Fons Lachrymarum, or, A Fountain of Tears

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Introductory notes

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But for this Face, the Work had clearely gone For old smooth Quarles himself, and not his Sonne; Who sighing how KINGS fell, and Subjects rose, Scornes to misspend one single Teare in Prose; This Book's his shadowe, Hee's his Fathers Shade, QUARLES is a Poet as well Borne as Made. T: M: W. Marshall Fecit
Portrait of John Quarles
[Page]
London Printed for Nathaniel Brookes and sold at his shop at the Angel in Cornhill.
FONS LACHRYMARUM OR A Fountayne of TEARES.
[Page] Fons Lachrymarum;
OR A
FOUNTAIN OF
TEARS:
From whence doth flow
Englands Complaint,
Jeremiah's Lamentations
PARAPHRAS'D,
WITH
Divine Meditations;
AND AN
ELEGY
Upon that Son of Valor
Sir CHARLS LUCAS.
Written by JOHN QUARLES.

London, Printed for Nathaniel Brooks,
at the Angel in Cornhill. 1649.

London.
PUBLISHED FOR Nathaniel Brooks
1649
[Page]

TO THE
illustrious Prince
CHARLS,
PRINCE of WALES.

Sir,

IF the Current of my affections force me against the Rocks of presumption, I humbly crave the assistance of Your gracious [Page]pardon: The extent of my ambition is to prostitute at Your Highnesses feet the first fruits of an Orchard, which I planted in Flaunders, during the time of my banishment, and now have brought them into Englandto be press'd for growing in a strange Country; J confess, the fruit is green, and sowre, and cannot ripen till it feel the Sunshine of Your Princely eye; nor sweeten, till Your approbation shall be pleased to afford them a liking, and that liking honor [Page]them with a free acceptance. There is nothing that can make me esteem my self unhappy, but that the severity of these timeswill not permit me to tender Your Highness that service which my heart is ambitious to perform, and my duty binds me to acknowledg: J have nothing that I can stile my own but a fidelious heart, which shall always pray for Your prosperity; and that Your successes may (like waves) ride in one upon the back of another; and that at last You [Page]may, like the Sunne, break through the Clouds of Opposition, and once more shine in your proper Hemisphere: Heaven season Your Royal Heart with the Principles of Wisdom, and grant that You may not HideYour Counsels in the Bosoms of them that honour You with their Lips, when their Heartsare far from You. These are the serious and fervent Prayers of him, that desires to live no longer then he is willing to devote [Page]himself to Your Highnesses Commands, and is

Your Highnesses
most obliged
Servant,
JOHN QUARLES.
[Page]

TO
THE READER.

Kind Reader,

I Here present to thy view a Fountain, from which doth flow, Complaints, Lamentations, and Meditations, three Necessaries for these Times. Never were Complaints more frequent, then they are in this age of obduracy and oppression; Nor Lamentations more requisite, then in these Lachrymable Times; Nor Meditations more commendable, then [Page] in these days of uncertainty. Reader, I shall desire thee to pass by the errors of the Press, which are now too late to correct: Had not the perversness of these times debarred me from coming to the Press, the Printers Mistakes had not been so numerous. For my own part, I have nothing to boast of, but this that I am confident the judicious Reader will pardon the weakness of my endeavors, and know, that the tallest Cedars were but twigs at first.

Reader,
Farewel.
[Page]

TO
My dear Friend the
AUTHOR.

THe Sonbegins to rise, the Father'sset:
Heav'n took away one light, and pleas'd to let
Another rise. Quarles, thy Light's divine,
And it shall teach Darkness it self to shine.
Each word revives thy Fathers name, his art
well imprinted in thy noble heart:
I've read thy pleasing lines, wherein I find
The rare Endeavors of a modest mind.
Proceed as well as thou hast well begun,
That we may see the Father by the Son.
R.L.
[Page]

TO
My much esteemed Friend the
AUTHOR,
On his Book, intituled,
Fons Lachrymarum.

THou prov'st Prophetick in thy doleful Muse,
Whilst it the Prophetsmournful tears renews
Yet e're thy tears be spent, may Englandstand
In her first glory, rais'd by Charlshis hand.
Then may each drop (to add unto her grace)
Turn solid pearl, and beautifie her face:
There whilest in native brightness fix'd they be,
Their radiant lustre shall reflect on thee.
Rich. Quiney.

1.

1.1.

[Page 1]

