon thee shall bestow.
For laughter never look'd upon his brow, Though in his face all smiling joys did bide: No silken banners did about him flow, Fools made their fetters ensigns of their pride: He was best cloth'd when naked was his side.
A Lamb he was, and woollen fleece he bore, Wove with one thread, his feet low sandals wore : But bared were his legs, so went the times of yore. As two white marble pillars that uphold God's holy place where he in glory sets, And rise with goodly grace and courage bold, To bear his temple on their ample jets, Vein'd every where with azure rivulets,
Whom all the people, on some holy morn, With boughs and flowry garlands do adorn: Of such, though fairer far, this temple was upborne. Twice had Diana bent her golden bow, And shot from Heav'n her silver shafts, to rouse The sluggish salvages, that den below, And all the day in lazy covert drouse, Since him the silent wilderness did house :
The Heav'n his roof, and arbour barbour was, The ground his bed, and his moist pillow grass: But fruit there none did grow, nor rivers none did pass.
At length an aged sire far off he saw Come slowly footing, every step he guest One of his feet he from the grave did draw. Three legs he had, the wooden was the best, And all the way he went, he ever blest
With benedicities, and prayers store, But the bad ground was blessed ne'er the more, And all his head with snow of age was waxen hoar. A good old hermit he might seem to be, That for devotion bad the world forsaken, And now was travelling soune saint to see, Since to his beads he had himself betaken, Where all his former sins he might awaken, And them might wash away with dropping brine, And alms, and fasts, and church's discipline; And dead, might rest his bones under the holy shrine.
But when he nearer came, he lowted low With prone obeisance, and with curtsey kind, That at bis feet his head he seem'd to throw : What needs him now another saiut to find? Affections are the sails, and faith the wind,.
That to this Saint a thousand souls convey Each hour: O happy pilgrims, thither stray! What caren they for beasts, or for the weary way? Soon the old palmer, his devotions sung, Like pleasing anthems modelled in time; For well that aged sire could tip his tongue With golden foil of eloquence, and Inne,
And lick his rugged speech with phrases prime.
"But oh!" he said, and therewith sigh'd full deep, "The Heav'ns alas! too envious are grown, Because our fields thy presence from them keep; For stones do grow where corn was lately sown :' (So stooping down, he gather'd up a stone)
"But thou with corn canst make this stone to ear. What needen we the angry Heav'ns to fear? Let them envy us still, so we enjoy thee here.” Thus on they wandred; but these holy weeds A monstrous serpent, and no man, did cover. So under greenest herbs the adder feeds; And round about that stinking corps did hover The dismal prince of gloomy night, and over His ever-damned head the shadows err'd Of thousand peccant ghosts, unseen, unheard, And all the tyrant fears, and all the tyrant fear'd.
He was the son of blackest Acheron, Where many frozen souls do chatt'ring lie, And rul'd the burning waves of Phlegethon, Where many more in flaming sulphur fry. At once compell'd to live, and forc'd to die,
Where nothing can be heard for the loud cry Of "Oh!" and "Ah!" and "Out, alas! that I Or once again might live, or once at length might die!"
Ere long they came near to a baleful bower, Much like the mouth of that infernal cave, That gaping stood all comers to devour, Dark, doleful, dreary, like a greedy grave, That still for carrion carcases doth crave.
The ground no herbs, but venomous, did bear, Nor ragged trees did leave; but every where Dead bones and skulls were cast, and bodies hanged
Upon the roof the bird of sorrow sat, Llonging joyful day with her sad note, And through the shady air the fluttering bat Did wave her leather sails, and blindly float, While with her wings the fatal screech owl smote
Th' unblessed house: there on a craggy stone Celeno hung, and made his direful moan, And all about the murdered ghosts did shriek and groan.
Like cloudy moonshine in some shadowy grove, Such was the light in which Despair did dwell; But he himself with night for darkness strove. His black uncombed locks dishevell'd fell About his face; through which, as brands of Hell, Sunk in his skull, his staring eyes did glow,
That made him deadly look, their glimpse did
Like cockatrice's eyes, that sparks of poison throw.
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