1.1.1. Englands Complaint.

EXperience tells us, those that are in pain
Need neither Act norOrd'naence to complain:
Griefs have their priviledg, whose passions break
All Laws, and Losers claim a power to speak.
If passion be too rude (Reader) excuse;
Grief knows no manners, sorrow needs no Muse:
But stay my hasty quill, forbear, I know
Thou art too young, too tender yet to go
Without a guide, a guide that may direct
Thy staggering feet; A guide that may protect
Thy Infant years. Do not too much endeavor;
A fall at first will make thee lame for ever.
Invoke the Nine, and if they do deny
To give thee ayd, complain to Mercury:
Tell him, thou art ababe, and dost desire
To warm thy genius by the Muses fire:
Where are Apollo's off-springs? are they ty'd
In sorrows chains, e're since Mecaenas dy'd?
Or are their Helleconian waters spent?
Or do they stay t'expect a Complement?
I wonder what they mean, to be thus slow,
In former times they'd run, they'l now scarce go:
[Page 2]
My heedless Muse, dost thou not understand
They're all distracted and dispers'd the Land?
Only Melpomene, who now appears
Like Nioby, a monument of tears.
Knowst thou not this (rash Muse) then how canst thou
Implore a help from them that know not how
To help themselves? Nay Pegasus is made
A poor Dragoon; his friends are all betraid:
Though all distracted, and thus routed be,
Yet, helpless Muse, there's Heav'n to succour thee:
Then hear me Heaven, O hear me, now I sue,
Th' art my Apollo, be Mecaenas too,
And great Conductor of my Soul, inspire
My frozen heart with thy celestial fire:
Light thou my Candle, O then I shall see,
By thy own light, how to discover thee;
Inflame my frozen senses with thy Spirit,
That I may learn to live, and live t'inherit
The glory of thy Kingdom, and to rest
Where joys are greater then can be exprest:
And so go on; but stay, rash quill, and know
What 'tis to be engag'd, before you go
Too far; Be careful these bad times, unless
Your rash adventure want a good success:
Be wary what you do; these are no times
To please fond fancies with lascivious Rhymes.
Be circumspect; Let every word you write
Be Truth, and then let every word invite
A tear; each tear, a sigh; that every Eye,
That reads, may melt into an Elegie.
[Page 3]
And curs'd be that dull eye, that will not lend
A tear, or two, to see poor England spend
Weeks, months, & years, in sighs, in sobs, in groans,
In tears, in pray'rs, and wilt not move the stones?
Vollies of tears, discharged from her eyes,
Shake Heaven and Earth, and penetrate the skies
With sad co~plain ? heav'n mourns at her condition
And weeps down showrs of tears at her Peti ion:
Then rouze, ye Britains, from your flattering sleep,
Hear Englands groans, thus she begins to weep;
No Peace, no ease, no pleasure; is all gone,
Pursu'd with envy and rebellion?
Whither, oh whither, are my glories sent?
Banisht my brest by Act of Parliament?
Vertue is fled, and scar'd into a trance
By the ill shape of Bughear ignorance
What mists are these that thus eclipse the light
Of splend nt truths? From whence proceeds this night
Of darkening Errors? how am I begul'd
Of all my joys? Nay, how am I defil'd
With leprous humors? On how grief transports
My frightned sense! what envy's this resorts
Unto my swelling brest? Is there no mean,
No pleasing Musick to divide my scean?
Were I an Atlas, I could not sustain
This Firmament of grief: who can refrain
From falling, that's so much opprest as I
With such a burthen of Malignity.
Where shall I run, to whom shall I address
My burthened self, or how shall I express
[Page 4]
My uncontrouled sorrows, or relate
Th' unhappy discord of my factious State?
Where shall I fly? Is there no Ark above
To hide me from these waves? Is there no Dove
To bring me tydings that the Land is clear,
And that the hills of Peace do reappear?
But must I perish? shall the waves of pride
Dash me in pieces? still a flowing tyde,
Still flow, and never ebb! Is there no bliss?
Wonder sad Soul! O what an Ocean's this
Ambitious winds, why rage ye more and more,
And make the Seas thus envy at the shore?
Is there no Peter can pray Heav'n to please.
To check the winds, and qualifie the Seas?
Am I the worst of all? Is my condition
So bad, that there is no Petition
Can have an audience? Ah my conscience saith,
I've Peters fears, but yet want Peters faith.
Here let us stop a little, and advise
With flesh and blood; Can greater wants arise,
To damage Souls, then faith, whose want procures
All these extreams, which my poor heart endures?
Oh no, there cannot: he that wants the hand
Of Soulsupporting Faith, forgets to stand:
This is my want, and till I find relief,
I'le lie and tumble in the shades of grief,
And glut the ayr with sighs; my hideous cries
Shall roar like thunder in the troubled skies:
O that my eyes were Oceans, that I may
Drown all my sorrows in one stormy day;
[Page 5]
Or would pleas'd Heaven, enable me to strain,
To gulp up Seas, and weep them out again,
Then should my briny streams gush forth so fast,
That every tear should strive to be the last;
So the swift current of my swelling eyes
Should overflow my heap'd up miseries.
I have offended Heaven, and now I see
My sins are walls betwixt my God and me,
Which stop the passage of my fervent prayers,
That there is no prevailing but by tears,
To batter down the wall that thus prevents
My cries, my vows, and hinders my intents
To Heav'n, that Heav'n can send me no relief,
Nor take me from this labyrinth of grief.
Gone are my golden, my forgotten days,
When every bird could whistle forth my praise.
Gone are those days when this consuming Earth
Was stuffd with pleasure, & perfum'd with mirth:
Though all be gone, yet will I strive t'endure;
He that hath made the wound, can make the cure:
For now I'm wounded, and my wounds do smart
Beyond my patience; and my tender heart,
Swell'd up with sorrow, doth predestinate
What woe must happen to my bleeding State:
My head, my head's tormented; and my eyes
Are dim with gazing after vanities:
My members swell like Oceans, and from thence
Proceeds so great, so large a confluence
Of noisom humors, and they run so thick,
That they surcharge, and make my stomack sick:
[Page 6]
I ave purg'd alr ady, and that will not do,
I fear, I fear, that I must vomit too:
I doubt 'tis too much action that hath bred
These ill diseases that disturb my ead;
Oh I am sick to death, my bowels yern!
I fre z I fr[...]z and whilest I fre z, I burn;
I burn, I melt, my soul is parch'd within.
(How hot's the furnace of tormenting sin?)
And Ah! how soon is feebled nature lam'd
With joynt contracting cold; if not inflam'd
By heavens enlivening fire? how hot's my blood
To what is bad, and Ah, how cold to good!
Oh grief! how two extreams perplex one heart,
So link'd together, that they cannot part!
Thus am I tost, and doubtfully opprest
Beneath the burden of a dubious brest?
Nothing but Wars, and Tumults do arise;
Thrice hapyy I had I known how to prize
My happiness? Alas I ne're did know
The good of peace, till Heav'n was pleasd to show:
War makes me know, what joy it was before
To live in peace and plenty, now the more.
To live in peace and plenty, now I know by this,
This want of peace, what a combining bliss
It was to live united, and to praise
That God of Peace, that blest my peaceful days
With large increase; Oh misery to think,
Loaded with too much pleasure, how I sink!
I that was wont to boast my heaps of treasure,
Now swim in sorrow, and now sink in pleasure:
[Page 7]
I that the world did envy, now am brought
To be not worth the env'ing, worse then nought,
Revil'd by all; see how the hand of Fate
hath pleas'd to make me thus unfortunate:
What shall I do? what physick can procure
A little ease? I cannot long endure.
Where are my grave Divines to give advice
To a relapsing Soul? are they grown nice
Of late? Are their conspiring hearts agreed
T'absent themselves in this my time of need?
What do they mean? Oh whither are they fled?
Sure, sure, they're silenc'd all, or else all death:
Do they not see me falling? Do they stand
Amaz'd, not daring to afford a hand
To help me up? Methinks I hear them cry,
That they are falling to, as well as I.
Where is Religion, that was wont to be
The Governor of Peace, the branched Tree
That ever flourish'd? see, now every Clown
Being authoriz'd presumes to cut her down.
Will they still strive with swords, with guns, with clubs,
To pickle my Religion up in tubs?
Have they no Reason? hath their greedy zeal
Swallow'd up all their Senses at one meal?
Have they agreed that Piety and Reason
Shall be condemn'd, and voted into Treason?
Or hath their hellbred thoughts found out a way
To turn our Sion to a Golgotha?
Hath the Tartarian Counseller invented
Such thriving Plots which cannot be prevented?
[Page 8]
Leave off base Acts Mechanicks, and begin
To deal uprightly, and reform within;
Bury your aged crimes, and then go call
Your stragling senses to the Funeral:
Adjourn your thoughts, which now are quite contrary
To Peace, and think a peace is necessary.
Honour your higher Powers, and do not mock
And vilifie them as your laughing stock.
There are a brain-sick multitude, a rabble
Of all Religions, that do dayly squabble
About vain shades, and let the substance pass,
Hating good manners as they hate the Mass:
'Tis such as these which thus my woes advance,
Whose very Souls are starv'd with ignorance:
'Tis such as these who dayly strive to smother
The truth with flattring zeal, & call him brother,
Nay holy brother; though his faith be small,
If he can rail, and reverently baul
Against grave Bishops, and their pious King,
Oh this is holy, nay a zealous thing:
And those are holy that can pray by chance
According to the Spirits influence,
And teach their prickear'd brethren to deny
The Common Prayer, but know no reason why;
And those whose great humility can be
Content to make a Pulpit in a tree,
Or in some Barn, there by the Spirit pray
Five or six hours, not caring what they say;
Or if a Black-smith or a Tinker can
Hammer out Treason, he's a zealous man
[Page 9]
Or if a learned Cobler will be sure
To stitch it close, oh he's a Christian pure!
Oh these are holy, yea and learned Teachers,
These are Divines, and only these are Preachers:
They'l cry all learned Prelats out of season,
They must not preach, for fear they should speak reaso~.
Oh these are they, whose ruder tongues can cry,
Advance Mechanicks, down with Majesty:
These, these are they, whose du~ghill thoughts could never
Attain perfection, but they still endeavor
To banish wisdom, that at last they may
Make all the world as ignorant as they.
See how they'ave turn'd my joy to griping sadness,
Plenty to want, and peace to downright madness;
Vertue to vice, and chastity to vainness,
Learning to scorn, Religion to prophaneness,
Flattry to zeal, and nonsence unto Reason,
Honor to shame, and Loyalty to Treason,
Pity to Murther, Truth to feigned lyes,
Prayers to curses, Plundring to a prize:
Thus, thus they gripe my Soul, and go about
To change my shape, and turn my inside out.
Unhumane Actions; Ah who can behold
Such Tyrannies, and not his blood grow cold!
Break, break, ye floodgates of my brimfil'd eyes,
And let my tears have passage to surprize
This Fort of sorrow, and tumultuous cares,
And drench the mountains in a Sea of tears.
Forbear, ye lowring skies; there is no need
Ye should disburse a showre: I have agreed
[Page 10]
With sorrow, and his powers still to remain
Clouded with grief, and f ll the Earth with rain;
Oh horrid, dismal, Heav'n provoking times,
Surpassing Sodoms; nay Gomorrah's crimes
Were ne're so bad; Oh Hell-invent-d fate,
Worse then the worst that I can nominate.
Are these my people, for whose sakes I lie
Involv'd with torments, wrapt in Tyranny?
Are these my Sons, whose sorrows now I weep?
Are these my children that are lul'd asleep?
See how secure they rest, and never fear
Approaching woe; mine eyes, can ye forbear
To vent ten thousand tears? Oh never let
Your lids conceal you, till y'ave paid the debt
Ye owe to sorrow, for those sins which thirst
For greater plenty, then can be disburst:
Oh sigh, sad Soul, until thy heart be sore,
Then sigh, because thou canst not sigh no more.
Oh that my voyce, like thunderclaps could tear,
And split the portals of each deafned ear;
That so my cries might ravish every brain,
And fil'd with horror, make them deaf again.
And this I wish because my Sons are all
So deaf, they will not hear me when I call:
Did they not flourish in a peaceful state,
Enjoying store of all things, till of late
They grew thus factious? and have I not been,
In former times, the worlds admired Queen?
Have not all Nations formerly been proud
To do me service? Have they not allow'd
[Page 11]
A due respect unto me every where,
And honored me, if not for love, for fear?
And must I now by your, your means incut
As many plagues as mischief can infer?
Must I now pine away, that have been strong?
Must I now stoop, that have stood up so long?
Must I be now subordinate to those
That never dat'd subscribe themselves my foes?
Must I be now divided, that was never
Divided yet? Must I be lost forever?
Must I be now consumed and thrown down?
And must they scoff me now, that dar'd not frown
In former times? Must I be now confounded?
Must I be now revil'd, and cal'd a Roundhead?
Must I be now nicknam'd? Must frighted fame
Sound a Retreat, and scorn to own my name?
Must I be now dispers'd? Must my own hand
Destroy the bounty of my fruitful Land?
Oh grief transcending thought, shall Englands glory
Be thus abstracted, and thus made a story
To after ages? Would not this perplex
A Soul, that never knew what 'twas to vex?
What grief can equalize my grief? What pain
Can be equivalent? Would any gain
Experience? If they would, may they incline
Themselves to this experienc'd grief of mine:
Ah grief of days; what marble eye can read
Of such extreams as mine, and never bleed?
'Twould dull the sharpest brain to meditate
Upon my grief; nay, make them desperate.
[Page 12]
Had Nero liv'd in this tempestuous age,
He might have blusht to see his boiling rage
Out-vi'd by yours; nay, Corah and his crew
Never pursu'd their Moses, as ye do,
With such untutor'd violence; 'tis strange,
Oh whither will your headlong fury range?
Advise by times, and know there is a God
That overlooks you: Know, that Moses Rod
May turn a greedy Serpent, and devour,
As well the greater, as the smaller power.
Go, go, ye sad contrivers of these times,
Consult with sorrow: think on all those crimes
Ye have committed; and then think what you
Have done, and after what ye have to do.
Advise with care, for your condition's such,
Y'ave much to do, because y'ave done too much.
Too much; Alas too much in my sad state
Is done already; and I fear too late
For remedy: And secret danger lies
In dull delay: 'tis wisdom to advise
Betimes; for true and timely care prevents
Untimely ruine, hindring the intents
Of studied malice; industry prepares
A balm for that which negligence impairs.
Those that by dreaming sloth, sustain a loss,
Obtain least pity, and the greatest cross.
Consider what a grief 'twill be to see
The sad distraction of this Monarchie,
Wrought by your slothful negligence, when all
My lofty structures by your hands must fall:
[Page 13]
Nay, worse then this, when famine shall devour
What fire and sword hath left; when every hour
The Bells shall toul, with such a feeble sound,
As if that they themselves a want had found.
Will it not melt a stone to hear the cries
Of hungry children, and the sad replies
Of their dejected friends? who can forbear
To think on this, and never shed a tear?
How children cry for bread, and fain would rest,
Seeking protections in their mothers brest?
Alas poor Orphans, how are they beguil'd,
When the sad mother's forc'd to eat the child
For want of food, & make their blood their drink!
Oh what a wounding sorrow 'tis to think
How all will be destroy'd, both young and old,
How warm blood will be mingled with the cold!
How you will roar and cry for want of bread,
Some on the ground, some dying, and some dead;
Some gnaw their flesh, and some fight who shal eat
Each other; O uncomfortable meat!
And then the ravening Wolves seek up and down
To find a prey, in every starved Town,
Shall eat deaths reliques; having spent that store,
Shall ransack up and down, and howl for more.
All beasts and fowls shall then amazed stand,
To see the Sea is turn'd into a Land:
The Land into a Sea, a Red Sea, where
Nothing but bones in stead of fishes are.
Where nothing's heard, but cries, and shrieks, and groans,
Where nothing's seen, except consuming bones.
[Page 14]
Oh had you but the power to apprehend
These sad destructive dangers, how they tend
Da ly towards us, with all the power that they
Can make, as if they'd rout us in one day:
Dull sons of men, have ye forgot to rise,
And draw the Curtains of your slumbring eyes?
Methinks this hot Alarum should affright
Your Souls for ever from your fond delight!
What do ye mean? ye cannot chuse but hear
Heav'ns thundring Judgments ratling in your ear
What, have ye sworn Allegiance to the Prince
Of utter darknesse? Will no words convince
Your Stubborn Souls? Has a perpetual vow
Been lately past betwixt Hells Prince and you?
Why do ye thus delight to overthrow
Your selves, and lose a Kingdom at one blow?
Oh where are my grand Rulers to correct
These their enormous humors, that infect
The world with Errors? To what fatal place
Are all my Senators retired?
You my Triennial Powers, come and dispose
Your ears to my discourse; and Ile disclose
My grief to you, whose Judgments can prescribe
A timely remedy without a bribe.
Then hark!
THe climing power of my disease is grown
To such a height, that I can hardly own
A minutes rest; my body politick
You apprehend (I know) is very sick:
[Page 15]
Then let the depth of understanding move
The depth of pity, that ye may remove
These growing inconveniences, that moan
For your assistance: Can a Kingdom groan,
And not be heard? Can a disease remain
within my body, and not I complain
O what I suffer? That were Tyrannie
Not to be paralel'd: O pity me,
And let the fervour of my language turn
Your thoughts to tears, to quench those flames that burn
My wasting intrals: Let your hearts relent
With meditating on my discontent:
Open your willing ears, and hear me call;
O do not fall a slumbring whilest I fall:
O hear me soon, that now complain too late:
Let my complaints make you compassionate;
Dissolve into a Sea of tears. Involve
Your selves with sackcloth. Let your minds revolve
Upon your native soil; resolve to spend
Your greatest skills, to consummate the end
Of my distractions; and let mercy joyn
With justice; so shall endless love combine
Your Souls: That like Ezekiels wheels ye may
Run one within another, and not stray:
But like Isaiahs Seraphims may cry,
O holy, holy, holy God on high.
But stay; nor can I end, my griefs must fly
A little further; Mountains that are high
Must be discovered: Molehills often times
Lie out of sight, like undiscovered crimes.
[Page 16]
A publike sorrow oftentimes admits
A cure from them, whose more concreted wits
Do dayly study with more active arts
More publique mischief with more private hearts.
Doth not the fawning Crocodile obtain
By publique sorrow her more private gain?
Doth not the crafty Lapwing cry the least
When she is nearest to her closemade nest?
Are there not those in this conniving age,
Whose outward meekness is but inward rage?
Are there not those in these contentious times,
That live by nothing but their private crimes?
Oh grief to speak it: Are there not a sort
Of wilful people that can make a sport
At others ruines, whose pretended zeal
Hath bred much mischief in this Common-weal?
Are there not those that would pretend to be
Reformers, yet deform a Monarchie?
Are there not those, whose upstart honors crave
Perpetual durance, only to enslave
The Sons of Honor? Thus they play the thief,
And joy in nothing, but in others grief.
Are there not those, who in one breath can cry
Against a Lyar, yet can forge a lye
for their advantage, and abjure the Laws?
Lyes are no lyes, if they advance their Cause.
Are there not those that persecute the Arts,
And yet retain Monopolizing hearts?
Are there not those that dayly take delight
To twist themselves into anothers right?
[Page 17]
Do not all these, which I have nam'd, pretend
To do all this, to a religious end?
And ah Religion! how art thou betray'd
By those, whose worthless industry have layd
Thine honor in the dust; nay, and have thrown
Dirt in their faces, that shall dare to own
Thy very name? these are a sort of people
That love no Church, because they hate the steeple.
I dare affirm, that Proteus ne'er could be
So much transform'd, as they have transform'd thee:
Nor can I yet conclude; I must deplore
My greater sorrows, yet a little more:
Let no man take exceptions, for I speak
Unto my self; sorrow must finde a leak.
I cannot hold; and O that I were able
To make my feeble tongue infatigable,
That by my full expressions I may prove
How much the Serpent overrules the Dove.
There was a time (not long since) when my fits
Had found as expiation, if those wits
(Which prov'd too serpentine) had not delayd
Their toosoon violated vows, and playd
A double game: I even blush to name
What odds they had, and how they lost the game.
The world (though sad) is not so melancholly,
But that it smiles at, and records that folly:
The breach of vows cracks honor, and the loss
Of opportunity deserves a cross
n honors book; and he that shall neglect
A publique good, shall finde a bad respect
[Page 18]
In private hearts, and ruine must attend
A publique Actor, for a private end.
Are there not those hate Rome, and yet make roo
For Catiline, and labor to entomb
His vile prescriptions in their Romish thoughts,
And yet excuse themselves, and him, from faults
Do I not see them how they run his paths
With headlong force, and prosecute his Laws?
Do I not see their Agents, how they strive
To ruine others, and to keep alive
Themselves, that liv'd not, till this greedy age
Rak'd them from dunghils, to adorn the Stage
Of Hell-bred Tyranny? Do I not see
How much they'r honor'd for their Tyranny?
The Salamander, when he's crown'd with i
Is in his Kingdom; if his Crown expire,
His life concludes: Tell me what then remains
Except the reliques of consuming flames?
Even so the Salamanders of these days
(Whose hearts are made of flames) at last will blaz
And smother into ashes: Thus declin'd,
What can they leave (except a stink) behinde?
Each thing must live within its element;
Discretion tells us, fishes must content
Themselves with water; and all things must live
Content with that which Heav'n was pleas'd to giv
'Tis onely man that surfeits with desire:
The earth, the ayr, the water, quickning fire,
And all was made for man, and man was made
Of all these things: O let it not be said,
[Page 19]
That fire predominates, and breeds contest
Within my bowels, and destroys the rest.
O strive, now your unruly flames arise,
To quench your hearts with water from your eyes:
Strive not with Catiline, that lavish creature,
To stop great mischiefs, by enacting greater.
But tell me now, how can your thoughts reflect
Upon a Peace, when as ye disrespect
The principle? 'tis an uncertain way
To gain a Peace by Arms; for every day
Will breed new tumults, which will in conclusion
Inviron you with Armies of confusion:
Peace cannot swim in blood, blood cannot stand
Like pools of water in a peaceful Land.
Delight not thus in contraries; forsake
Your former ways, let not your hearts partake
Of blood, and raine, Heav'n will never own
A blood-bedab'led Soul: 'Tis not unknown
How ye have belch'd out oaths, & vow'd to bring
Peace to your Country, honor to your King:
Now wher's your Countries peace? now wher's the glory
Your King was promis'd? O nefandous story!
Can peace and strife cohabitate? Can fame
And glory be imprison'd? 'Tis your shame,
Not his dishonor, that ye perpetrate
Such horrid acts: I tremble to relate
What I have suffer'd: Is't not you that have
Exploded all my comforts? You that crave
(Like greedy Cormorants) still more and more,
Pretending charity, yet starve the poor?
[Page 20]
Was it not you, whose active hands provided
To pull down Crosses, that have thus divided
My yeelding people? Can ye now pull down
These Crosses ye have builded? You that crown
Your hearts with malice, will you always stand
In opposition? will you still command
In spight of Fortune? will ye always be
Majestique too, in spight of Majestie?
I may affirm, that never Nation had
So good a King, whose Subjects are so bad.
Do ye not see how Heav'n hath pleas'd to smile
Upon his Soul, and bless him all this while
With longcontinued patience? It is he
He is a second Job, whose patience can
Outvy the base indignities of man:
Go ransack Europe, see if you can finde
A more composed Prince, whose noble minde
Can entertain a grief, and never vent
(But turn) his passion into blest content;
Whole volumns of his grief may be exprest;
And since I dare not speak, I'l weep the rest.
O stop my tears, or else my eyes will flow
Into a deluge; for my sorrows know
No mean at all; extreams of tears must fall
For such extreams of grief: Attend me all,
Whose hearts are not too flinty; I'l declare
Your Soveraigns suffering, with your Soveraigns care
How many widowed night has his sad heart
Worn out with sorrow, having none t'impart
[Page 21]
His thoughts unto, except he please to spend
His language on the ears of such a friend
As Haman was; whose unrestrained power
Punisht his own offence in half an hour.
Judg you, whose hearts have vow'd a double life,
What are th' endearments of a tender wife.
Judg you (what 'tis) whom bounteous Heav'n hath blest
With numerous offsprings, to be dispossest
Of those encreasing comforts, which discry
No real joy, but in their parents eye.
And if th' enjoyment of these blessings yeeld
Such large content, needs must the want unshield
The Soul of comfort: O unhappy fate!
Who'd be a father at so dear a rate?
A wife, unhappy, happy word; a wife
Happy ofttimes to an unhappy life:
A wife, that word importeth joys
Unparallel'd; that very word destroys
Armies of grief, and oftentimes it brings
A heav'nly sorrow to the hearts of Kings;
And curs'd be they, heav'n gives me leave to speak,
That shall presume to separate, or break
Conjugal bands; How many in this Land
Lie subject to this curse? how many stand
Amaz'd, almost distracted, that have been
Actors? Heav'n bless my King, protect my Queen;
How many false aspersions have you cast
Upon their heads? Did ye not strive to blast
Their spotless honors? What was spoke of late,
I hate to think, much more to nominate:
[Page 22]
Admit it had been truth, then had ye not
Prov'd much unjust, to leave so large a blot
Within this Kingdom: Thus you can discry
Inferior molehils, but let mountains lie.
But tell me then, is this the onely way
To make a glorious King? Heaven grant he may
Want such obnoxious honor, till he crave
Honor from you, to whom he honors gave:
Consider well, and ye will finde it true,
'Twas heav'n that made him glorious, & not you:
'Twas he that fill'd his Soul with true renown,
And crown'd his Cross as you have crost his crown
Heav'n breaks no Covenants, he never fails,
He never unvotes what he votes, or rails
Against his enemies, but grieves to see
Their Souls run headlong to their destinie.
Abused Peace perverts into a Curse:
What can be better, or what may be worse
Then Peace, whose presence (like the Sun) display
Its golden Ensigns; whose refulgent rays
Adorns the Earth, and fills the gazing eye
With glorious light, and peaceful Majesty?
But when rude Boreas summons all his pow'r,
And argues with the Seas; In half an hour
You may behold a change: they which before
Were wrapt in silence, now begin to roar
Into a fury; contradictions bring
Endless disputes: Shall Boreas be a King,
And rule th' unruly w vves? (when surges meet
How rudely do they part, how rudely great!)
[Page 23]
Whilest peaceful Zephyrus must be deny'd
To breathe upon the floods? Can storms abide
For ever? No: rash Boreas must at last
Submit to Zephyrus; whose milder blast
Proclaims a sudden Peace, and strives to grace
The simp'ring Ocean with a smoother face.
But whither am I hurried? slack my sails,
I fly beyond my Port; I finde the gales
Of grief are too robustuous, and I doubt
I cannot anchor here, but tack about.
Seven years are now compleated since my grief
Had its initiation, yet relief
Stands at a distance; Peace is in a doubt
Whether to come within, or stay without.
Your rash proceedings and your great disgraces
Make Peace even blush to look you in the faces:
O miserable men that live to know
Such Times, such a reduplicating wo!
Is there no art remains? Is there no way
To set you right, that thus have gone astray?
Is there no faithful Lot to pray for Peace,
And stop the cause, that so th' effect may cease?
Is there no Jonah dare proclaim, and cry
Unto the sons of men, Destruction's nigh?
But are they all asleep, now sorrows swarm?
(O how can they repose in such a storm!)
Rouze slumbring Souls, and lift your heads above
The decks of negligence; The God of Love
Will be too angry, if you sleep too long:
Advance your thoughts, and let your pray'rs be strong
[Page 24]
For me, who am thus weak, and must decay,
Except this griefencreasing Remora
Be wip'd away; O may I not offend
The Auditor of Heav'n, if I shall spend
Some words to this effect; I must confess
Dear God, I am corrupted, I address
My self to thee; O let thy healing hand
Prescribe a Balsam for this bleeding Land:
I have been too progressive, grant I may
Be retrograded to my former way:
Spoyl not the path because I step'd aside,
Correct my feet, and let the path abide.
What though the path be something rough and small,
Better's a rough path then no path at all;
For now I ramble up and down, and see
No certainty, except of miserie.
Is it discretion to pull down a fair
Cathedral Church because one spider's there?
Is it discretion to condemn the Sun
Because the Dials false? the Times must run
Their revolutions; set the Dial right,
Then you'l not want a truth till Sol wants light.
Let all things move within their orbs; suppose
Th' inferior lights should labor to depose
The Prince of light, and drive him from his throne,
And by an usurpation make't their own:
What strange aspects would this produce t'affright
Supine Astronomers, to see that light,
Which was at distance, now approach so neer,
And blaze in an improper Haemisphere!
[Page 25]
Consider then, would not the Stars let fall
Too great an influence, the Sun too small,
On humane bodies? O may they remain
In their own Region, then would Sol again
Enjoy his just prerogatives, and feed
The world with such a lustre, as I need:
Peace is the light I want, could I obtain
But Peace, how soon should I survive again!
Peace is the best Physician, I require
Nothing but Peace to quench my hot desire.
A good Physician will be sure to see,
E're he prescribes, where lies the maladie;
Then he'l begin to study, and to try
What may be best; whether Phlebotomy
Be good, and if it be, opens a vein,
And so restores his Patients ease again:
Thus, thus, grand authors of my woes, should you
Have done at first, if ye had been but true
To me; but when at first my griefs you saw
Ye thought it good to purge me with your Law:
having purg'd me, ye began to see
How weak I was, and what a low degree
Y'ad brought me to, and then ye fell at strife,
By killing me, how to preserve my life.
You brought strange Doctors to me, whose advice
I'm sure was purchas'd by too high a price:
They bid me lift my arms up to my head,
And stir my Body; for diseases bred
For want of exercise: they bid me play
A game or two at Irish every day.
[Page 26]
I took th' advice, then I begun to finde
A sudden alteration, and my minde
Was so transported, that me thoughts the ground
Began to dance, and I my self turn'd round:
I fell into a trance, with this presumption,
And ever since I've liv'd in a Consumption.
Let this example all the world assure,
An English Grief will have no Scottish Cure.
And so farewel, if these be your conditions,
Henceforth you may proveBut not Physicians

1.1.2. Englands Petition to Heaven.

AH me! Ah me! can nothing but Ah me
Fly from my barren heart (dear God) to thee?
Ah me! and why will not that word import
Ten thousand pray'rs, that so I may resort
Unto thy ears by Troops? then would I run
Division on ah me, till Time were done.
Weak as I am, distracted, and defil'd,
I prostitute my self, not as a childe
Of Sin, but as a Parent that has had
A numerous offspring;
Now my heart is sad,
O grant that my unfeigned grief may grow
Upon a real graft, that I may show
The fruit of perfect sorrow, and declare
How great my sins, how great thy mercies are:
Storm thou my sins, and force them to retreat,
And make my craving brest thy mercies seat:
[Page 27]
Strike thou my flinty Soul, that my desires
May, from a spark, encrease to flames; Thy fires
Must thaw my Icy Soul, or else I shall
Remain for ever a congealed Gall:
I am compos'd of steel, and cannot bow,
thy dear instructions teach me how:
Attract me by the loadstone of thy grace,
That through thy mercies I may see thy face;
And having view'd it, I may never more
Return to what I Idoliz'd before;
I have a Lydia's heart, in mercy please
To open it, thy mercies are the keyes:
Ravish my Soul, that I may fall in love
With thee, my God, with thee, that art a Dove
Of innocency: Let my raptures mount
As high as Heav'n, that there I may recount
Thy never failing love, and sing thy praise
With Davids heart, until the last of days:
Tune thou my stupid Soul, and then it shall
Be truly sweet, and heav'nly musical:
Convert my swords to sighs, that I my fight
With my own crimes, and hate to take delight
To lacerate my self. O tye the hands
Of fury! make me stoop to thy commands.
Convert my tydes of blood to streams of tears,
My lyes to truths, my horrid oaths to pray'rs:
Make me to apprehend how thou hast wept
Of late for me, whilest I securely slept.
Let not thy tears destroy me, but let me
to tears (dear God) and weep to thee:
[Page 28]
Is it the heat of my offences make
The Heav'ns to melt, (O Heav'n some pity take!)
Or has thy great discretion thought it good
To send these showres to wash away that blood
VVhich I have lost; I know thy purer eyes
Cannot endure a bloody sacrifice.
O stop thy bottle, pity my sad times,
And grant to me more tears or fewer crimes!
Be pleas'd to view me with a gracious eye,
And let the lustre of thy Majesty
Reflect upon me, let thy glorious light
Create a day of mercy, that the night
sin may be expel'd; O hear my pray'rs
Usher'd unto thee with a tyde of tears.
To me, O let thy mercies be exprest,
And fill the concave of a sinful brest;
Sinful, ah sinful, more then I am able
VVith language to express, intolerable:
Behold my festred Soul, whose wounds proceed
From sin, and being drest with sin, they bleed;
They bleed (dear Heav'n) they bleed, O what a flood
A flood they make! and I am bath'd in blood:
O stop this current that does still begin,
Or I shall drown a Kingdom in my sin:
O look upon me, and in mercy please
To send me salve to palliate my disease:
Begin to hear (O GOD) begin to send,
That so my sorrows may begin to end.

1.2.

[Page 29]

1.2.1. THE LAMENTATIONS OF JEREMIAH.
CHAP. I.

Contents.
1 The miserable estate of Jerusalem by reason of her sins, 12 She complaineth of her grief, 18 and confesseth Gods judgments to be righteous.
  1. HOw doth the City, that was blest of late
    With store of people, now lament her state?
    How like a poor distressed widow she
    Deplores her sorrows, that was wont to be
    Great among Nations? greater far then any;
    How tributary is she now to many?
  2. [Page 30]
    She drowns her blushing cheeks with midnight tears,
    And from her lovers can obtain no pray'rs:
    Her friends, arm'd all with treachery, arise
    And shew themselves her publique enemies:
  3. Spurr'd with affliction, Judah's forc'd to fly,
    And throw her self into Captivity;
    B cause of sense consuming servitude
    She dwells amongst the Heathen multitude:
    Her Foes o'retook her when she was distrest;
    Well might she wish for, but could take no rest.
  4. Sion is with redoubled grief surpriz'd,
    Because her feasts by none are solemniz'd:
    Her Gates are fill'd with desolation, and
    Her Virgins tortur'd with afflictions hand:
    Her Priests with sighs, heart-breaking
    sighs, express
    Their grief: Ah Sion's fill'd with bitterness!
  5. Her chiefest people are her chiefest foes;
    Just Heav'n with these innumerable woes
    Plagues her transgressions; and the enemy
    Drives her dear Children to Captivity.
  6. And that rare beauty, which adorn'd and grac'd
    Sions dear daughter, is of late defac'd:
    Her Princes fly, and ransack all about,
    Like hungry Harts, to finde a pasture out:
    They all are fled, and flying, can procure
    No strength t'oppose the merciless pursuer.
  7. But when Jerusalem was thus confin'd
    T'afflictions lawless bounds, she call'd to minde
    Her by past pleasures, and those days which she
  8. [Page 31]
    For now her crying sins are grown so great,
    That Heav'n hath thrown her from his mercies seat:
    All those that lov'd her, yea and highly priz'd her,
    Seeing her shameful nakedness, despis'd her:
    She sighs & turns her back, as though she'd borrow
    A private breath t'express a publique sorrow:
  9. For being fill'd with wickedness, Her end
    She never thought of, neither had she friend
    To comfort her: O Lord my God, behold
    My great afflictions: Ah my foe grows bold,
  10. And magnifies himself: His stretch'dout hand
    Hath spoyld the pleasures of my fruitful Land:
    The very Heathen, whom thou didst deny
    Congregation, do contemn, defie
    Thy just commands; and with unseemly paces
    Inforce an entrance to thy holy places.
  11. Her bread-desiring people, fill'd with grief,
    Give their chief treasures for a small relief:
    Behold, O Lord, consider my distress,
    For I am vile, and fill'd with wickedness.
  12. Oh stop your hasty feet, ye that pass by,
    And look upon my new-bred misery;
    Sum up the totals of all grief, then borrow
    A million more; 'Tis nothing to that sorrow
    Which I support, wherewith the angry power
    Hath pleas'd t'afflict me in His wrathful hour:
  13. For he from his all-ruling throne hath sent
    Into my bones a fiery Government:
    Yea, and his ever-active hand hath set,
    [Page 32]
    And I am desolate, and fainting lie;
    Being turn'd from him, am turn'd to misery.
  14. Fast to my servile neck He hath bound on
    The wreathed yoke of my transgression;
    Impair'd my strength, and by His just commands
    'm thrown into my persecutors hands,
    Where I, remorsless I, must still remain,
    Voyd of all hope to be enlarg'd again.
  15. His unresisted strength hath broke the bones,
    And made a footstool of my Mighty Ones:
    A great Assembly He hath call'd that may
    Punish my youngmen that will not obey;
    And Judahs fairest Virgin Daughter's trod
    As in a winepress by th' Almighty God.
  16. And O these sorrows, O these miseries
    Stir up a tempest in my clouded eyes!
    Mine eyes, mine eyes, run o're, I dayly spend
    More tears then any brain can apprehend:
    My foes prevail, my children all are led
    Into Captivity, my hopes are fled.
  17. Sion spreads forth her feeble arms t'express
    She seeks for comfort, but is comfortless.
    The Lord of hoasts commands that Jacobs eyes
    Shall round about him see his enemies;
    And poor despis'd, distrest Jerusalem
    Is as a menstruous woman amongst them.
  18. My God is just, yet I, rebellious I,
    Transgrest against his glorious Majesty:
    O hear my people, let your ears but borrow
    A minutes time, from Time, to hear my sorrow!
    [Page 33]
    My Virgins and my young men all are fled
  19. Into Captivity; my Priests are dead:
    My Friends refuse to hear me when I call;
    For want of food my hungry Elders fall.
  20. O Lord, behold, see how I am opprest,
    My heart thumps at the portals of my brest:
    Oh I have sinned, and my sins indite me;
    Abroad the Sword, at home grim Death affrights me.
  21. My friends have heard my groaning, and my grief
    Is known to them; But I know no relief:
    My foes with clamorous voyces fill the Earth,
    And make my grief the subject of their mirth:
    But Heav'n hath nam'd a day when these my foes
    Shall be Copartners in my mock'd at woes.
  22. O God, let not their faults be hid from thee,
    But deal with them as thou hast dealt with me:
    My heart is faint, my struggling sighs are many,
    My griefs too great to be exprest by any.

1.2.2. Meditatio in Capitulum.

IF thou wouldst know, my Soul, what har s attend
A sinners progress to his journeys end;
Here, here thou mayst, if with impartial eyes
Thou wilt observe the unsatiate miseries
Of poor Jerusalem, whose tedious groans,
Whose sighs, and sobs, and tears, the world bemoans.
[Page 34]
Observe her heedless steps, and thou shalt know
Sin was the Author of her selfwill'd Wo.
'Twas sweet at first, but sowre in th' event,
That little word assumes a large extent:
Where Sin predominates, there we may find
The inconvenience of a troubl'd mind:
For when the mind's perplex'd, then we begin
Either to fall to, or to fall from Sin:
For like the restless Sea she's active still,
And always agitating good or ill;
If well imploy'd, she builds a wall about
The Soul, to keep approaching dangers out:
But if she spends her thriftless hours in Evil,
She makes a banquet to invite the Devil,
Who with his subtle and misguiding force
Will reinvite her to a second course:
And then let Christians judg how much disquiet
That Soul sustains that loves the Devils dyet.
Ah then my Soul, if thou desir'st to be
Exempted from the lot of miserie,
Make Heav'n thy refuge; there thou mayst be sure
To find contentment, and repose secure:
Thou needst not fear, there is no poys'nous thing
Can wound that Soul that truly loves his King:
Nor all the malice mortals can invent,
Shall add to thee one mite of discontent:
There is no sorrow, no calamity
T'oppress thy thoughts; No wrylook'd enemy
T'upbraid thy actions: then my Soul advise
How much it profits to be heav'nly wise.
[Page 35]
Ah had Jerusalem (whose grief no pen
Can e're engrave into the hearts of men)
Been wisely wary, she had never known
Those late reap'd sorrows, which her sins had sown:
Had she but search'd her bosom, and contriv'd
Her actions well, her glory had surviv'd:
Had she with Davids tears in time repented,
Those uncorrected sins her heart lamented,
She had not felt those judgments which did wait
Upon the ruines of her falling State:
But whilst her eyes were muffl'd and deluded,
Folly came in, where Reason was excluded.
Needs must that Kingdom unto ruine run,
Where Folly sets and rises with the Sun.
Like as the body that's oppress'd with grief.
Can neither hope for, nor obtain relief,
Till the disease be known; there's none can tell
The rage of sickness that was always well.
Even so Jerusalem, because that she
Judg'd not the Reason of her Miserie
Till she was past recovery, could never
Have health restor'd her, but was sick for ever.
Alas! alas! that Kingdom needs must fall,
That has a grief so Epidemical.
Had she but like the Ninevites in time
Stop'd those distemp'ring humors which did climb
Above her strength, her grief had quickly ended,
And Heav'n revok'd those judgments he intended.
Med'cines are vain things when apply'd too late,
And through delay a grief grows desperate.
[Page 36]
He that is Sinsick is in bad condition,
Except Heav'n please to be his Souls Physician:
And if God once deny his Patient bliss,
Whose must the fault be, when the fault's not his?
Alas! alas! 'tis but in vain for any
To strive to cure one grief, that had so many
As sad Jerusalem had; her plagues were more
Then all the world could reckon up before:
She had a Monop'ly, she need not borrow,
She was the Hierogliphick of all sorrow.
Yet if in time she'd made repentant moan,
Heav'n could have cur'd them all as well as one.
There is no Sin, let it be great or small,
But Heav'n can find a balsam for them all.
My Soul, thou art my Monarch, therefore I
May boldly look into thy Monarchy.
First praise thou Heav'n, then learn to be content
With what he sends thee; let thy government
Be still Monarchical, and fenc'd about
With fervent prayers, to keep Sedition out.
Let watch and ward be kept, lest Traytor Sin
Betray thee; Let not Faction come within
Thy lists: And still be careful to surprize
Rebellious thoughts, as soon as they arise:
For if they once appear within thy borders,
They'l breed confusion, and confus'd disorders.
Learn to be wisely politick, and be
Ready to let Religion counsel thee.
Let Reason be thy guide, and let thy Laws
Be truly executed; Let thy Cause
[Page 37]
Be just and real: then my Soul, be sure
To let thy fundamental Laws endure,
Till he that sits on the refulgent Throne
Shall take thee hence, and keep thee for his own.

1.3. CHAP. II.

Contents.
1 Jeremiah lamenteth the misery of Jerusalem. 20 He complaineth thereof to God.
  1. BEhold! Heav'ns Metropolitan hath spread
    His gloomy clouds of anger on the head
    Of sad Jerusalem: He hath destroy'd
    Those bounteous treasures Israel enjoy'd;
    And from his mem'ry hath his footstool thrown,
    When he with floods of anger was o'reflown.
  2. And Jacobs habitations he unfram'd,
    And wrathfully consum'd them: Thus inflam'd
    The strongest Castles Judahs Daughter had,
    He tumbled down, and made her people sad:
    And he, to shew what his grand power could do,
    Defil'd the Kingdom and the Princes too.
    His twoedg'd passion hath cut off the horn
    And Chief of Israel, made him a scorn
  3. [Page 38]
    To his deriding Foes, and also stayd,
    Yea and withdrawn his right hand from his ayd:
    His fury like an all consuming flame
    Burn'd against Jacob, and devour'd his name.
  4. His wrestless arm hath bent his yeelding bow;
    He stood resolved like a dauntless foe:
    And in the Tabernacle he hath flew
    The eyes delight, like fire his anger flew.
  5. He threw down Israels strongest scituations,
    And fill'd Jerusalem with lamentations.
  6. And like a fruitless garden hath layd voyd
    Th' infected Tabernacle. and destroy'd
    Th' Assemblies structures; and an angry wind
    Hath blown their Feasts and Sabbaths from his mind;
    Both Kings & Priests in anger he forgot,
    And look'd on them as if he saw them not.
  7. His holy places, and his Altar he
    Abhor'd; and gave unto the Enemie
    Her fairest Palaces: their illtun'd voyces,
    As on a feastday, fill'd the Church with noises.
  8. His hand stretch'd forth a line, when he intended
    To ruine Sion that so much offended:
    He hath resolv'd destruction; therefore all
    The rampart languish'd with the gliding wall.
  9. He hath destroy'd, and batter'd down her grates,
    The gaping Earth imbowel'd all her Gates
    Her King and Princes dwell with Gentiles; and
    Her Laws are banish'd from her lawless Land
    Her Prophets gaze about; the frowning skies
    Do represent no vision to their eyes.
  10. [Page 39]
    Her mournful Elders on the ground repose,
    And silently consent unto their woes:
    They cloth'd themselves with sackcloth, and they crown'd
    Their heads with dust they borrowed from the ground:
    No joys were pleasing to the eys of them
    That were the Virgins of Jerusalem.
  11. My bowels yern, my teardistilling eyes
    Are sore with gazing on the miseries
    Of frail Jerusalem: Alas, the feet
    Of her dear sucklings stagger in the street!
  12. And like the wounded in the City, send
    Their sighs for food unto their dearest friend:
    And whilst they slumbred on their mothers brest,
    They pour'd their Souls into eternal rest.
  13. What shall I witness for thee, O thou Gem,
    Thou pining Daughter of Jerusalem?
    To what shall I compare thee? What can be,
    Sions Daughter, equal unto thee?
    Let all the world recure thee, if they can;
    For Ah, thy breach is like the Ocean!
  14. Alas, thy purblind Prophets all have been
    Hoodwink'd with folly, & vain things have seen:
    But ne'er discover'd thine iniquity,
    Which was the cause of thy captivity.
    Their misinformed senses were content
    To see false Reasons for thy Banishment.
  15. All that past by, and saw thee thus decaying,
    Clapt their rude hands, yea hist at thee, thus saying;
  16. Is this the City that the wordlings call
    Beauties perfection? This the joy of all?
    [Page 40]
    Thy foes revile thee, and as they pass by
    They gnash their teeth against thee; thus they cry,
    This is the day we look'd for, now we know
    She is destroy'd, we see her overthrow.
  17. That which the King of Heav'n devised, now
    He hath enacted and fulfil'd his vow:
    He hath thrown down without remorse, O see,
    Thy adversaries triumph over thee.
    This hath th' Almighty done for them, at length
    He made the~ strong, yea & advanc'd their strength.
  18. They mov'd the Lord with their uncessant cries;
    O wall of Sions daughter, let thine eyes
    Run down like rivers, give thy self no sleep;
    Forget to smile, and practise how to weep.
  19. Arise, and in the silent night bemoan
    Thy grief; O cry unto th' Almighty One:
    In the beginning of the watch implore
    Thy growing sorrows; make a flood before
    Th' Eternals face: O crave that he would please
    To sent thy young, faint, hungry children ease.
  20. Consider Lord, to whom thou'st done this great, lie
    This unrepented ill: Shall women eat
    Their spanlong children? Shall thy slain Priests
    Tomb'd with thy Prophet in thy Sanct'ary?
  21. The young and old have shar'd in equal harms,
    They lie and tumble in each others arms:
    Upon the flinty streets my Virgins fall,
    With my young men; the sword disliv'd them all:
    Thus in thine anger hast thou struck them dead,
    Thus hast thou kill'd, and never pitied.
  22. [Page 41]
    As in a solemn day, my terrors round
    About thou'st called, so that none was found
    In the Lords day of anger to remain:
    Those that I swadled and brought up, in vain
    I brought them up; the enemy infum'd
    Envy'd this off-spring, and their days consum'd.

1.4. Meditatio in Capitulum.

SEe, see, my Soul, what Heav'n hath done! O see
What 'tis t'offend a pow'rful Majestie!
Go, go, and quickly tell the sons of men
What 'tis to rouze a Lion from his Den:
Bid them keep peace and quietness in Sion;
Bid them turn Lambs, or Heav'n will turn a Lion.
Bid them take notice, she that was the stem
Of honour, now is poor Jerusalem.
Alas! alas! experience made her know
Griefs abstract, and the quintescence of wo.
And ah my Soul! who knows the course of sorrow?
There 'tis to day, it may be here to morrow.
Then have a care, let thy well tutor'd grief
Know rather how to purchase a relief,
Then plagues and torments; Let thy sober will
Be sway'd by reason; let thy reason still
Lead thee to meditation: then begin
To search thy self, and cypher up thy sin.
[Page 42]
Having thus done, thou quickly wilt discry
Thy grief, and where th' imperious humors lie;
And having found them out, let no delay
Damage thy Soul, but quickly haste away;
And from the bottom of thy heart confess
Thy greatest sins; so Heav'n may make them less.
O kiss the Son; for if his anger be,
Yea but a little kindled, blest is he
Whose groping Soul his seal'd up mercies found,
And cast his anchor in so firm a ground.
Heav'n smiles on them whose oft-repeated pray'r
Expands their sins, & makes their God their care.
But when revolting negligence shall call
Confounding ruine from th' imperial hall
Of Heav'ns high-seated Palace, and invite
A dreadful vengeance, to eclipse the light
Of a resplendent happiness; and double
The lab'ring Soul with interposing trouble:
Ah, then our pleasures shall be turn'd to toys,
And sudden grief shall expiate our joys!
And like Jerusalem, confus'd shall we
Wander and languish in obscuritie:
Then, then our down-cast spirits shall lament,
moan their just deserved punishment:
Then shall our Peace be drawn unto an end,
Then shall we look for, but shall find no friend:
Then shall our sad Embassadors prepare,
And mount to Heav'n, but find no audience there:
Then shall our blubber'd eyes in vain let slide
Innumerable tears: then shall the Tyde
[Page 43]
Of Heav'ns high-flowing anger rage and roar,
And dash against our sin-polluted shore:
Then shall we run, and in our running, meet
Th' obvious sword in the blood-streaming street:
Then shall our hasty trembling feet retire
To our sad houses; there shall Death require
Th' arrears of sorrow· Lingring Famine shall
Like to a lean-cheek'd Fury grasp us all:
And from our strouting veins shall squeez a flood,
A luke-warm deluge of diffused blood.
Then shall our children with their midnight cries
Lament for food; Then shall their mothers eyes
Bedew their bosoms with the falling showres
Of dribling tears: Then shall their lothed hours
Haste to an end; And having thus exprest
Their woes, shall creep into Eternal rest.
Then shall the early melancholly Bells
Sound mournful peals for their sad last farewels.
Ah now my Soul! Can any griefs outvy.
Such griefs as these? Can any heart deny
The justness of these Judgments? If they do,
May they feel Sodoms and Gomorrahs too.
Heav'n cannot be unjust; No, no, 'tis we
Provoking sinners are unjust, not he.
Shall we offend, and shall we every day
Hale down his Judgments on our backs, then lay
The burthen of our faults on him, and cry,
Like Traytor Judas, Master is it I?
No, no, we must not; but let every one
Unbosom all his actions, and make known
[Page 44]
His misdemeanors; then if any can
Plead himself guiltless, he's a happy man.
Find out but ten good men, and for their sake
Heav'n will deduct a thousand plagues, and sha...
Ten thousand more from his incensed brest,
And for their sakes will give ten thousand rest.
Sodom can witness Heav'n brooks no denyal,
He had sav'd all, had ten been found but loyal.
Oh blind and foolish is that City, when
Ten thousand doubled cannot number ten.

1.5. CHAP. III.

1.5.1.

Contents.
1 The faithful bewail their calamities. 22 By the mercies of God they nourish their hopes. 37 They acknowledg Gods Justice. 55 They pray for deliverance, 64 and vengeance on their enemies.
  1. 'TIs I have seen affliction by the rod,
    Th' impetuous anger of the wrathful God.
  2. He with a pitchy darkness mask'd my sight,
    And hath not cloth'd me with the robes of light.
  3. He turn'd his hand against me all the day;
  4. He broke my bones, and made my flesh decay.
  5. [Page 45]
    His lab'ring fury hath built up a wall
    Against me, and surrounded me with gall.
  6. In dungeon places he me set, like those
    Which in their graves have had a long repose.
  7. And he hath made my toilsom chains to be
    Heavy; He hedg'd me from my libertie.
  8. And when I shout and cry he will not hear,
    But makes my pray'r a stranger to his ear.
  9. He hath inclosed me with stones that stay
    My hasty steps, he hath incurv'd my way.
  10. And as a lurking Bear observes my paces,
    Or as a Lion in the secret places.
  11. He turn'd me from my ways, disturb'd my state,
    Pull'd me in pieces, made me desolate.
  12. He bent his Bow, and made my trembling heart
    The aym'dat object of his fatal dart.
  13. He caus'd his quivered guests t'inforce my veins,
    And take a large possession in my reins.
  14. I was my peoples laughing stock, their song
    Was tuned to my mischief all day long.
  15. He fill'd me full of bitterness and wo,
    And made me drunk with nauseous wormwood too.
  16. He brake my teeth with gravel stones, and he
    With heaps of ashes hath involved me.
  17. Banish'd my Soul from Peace, Prosperity
    Is quite relapsed from my memory.
  18. said, my strength, my very hope is even
    Wasted and perish'd from the Lord of Heav'n.
  19. Ponder my woes, and my afflictions all,
    Remember both the honey and the gall.
  20. [Page 46]
    These things do still in my remembrance rest,
    And ah, my Soul is humbled in my brest!
  21. This I recall to my swiftroving mind,
    Therefore I hope, and hoping, hope to find.
  22. It is the mercy of the Lord we sail
    So safe; for his compassions never fail.
  23. They're every morning new; thy faithfulness
    Is great, and greater then I can express.
  24. The Lord's my portion, saith my Soul; and I
    Will therefore hope unto Eternity.
  25. And that just Soul, which day
  26. 'Tis good that man should hope and wait upon
    Th' Almighties pleasure and salvation.
  27. 'Tis good for man to exercise the truth,
    And bear the yoke of his offending youth.
  28. He sits alone, and silently makes known,
    He bears no other burthen then his own.
  29. His humbled mouth salutes the dusty ground,
    As if some hopes of mercy may be found.
  30. He's fill'd with shame, he willingly invites
    T'a second stroke the hand of him that smites.
  31. For they that strive, and really endeavor,
    God will not leave, nor cast them off for ever.
  32. He will have pity, though he sends a grief;
    In multitudes of mercy lies relief.
  33. He doth not punish, nor augment the smart
    Of sinners children with a willing heart.
  34. His feet take no delight to crush to death
    Th' offending pris'ners of th' inferior earth.
  35. [Page 47]
    To turn away mans right (his heart abhors)
    Before the face of their superiors.
  36. And to subvert a man in his just cause,
    The Lord approveth not, 'tis not his Laws.
  37. And who is he whose spend-thrift tongue dare say,
    This thing shall come to pass, when Heav'n says nay?
  38. Out of the mouth of him that's God indeed
    There doth not evil, but known good proceed.
  39. Why doth a living man with grumbling thoughts
    Complain as one that's punisht for his faults?
  40. Let's search, let's try our ways, let's turn again
    To God, and he will turn away our pain.
  41. And let our hands b'extended with our Souls
    To Heav'ns Star-chamber, where our God controuls.
  42. We have rebelliously transgrest, and thou,
    Thou hast not pard'ned with a cheerful brow.
  43. Thine anger hath o'reshadowed us, thou hast
    Slain without pity, we thy anger taste.
  44. Th' ast vail'd thy self with clouds, which will not let
    Our prayers pass thorough to discharge our debt.
  45. And as th' off-scouring thou, O Lord, hast made us 45
    Amongst those factious people that betray'd us.
  46. Our greedy enemies have op'ned wide
    Their mouths against us, and our pains deride.
  47. Fear, like a snare, incloses us about,
    And desolation will not keep without.
  48. Mine eyes run down like hasty floods of water,
    For the destruction of my peoples Daughter.
  49. Mine eyes are full, and tears do stream upon
    My cheeks without an intermission:
  50. [Page 48]
    Till Heav'n look'd down on my enriver'd face,
    And view'd my weeping from his holy place.
  51. Mine eyes affect my pining heart with pity,
    Because of all the Daughters of my City.
  52. And causless (like a frighted bird that flies)
    I still am chased by my enemies.
  53. They have destroy'd me in the dungeon, nay
    They cast a stone upon me where I lay.
  54. Th' imperious waves mounted above my head,
    And then I cry'd, Alas, alas, I'm dead.
  55. I call'd upon thy Name (O Lord;) my voyce
    Out of the dungeon made a dreadful noise.
  56. Th' ast heard my cries, Oh let thy ears not lie
    Hid from the breathing of my doleful cry.
  57. And in that day when I on thee did call,
    Thou cam'st, and bid me never fear at all.
  58. And when my Soul (O Lord) was fil'd with strife,
    Thou didst both plead my cause, and save my life,
  59. And thou hast plainly seen my wrong'd estate;
    Judg thou my cause, be thou my Advocate.
  60. For thou hast seen their vengeance, thou dost see
    Their deep imaginations against me.
  61. Thou their reproach hast heard, and apprehended
    What against me their busie thoughts intended.
  62. Thou know'st the very lips of them that rose
    Against me, and the malice of my foes.
  63. Behold their sitting and their rising, I
    Am all their musick, and their melody.
  64. Render to them a recompence, O God,
    And let them feel thy handywork, thy rod.
  65. [Page 49]
    O give them grief of heart; O let them burst
    With dregs of sorrow, let them be accurst.
  66. And let thy angry persecuting hand
    Destroy, confound, and sweep them from the Land.

1.5.2. Meditatio in Capitulum.

COme, come, my Soul, do not obnubilate
Thy self with smoky pleasures, nor create
More vain delights to please thy toyish minde:
Be serious now; let pleasures be confin'd.
Th' Almighty's angry, and his angry Breath
Expresses nothing but resolved Death.
His wrath is kindled, and his furious hand
Threatens a ruine to a sinful Land.
His bow is bent; behold he stands prepar'd,
Tis he, 'tis he, that will not be outdar'd:
And should his roving messenger impart
A secret sorrow to a private heart;
What then? Can all the balsams may be found
ecure so great, so terrible a wound?
No, no: O then let thy discerning eye
e truly watchful; for discovery fttimes
prevents a mischief: he's a stranger
o Heav'ns high Court, that thinks t'outbrave a danger
ehold (my soul) thou art inviron'd round
ith troops of adversaries; hark, they sound
[Page 50]
Their vilifying trumpets: hark, they mock,
And make thy sorrows but their laughing stock.
Dost thou not hear them, how they shout and cry,
As though they'd cleave th' unseparable sky?
O be not deaf; rouze up thy self, advance
Thy backward thoughts, sleep not in ignorance.
Provoke not Heav'n too much: O do n
Observe but how unpleasantly his arm
Draws up his bow, as one that's loath to harm.
Methinks I hear him say, O can ye tell!
Why will ye dye, ye house of Israel?
Methinks I hear his neverending breath
Breathe a disdain against a sinners death.
Methinks I hear his grieved spirit say,
Ye that are weary, come, O come away,
And lay your burthens on my back, and I
Will bear them all; I'l bear them willingly;
Why will ye dye? why will ye shut your eyes,
And thus run headlong after vanities?
Open your Adder ears, come and rejoyce
With me and mine; let my harmonious voyce
Invite you: Ah, what pleasures can accrue,
From shadows, to such substances as you?
Cast off the works of darkness, let true light
Expel those mists: O come when I invite.
What do ye mean? O tell me, tell me why
Ah now my Soul! let admiration prove
That Heav'n's compos'd of nothing but of Love:
[Page 51]
O Love beyond expression! My deserts
(Rather then Mercy) claim a thousand darts.
Call home thy wandring thoughts, and let them all
(Like servants) be obedient to thy Call.
Examine them; the very best will show,
Thy best deserts are but an overthrow.
Review thy actions; see if they can yeeld
One grain of comfort: see if they can shield
Thy threatned state: The more men strive to smother
Their sins, the more one sin begets another.
Then fly, dull soul, to Heav'ns high Court, & there
Melt, melt, into an everlasting tear.
Attone thy God, let not thy tongue deny
The truth to him, when he shall ask thee, why,
Why hast thou done this wickedness? Confess,
'Tis thou hast sinn'd, 'tis he that must depress
That headincreasing Hydra: Then shalt thou
ehold with what a voluntary brow
He'l entertain thee, and those joys impart
To thee, which wait upon a contrite heart.
He will have pity, though he sends a grief:
In multitudes of mercy lies relief.
The God of Love did never take delight
o mantle sinners with the clouds of night.
e's an indulgent Father, and his care
infinite, as all his mercies are.
Compose thy numerous thoughts, my Soul, and run:
O tell that Father, thou wilt be his Son.
[Page 52]

1.6. CHAP. IV.

1.6.1.

Contents.
1 Sion bewaileth her pitiful estate: 13 She confesseth her sins. 21 Edom is threatned. 22 Si+on is comforted.
  1. HOw is the gold grown dim! how is the fine
    The purest changed, that was wont to shine
    The stones that pav'd the Sanct'ary are thrown
    Into the streets, for beasts to trample on.
  2. The sons of Sion, which I could compare
    To finest gold, behold, see now they are
    Esteem'd as earthen pitchers, which the hands
    Of the industrious Potter still commands.
  3. The ill-shap'd monsters, which the Ocean owns
    As proper guests, nourish their little ones:
    But ah, my Daughters are grown pitiless,
    Like Ostriches within the wilderness.
  4. The wordless tongues of thirsty children cleave
    To their unliquid mouths; they never leave
    Their integrating cries: Poor hearts in vain
    They cry for food, but can no food obtain.
  5. And they that fed upon delicious sweets,
    Are desolate in the unquiet streets:
    [Page 53]
    They that were brought up in a scarlet dress,
    Embrace a dunghil as their happiness.
  6. For ah, my peoples Daughter suffers more
    For her great sins, then Sodom did before.
  7. Her beautified Nazarites could show
    A purer white then milk, whiter then snow;
    Their bodies then the rubies were more red,
    With shining Saphire were they polished.
  8. But now their changed visages excel
    The coal in blackness; they that knew them well,
    Now know them not: their flesh adheres & sticks:
    Unto their bones, they are like with'red sticks:
  9. Those that are ravisht of their fading breath
    By the encountring sword, enjoy a death
    Transcending theirs, whose lingring souls are pinde
    For want of food: Ah Famine's never kinde!
  10. The woful women boyl their young, they have
    Turn'd their own fruitful bellies to a grave.
  11. The Lord hath now accomplished his ire,
    Pour'd out his streaming anger, caus'd a fire
    To flame in Sion, which devour'd and layd
    Those buildings waste, which their own hands had made,
  12. The wisest Kings, nor the worlds copious Nations
    Did ever think to see these great invasions
    Of the unbridled foe, whose head-long courses
    Divides her gates with their divided forces.
  13. The Priests & Prophets crimeless blood have shed;
    Their sins drew down this mischief on their head.
  14. Like those they wander, whose benighted eyes
    Attract no light from the all-lightning skies:
    [Page 54]
    They have themselves polluted, so that none.
    Can touch their clothes; they are with blood o'reflown.
  15. The people cry, depart, what do ye mean?
    Depart, depart, touch not, it is unclean:
    The Heathen, as they fled together, cry'd,
    With us they shall not sojourn, nor abide.
  16. Gods anger hath divided them; he never
    Will love them more, but cast them off for ever:
    They dis-respected Priests, and they forgot
    The gravest Elders, whom they pitied not.
  17. But as for us, our helpbeguiled eyes
    Fail'd us as yet, no comfort would arise
    To us; we watch'd for Nations, but their pow'r
    Could not protect us from so great a showre.
  18. They hunt our steps, our oftextended feet
    Cannot divide their paces in the street:
    Our end is neer, and our days total sum
    Is now fulfil'd, for now our end is come.
  19. Our persecuters, our tormentors are
    Swifter then Eagles that enforce the ayr:
    Upon the mountains they pursu'd us; They,
    To trap our feet, in ambushcado lay.
  20. Those pits, which they for ruine have appointed,
    Inclos'd our Souls delight, the Lords Anointed;
    Under whose shadow we shall live, we said,
    Amongst the Heathens; thus are we dismay'd.
  21. O Edoms daughter, now stretch out thy voyce,
    Be glad; and for a time in Uz rejoyce:
    This cup shall pass along to thee, thou shalt
    Be drunk and naked, 'cause thou didst revolt.
  22. [Page 55]
    Thy plagues expire, O Sions daughters! he
    No more will lead thee to captivity:
    But Edom, O lament, lift up thine eyes,
    For Heav'n will visit thy iniquities.

1.6.2. Meditatio in Capitulum.

DIstracted Sion, having spent her days
In supine negligence, stands in a maze,
Not knowing what to do: her wonted joys
Yeeld torment, not contentment, seeming toys,
And childish trifles, which perplex her more,
Then thousand pleasures pleasur'd her before.
And now her alienated minde begins
To ruminate upon her former sins:
Her studious thoughts recount what precious time
She spent in folly; weighing every crime
In equal balance, posing them aright,
Findes them too heavy, and her self too light.
And like a frighted bird, her winged minde
Flies up and down, thinking some rest to finde
In sorrowswilderness: But ah, who can
Finde a lost Jewel in the Ocean!
Now we may see how her embraced folly
Is quite dissolved into melancholly.
And those lascivious hours, which she hath spent,
Seem like grim Marshalsgiving punishment
[Page 56]
To an offending wretch: As in a dream,
The fancy makes each object seem extream;
And why? b cause the judgment which should guide
Th' unruly fancy, sleeping's layd aside:
The senses once lock'd up, the fancymay
Not onely claim a priviledg to play,
But to delude, and represent those things
To meanest Subjects, which belong to Kings;
Which makes the flatter'd Senseseven dance,
And leap for joy, and striving to advance
Themselves, awake; and finding all's but vain,
Reason steps in, and makes them poor again.
Even thus was poor Jerus'lemlull'd asleep
With fancypleasing pleasure, which did keep
A rendezvouzwithin her, lest that doubt
Should interpose, and put the fancy out
Of frame; And by a more diviner art
Should breed a Meditationin her heart.
For when the wak'ned Senses once have gain'd
The upper hand, the fancyis restrain'd,
And curb'd by judgment; Reason too survives
Again, and claims her own Prerogatives:
The apprehensionwith her newgot pow'r
Begins to taste and apprehend how sowre
Her sweets are grown: Ah then she cries! I see
I'm turn'd to nothing, being turn'd from thee,
My great Redeemer, I have quite exil'd
Thy mercies from my bosom, and revil'd
Thy just commands, presuming oftentimes
To urge, with my reiterated crimes,
[Page 57]
Thy long-continued patience; and exprest
No grief at all from my obdurate brest.
My eyes were still laborious to discover
New vanities; and like a heedless lover,
Whose beauty-dazled eyes do onely view
The Superficies, seeking not how true
The heart remaineth, but can fondly be
Content with beauties bare Epitomie.
And thus my rash advent'ring Soul went on,
(Pleasures admit no intermission
To them, whose hearts are envious to obtain
A present pleasure, but a future pain:)
And ah, how quickly's yeelding flesh and blood
Surpriz'd and conquer'd by a seeming good!
A Goodthat's good for nothing but t'invite
Fond Soulsto ruine, and o'revail the light
Of real Truth: and with enforc'd delusions
Makes them take pleasure in their own confusions.
Since then, my Soul, no pleasures can be found
In this base Center; let thy thoughts rebound
From this fastidious Orb; learn to advance
Thy self above the frowns, the reach of chance:
And let th' extent of thy ambition be
Onely to purchase an Eternitie
Of happiness, which shall perpetuate,
And make thee glorious in a glorious state.
Divorce thy self from thy unsum'dup faults,
Protract no ime, but clarifie thy thoughts.
Command thy self, and thou shalt be reputed
A most deserving Victor: not confuted
[Page 58]
By any, though their noble acts may claim
A true inheritance to a lasting Fame.
For he that gives himself an overthrow,
Conquers a Kingdom, and subdues a foe.
Then arm thy self, my Soul,and strive t'out-dare
Satansattempts; be studious to prepare
Thy self, and let thy adversarysee
When he is strongest, th' art as strong as he.
Let not his vain delusions interpose
'Twixt thee and Heav'n: O do not thou expose
Thy self to wilful danger, but endevor
T'accost his actions; but beleeve him never.
Thou seest how poor Jerusalembewails
Her sad disasters; how she stoops, and fails
Beneath the burthen of her grief, and cries,
O boundless grief! O vainest vanities!
O dream thou not of transitory things,
Which are unconstant, having secret wings
To fly away; and flying will confound
Thy better parts, and give thy Soul a wound.
Be wary then, and let thy thought concur
With Heav'ns commands, and so will he tranfer
His Kingdom to thee, full of lasting treasure,
Where nothing's greater then the smallest pleasure.
[Page 59]

1.7. CHAP. V.

1.7.1.

  1. REmember, Lord, what's come upon us; see,
    Ponder the greatness of our infamy.
  2. Strangers inherit that which is our due,
    Our habitation's turn'd to aliens too.
  3. For we are Orphans, and all fatherless,
    Our Mothers are as Widows in distress.
  4. We buy our water, (O unhappy fate!)
    And purchase fuel at too dear a rate.
  5. Our necks are persecuted and unblest,
    And still we labor, but obtain no rest.
  6. Unto the Egyptians we our hand have spread,
    Desiring to be satisfied with bread.
  7. Our buried fathers sin'd in former times,
    And we have born the burthen of their crimes
  8. Servants have rul'd us, and there's none that will
    Deliver us, but let them rule us still.
  9. With peril of our lives we have obtain'd
    Our bread, because the sword was unrestrain'd.
  10. Our skins are black, like to an oven, and dry,
    Because the Famine caus'd a Tyranny.
  11. Sion and Judahs daughter have been led
    Away, and violently ravished.
  12. Princes are hang'd up by the hands; the faces
    Of Elders have no honor but disgraces.
  13. [Page 60]
    They made the young men grinde; the children blood
    Fainted beneath the burthen of their wood.
  14. The Elders at their gates did not abide,
    The young mens musick too is layd aside.
  15. The joy is ceas'd which was our hearts relief,
    Our active dancing's turn'd to passive grief.
  16. The crown is fallen from our heads; and wo,
    Wo be to us that have offended so.
  17. Our hearts are faint, and our suffused eyes
    Are dim, because of these calamities.
  18. Because that Sions mountain's desolate,
    The foxes walk thereon to recreate
  19. Themselves: But thou, O Lord, shalt sit on high
    Upon thy Throne, unto Eternity.
  20. Wherefore dost thou forsake us, and demure
    Thy self so long from us, that seem secure:
  21. Turn thou, and we are turn'd; Lord we implore
    Renew our days, as thou hast done before.
  22. But thou hast quite rejected us, and thou
    Beholdst thy servants with an angry brow.

1.7.2. Meditatio in Capitulum.

COmplaining, what is that? will that relieve
Impris'ned souls, or teach the~ how to grieve
Tell me, sad Soul, can greater wantsconverse
With fleshand blood? nay, what more lasting curse
Can be entail'd on man, then to complain
To such an ear as will not once retain
[Page 61]
The least expression of a grief, but cry,
Let woe attend him to Eternity?
O dismal sentence! and if this be all,
'Twould grieve a man that e're he griev'd at all,
To be thus harshly answer'd, and excluded
From hopes of mercy; Be not thus deluded
Despairing Soul.
Jerusalem, 'tis true, she did complain;
And was that all? O no, her tongue did chain
A prayer to her Petition, and her eyes
Were dayly trickling for her miseries.
Where is that man, that if he chance to be
Deprived of his goods by robberie,
Will sit complaining by himself, and try
No lawful means for a recovery
Of what he lost? should we not deem him mad,
To lose that good, which might be easily had,
If sought? This Proverbcalls it to my minde,
He that will spare to seek, must spare to finde.
Even so, if Satan, whose depriving pow'r
Shall take a watch'd advantage, and devour
The Mannaof our Souls, shall we then say,
'Tis gone, 'tis gone, Satanhas stoln't away?
And ah, can these, these naked wordsrecal
A lost estate? O no, 'twill but enthral
Our happinessthe more, and make our grief
The more extream, admitting no relief.
My Soul, if Satane're shall make attempt
Upon thy weakness, lab'ring to exempt
[Page 62]
And win thee from thy self; go and make known
Thy cause to Heav'ns JudgAdvocate: bemoan
Thy self with tears; complain, confess, and pray:
God loves confession, but abhors delay.
Run, run unto him, that thou mayst prevent
The wrathand censureof his Parliament.
Go, go, for there thou shalt be sure to finde
Abundance link'd together in one minde.
There is no faction, no divisionsthere,
But all are setled in one hemisphere
Of true Opinion: There is none t'expect
A bribe; or else without a bribeneglect
To agitate thy business, or exact
Upon thy guiltless conscience, or enact
Their several humors: There is none to bring
Thy Soulin danger, 'cause th' ast lov'd thy King,
Thy heav'nly King, by whom thou shalt possess
A true and no excised happiness.
O endless joy! a joy that far transcends
The deepest thoughts; a joy that never ends.
Be ravish'd, 0 my Soul! and meditate
Upon Jerusalem: Let her sad state
Be as a caveatto thee; let her fall
Teach thee to stand: let her detested gall
Prove honey to thee; so mayst thou derive
Thy welfarefrom her sorrows, and survive
In everlasting bliss: Peacebeyond measure
Shall crown thee with vicissitude of Pleasure.
Play well thy game, and so will Heav'n extend
His liberal grace, and bless thee in the End.

1.8.

[Page 63]

1.8.1. DIVINE MEDITATIONS.

MEditation we may fitly call
The Souls Arithmetitian, summing all
Our sins together; Nay, and every day
Cyphers them up, and teaches us to pray;
Then let us meditate, and strive to do
What our Arithmetitian leads us too.
He that will true examples learn to give,
First let him learn to dye, and then to live:
Prefer the surest first; for you and I
Uncertain are to live, but sure to dye.

MEDITAT. I.

PElion is fallen upon Ossa's back,
The more I cry for help, the more I lack.
[Page 64]
There's none will look upon me, how I lie
In the Charybdis of perplexity.
Escaping Scylla, O I thought I'd been
Past danger, but Charybdis was not seen.

MEDITAT. 2.

I'm now benighted, and obscur'd from light,
My day of pleasure's turn'd into a night
Of clouded sorrow; Grief comes sailing on,
Steer'd by the hand of my Rebellion.
Heav'n stop his passage, may he never rest
Within the harbor of my tender brest.

MEDITAT. 3.

What have I done? or what have I deserv'd,
That I am thus imprison'd, and reserv'd
For death and sad destruction? Nay, but why,
Why do I ask, what I have done? To dye,
To dye, 'tis too too little, could a worse,
A worse succeed, I have deserv'd the curse.

MEDITAT. 4.

I have displeased Heav'n, where shall I fly
To hide my self from his offended eye?
If rocks, or caves, could hide me from my sin,
There, there I'd go, and hide my self within
[Page 65]
The bowels of the Earth, till Heav'n should say,
The night of sin is gone, and now 'tis day.

MEDITAT. 5.

What if I storm'd Heav'ns Paradise with prayers,
nd so besieg'd it with an host of tears?
What if I undermin'd and layd a train
O blow it up with sighs? 'twere but in vain:
O storm, besiege, all is but labour spent,
Except I could, as David did, Repent.

MEDITAT. 6.

Repent: O what a sound that word imports!
O how it penetrates! How many sorts
Of Ecchoes answer it! Repent of all;
He that leaves one, repents of none at all.
He that will learn how to repent, and when,
First let him strive to be a David, then.

MEDITAT. 7.

And art thou still disquieted, my Soul?
Just thou in God; in God, that doth controul
Both Heav'n and Earth: 'tis he that must and shal
Be fear'd and honor'd, yea and lov'd withall.
This he can send Jobs torments, and his wo;
'Tis we must pray to have his patience too.
[Page 66]

MEDITAT. 8.

Fain would I come before myangry God,
But that my sinful years still fear the Rod
Of his Correction, yet appear I must;
Sure, sure he'smerciful, as well as just:
Cheer up dejected Soul, and thou shalt see
His mercy's greater then thy sins can be.

MEDITAT. 9.

Can Heav'n forget himself, or can he say
That thing o're night, he cannot do next day?
Can friends forget their children, or deny
Their dearest blood? or can a mountain fly?
Heav'n says, he'l be a Father till the end:
Then he's a fool that doubts so true a friend.

MEDITAT. 10.

A friend indeed, but how can I expect
To purchase friendship by my own neglect?
For ah, how often hath Heav'n pleas'd to say,
Ye that are heavy loaden, come away,
And I will give you ease? Alas! but I
Thought sin no burthen, neither thought to dye
[Page 67]

MEDITAT. 11.

But now I see the frailty of mymind;
I thought I was imprison'd, when confin'd
Only one hour to goodness; nay, that hour
I thought a year, until I had the power
To free my self; when freed, I had forgot
What goodness was, as though I'd heard it not.

MEDITAT. 12.

And should I strive to reckon up my sins,
How can he make an end, that still begins?
The sands upon theSeas, nay, and the hair
Upon my head, are Cyphers in compare
Of my excessive sins, yet Heav'n can call
Me, as he did the spend-thrift Prodigal.

MEDITAT. 13.

I know my sins are great, and do increase
Within my Sion, and disturb my Peace:
O what am I (dear Heav'n?) I am thy creature,
My sins are great, but yet thy mercy's greater.
Pardon (blest Heav'n,) forgive what I have done;
Thou art my Father, own me as thy Son.
[Page 68]

MEDITAT. 14.

It is a happiness to scorn the mirth
Of this confused transitory Earth:
And he who is ambitious to create
A happiness, must make the world his hate:
Then if selflove appear, we know for what;
We love our selves in truly hating that.

MEDITAT. 15.

Life is the lifes preparative, and Death
The deprivation of unconstant breath.
A well directed life shall always find
Society in Death; a glorious mind
hall have a glorious, a celestial friend
To guard his glory to a glorious end.

MEDITAT. 16.

But can a mind, enammel'd with the glory
Of Heav'n, have end? or else is Death a story?
Death is the end of Life, and yet we see
Life is deriv'd from Deaths soveraigntie.
'Tis quickly known, the Death of Sin must give
The para'ned Soul a priviledg to live.
[Page 69]

MEDITAT. 17.

Heav'n is the seat of Happiness, and Hell
The place of fury, where the Furies dwell.
Then mount my Soul upon the spreading wings
Of lofty Faith; fly towards the King of Kings:
Whilest here thou shalt inhabit, learn to know,
That Heav'n's too high for them that fly too low.

MEDITAT. 18.

I am but sordid earth, that's dayly plow'd
With grief and care; and sorrows hourly croud
Into my weak dominions, and remain
Like greedy Tenants, thirsting after gain.
My eyes are always open to behold
New woes, for I am form'd in sorrows mould.

MEDITAT. 19.

I am a reeling Pinnace, and I sail
From Port to Port; sometimes a humble gale
Salutes my spreading sails, and by and by
The waves, contemning my prosperity,
Spit in my face, being hurried by their tydes,
They seem to crawl into my sweating sides.
[Page 70]

MEDITAT. 20.

I am a clouded day, I promise rain:
Sometimes I'm stormy, and then clear again;
Sometimes the Sun of Pence begins t'appear,
But cannot shine in sorrows Hemisphere:
Saddest of thoughts; needs must he be distrest
That finds unconstant weather in his brest.

MEDITAT. 21.

I am a vapor, having not the power
T'endure the fervor of one shining hour:
Vapors cannot withstand a mid-days heat;
Afflictions must be hot, where sins are great:
'Tis not unlike, a misty morning may
Ofttimes prove usher to a glorious day.

MEDITAT. 22.

I am a trembling reed, and every day
The wind and I are subject to a fray:
I'm bruis'd, and shall be broken, if some hand
Sustain me not, I shall forget to stand
But stay my Soul, and hear Jehovah speak,
I vow, the bruised reed I will not break.
[Page 71]

MEDITAT. 23.

I am but earth, corrupted with my deeds,
Which are but like unprofitable weeds;
My soil is rank and barren, and it bears
Nograin at all, no not so much as tears:
Wouldst thou increase (my Soul,) I'le teach thee how,
Sow but the seeds of Faith, God speeds the plow.

MEDITAT. 24.

Despair not, when affliction plows the ground,
Doubt not increases, if the seed be found:
Heav'n loves a fruitful harvest, and his hand
Is always active to manure the Land;
He takes the chiefest care, the greatest pains,
He crowns the work, 'tis we that reap the gains.

MEDITAT. 25.

Man's like a house, whose outward beauty may
Yield pleasure to the eye; If we survey
The inward rooms, there we may find enough
Of untrim'd natures sluttish houshold-stuff.
Wouldst thou be fair within (O man,) and neat,
Turn but thy inside out, thou'lt be compleat.
[Page 72]

MEDITAT. 26.

Do greedy Ravens hunger? do they cry
For food? and are they fed? and must not I?
I beg, I crave, and yet am hungry still;
I pine, I starve, and Ravens have their fill.
I know (great God) I have offended thee,
Because thou seed'st the Ravens, and not me.

MEDITAT. 27.

DoLillies flourish? do they still remain
Neatly adorn'd? and yet they take no pain;
They neither spin nor card, they take no care,
And yet they're cloth'd, and I, poor I, go bare.
I know (great God) I have offended thee,
Because thou cloth'st the Lillies, and not me.

MEDITAT. 28.

Why am I thus tormented with the Rod
Of my afflictions? Hath my angryGod
Forgot his creature? Shall I never have
A little ease, but be affliction's slave?
Forbear, my grumbling Soul, cheer up, and be
Mindful of him, and he'l remember thee.
[Page 73]

MEDITAT. 29.

And why does Heav'n afflict me, but because
He'l make me know my self, and learn his Laws.
Then why am I disquieted? If he
Intends my good, shall I prove enemie
Unto my self? MySoul, take care, be still,
Unless he turns that good into an ill.

MEDITAT. 30.

Then learn, my soul, when Heav'n afflicts, to know
'Tis for thy sins he does it, and to show
The greatness of his mercy, and to make
Thee love affliction for the Afflictors sake.
Be wise and provident, and thou shalt see,
'Twas good for David, 'twill be good for thee.

MEDITAT. 31.

If thou wilt learn, my Soul, how to endure,
With patience, thy afflictions, be thou sure,
That when the hand of angry Heav'n shall smite,
Thou dost not grumble like the Israelite.
Strive thou for patience, heav'n wil teach thee how
To bear affliction with a cheerful brow.
[Page 74]

MEDITAT. 32.

What though the waves of thy afflictions rise,
And rage abundantly? lift up thy eyes,
And cry to Heav'n, let patience calm thy mind,
And know that purest gold must be refin'd,
And when affliction brings thee to the brink
Of death, remember Peter did not sink.

MEDITAT. 33.

When I consider how I have offended
My Souls dread Soveraign, and vilipended
His gracious promises, I much admire
He casts me not into eternal fire:
But he in mercy makes me kiss his Rod,
Tells me, I am a creature, he a God.

MEDITAT. 34.

Consider well, my Soul, why hast thou breath,
Since that the wages of thy Sins are death?
Thou hast deserv'd ten thousand times to dye,
But that thy GOD, whose mercy doth deny
A Sinners death, reprieves thee for a time,
To make thee know the greatness of thy crime.
[Page 75]

MEDITAT. 35.

O meditate, my Soul, what Heav'n hath done
For thee, that art his most rebellious Son;
He hath prolong'd thy days, and striv'd to win
And draw thee from the lothsomness of sin.
Admired patience! O indulgent care!
Mercy of Mercies! how can Heav'n forbear!

MEDITAT. 36.

Have I offended? and shall I despair?
Oh no, I dare not: Ah my Soul, forbear
To harbor such a wickedness; but know,
When thy sins ebb, Gods mercies overflow:
His mercy is an Ocean, and thy prayer
Is th' only wind can raise a tempest there.

MEDITAT. 37.

Then pray my Soul, and let thy prayers reveal
Thy bosom sins; O think not to conceal
A crime from him, that is theGod of Truth,
And knows the sins of thy offending youth:
Ah know my Soul, the more thou striv'st to smother
Thy sins, the more one sin begets another.
[Page 76]

MEDITAT. 38.

Can Sin, the Souls consuming Viper, lie,
And lurk secure, from Heav'ns all seeing eye?
O no, 'tis vain to think so; though that we
Are muffl'd up with sin, yet Heav'n can see.
O then confess my Soul, and thou shalt tread,
And trample on the Vipers poys'ny head.

MEDITAT. 39.

But can Confession in it self obtain
An absolute forgiveness? Can we gain
Heav'n by a sigh? O no, my Soul express
A perfect sorrow, when thou dost confess,
Then let resolved Constancy endure,
And thou, my Soul, shalt truly rest secure.

MEDITAT. 40.

Dost thou, my Soul, desire to be partaker
Of those celestial joys, wherewith thy Maker
Crowns those endeavoring Souls, which study still
To be obedient to his sacred Will?
Examine well the Scriptures, they will show
The ready way; then practise how to go.
[Page 77]

MEDITAT. 41.

Let thy innocuous Meditations be
Serious and fervent, let integritie
Still wait upon them, which will still defend
And guard thy actions to a prosperous end:
Then shall thy labors have a peaceful rest;
Then dayly labor to be dayly blest.

MEDITAT. 42.

But have a care (my Soul) leftmalice chance
To interpose it self, and so advance
Above thy patience, and disturb that peace
Which might have blest thee with a large increase.
O have a care this be no fault of thine!
Remember who hath said, Vengeance is mine.

MEDITAT. 43.

Dost thou desire, my Soul, that Heav'n should say,
Thy pardon's seal'd, and I will blot away
Thy numerous sins; nay, and I will no more
Remember them, as I have done before?
Then learn, my Soul, to know, whilest thou dost live,
He that will be forgiven, must forgive.
[Page 78]

MEDITAT. 44.

If thou wouldst go to Heav'n, my Soul, go on,
(Not as the sluggard of wise Solomon,)
Be not so timerous as he, to say,
There is a Lion lurking in the way:
Go on with courage, let the way delight thee,
Then shall the Lion grumble, and not bite thee.

MEDITAT. 45.

The wise man saith, that sluggards shall be cloth'd
With rags, and all his actions shall be loth'd;
And he that's willing to obtain a prize,
Must be laborious, and have watchful eyes;
(My drouzy Soul) make Heav'n thy prize, then strain
T'outrun thy sins, and so thou shalt obtain.

MEDITAT. 46.

When on the ladder Jacob did discry
The Angels in his dream, he saw them fly
Upwards and downwards, which was to express
How much they scorn'd and hated Idleness:
Then learn, my Soul, how to ascend apace
From sin, to the perfection of grace.
[Page 79]

MEDITAT. 47.

What was the reason Peter wept? Nay, why
Did he go out and weep so bitterly?
Could he not weep within? Did he not dare
Before the wicked to disburse a tear?
By this example Peter makes it known,
Who truly grieves, desires to grieve alone.

MEDITAT. 48.

Hast thou my Soul, with persecuting Paul,
Envy'd the Church? Hast thou conspir'd her fall?
Why then my Soul wilt thou despair? 'Tis true,
The crime is great, and GOD is gracious too.
A light may shine from Heav'n, and thou shalt be,
With Paul, converted from thy Tyrannie.

MEDITAT. 49.

Hast thou, with thricedenying Peter, cry'd,
I know him not, but stubbornly deny'd
The Lord of Life? what then? the Cock may crow,
God may look back upon thee, and bestow
His liberal blessings: Then my Soul deny
Thy sins, with Peter,and weep bitterly.
[Page 80]

MEDITAT. 50.

But was it not, my Soul, a sad disaster,
That Peter should so soon deny his Master,
For whose dear sake led lose his life? O what
A sudden change is this, I know him not!
Nay more, as if he thought this would not do,
He binds it with an oath, forswears him too.

MEDITAT. 51.

What was the reason that the Lions, when
They entertainedDaniel in their Den,
Did ratherfear, then hunger? Nay, how can
Destroying Lions fawn upon a man?
My Soul, there was a Lamb that tam'd the Lion
And made the Den prove Danielssafest Sion.

MEDITAT. 52.

Advise my Soul, and how could Daniel live,
Impris'ned in the Den, and none to give
Him dayly food? How could he rest at quiet,
Without th' enjoyment of some slender diet?
When Heav'n commands his Angels, they shal fe
A Soul; (my Soul) that Soul can never nee
[Page 81]

MEDITAT. 53.

'Twas Faith that guarded Daniel from the paws
Of dauntless Lions, whose imperious jaws
Were ty'd by Heav'ns appointment, so that they
Forgot their Tyranny, and learn'd to play.
(My Soul) with Daniel, truly think upon
Thy God, and Faith shall be thy Champion.

MEDITAT. 54.

Did great Goliah fall? Could he not stand,
That was so strong, against so weak a hand?
Could not his armour, nor his storming power
Maintain so mean a Combate half an hour?
Here, here (my Soul) observe, and thou shalt find
An armed body, but a naked mind.

MEDITAT. 55.

But how did stripling David dare to show
His childish face before so great a foe?
He had no armour on, nor sword to shield
His body, yet he fought, and won the field.
Here, here (my Soul) observe, and thou shalt fin
A naked body, but an armed mind.
[Page 82]

MEDITAT. 56.

Be sure (my Soul) when e're thou shalt begin
To war with the Goliah of thysin,
TakeDavids armour, and thou shalt or'ethrow
Thy sin with a most advantagious blow.
not too much, but with bold courage fight;
The pebble-stones of Faith fly always right.

MEDITAT. 57.

Faith is the arm of safety, which defends
TheSoul from all approaching harm, and lends
A sword to fight withSatan, who may venter
To make a thrust or two, but cannot enter.
Gain thou this arm of Faith (my Soul,) and then
Thou mayst out-dare a Lion in his Den.

MEDITAT. 58.

Learn how to prize thy Faith (my Soul,) and know
She is thy only safety here below:
She is a trusty buckler to protect thee
From showres of evil, and to good direct thee.
Then rouze my Soul, and be not quite cast down,
Repentance brings in Faith, and Faith a Crown.
[Page 83]

MEDITAT. 59.

A Crown, that's only fitting to adorn
A Princes brow; and Subjects that are born
To an inferior fortune, must content
Themselves with that, which fortune freely lent.
But ah my Soul! be wise, and understand,
A heavenly Crown's not made by humane hand.

MEDITAT. 60.

A glorious Crown of Glory shall attend
Attentive hearts;my Soul, I recommend
This Crown to thee: consider but the price
It cost, and then remember Paradise:
Remember whose dear blood did trickle down,
Like tedious showrs, to purchase thee this Crown.

MEDITAT. 61.

O boundless Love! would such a Lamb as he
Dye for such wolf-like sycophants as we?
His willing Soul did even joy t'express
This introduction to our happiness.
His blood gush'd out to wash us clean within:
He shed it for our sins, and yet we sin.
[Page 84]

MEDITAT. 62.

Rouze up my Soul, and let thy Eagle-eyes
Behold that Sun in whom thy safety lies:
well upon him and thou shalt discover
ALamb-like Patience, and a constant Lover.
Admire with how much Dove-like innocence
He suffer'd death for us that gave th'offence.

MEDITAT. 63.

Art thou not ravish'd yet, my Soul? then hear,
And I will recommend unto thy ear
The willing Passion of that Lamb, which cry'd
Eloi, Eloi, Eloi, and so dy'd:
And by the vertue of his dying deed,
Our blood was stop'd, when he began to bleed.

MEDITAT. 64.

Man, the unhappy offspring of that man
Of Sin, at whose beginning we began
To fall from our first principles, and stray
From good to bad, digressing from the way
Of our assur'd Salvation, and exchange
A world of pleasure for a world of pains;
And by that Heavenforbidden taste, reverst
The stroke ofmercy, made us all accurst,
[Page 85]
And hourly subject to his wrath, whose power
Created us, and made us little lower
Then Heav'nbred
Angels; till the sad inventions
Of Satans malice quickned theintentions
Of greedy Eve, whose hand soon recommended
That fruit, which by the Serpent was extended,
To her beguiled husband, whose neglect
Of Heav'ns Commands purchas'd a dull aspect
From his revengeful brow, which shin'd more bright
Then glorious Cynthia in her greatest light.
But ah, the cloud of Adams sin had made
A great eclipse: Poor Adam is betray'd
By his own folly, and condemn'd to crawl
Upon his belly, and gulp up thegall
Of his transgressions; Having thus offended,
He's thrown from Paradise, and vili-pended
By Heav'n: But all this while the Serpent sits
Ravish'd with laughter, tut'ring still his wits
To further mischief; having found success
In his first enterprize, doubts nothing less
Then what he hopes for; having thus o'rethrown
The first man Adam, thinks that all's his own:
But that our God, whose all-commanding power
Can mortifie, and quicken in one hour,
Was fill'd withpity, pitiedman whose state
He saw was miserably desperate;
Begun to view him with a gracious eye,
And invocates his sacred Trinity:
And thus proceeds.—
[Page 86]
—Have I made man? have I
Made wretched man, man made to glorifie
My name, and given to his thriftless hand
Preheminency both by Sea and Land?
And shall I not be honor'd? Am I not
A mindful God? And shall I be forgot
By slothful man? Have I not gave him light
In spight of darkness, and shall he requite
My favours thus? Nay more, have I not fram'd
And stamp'd him with my Image, and proclaim'd
A lasting greatness to him? And shall they
Be thus obdurate now, that were but clay
Before I gave them breath? and shall that breath
Contemn, defie, and scorn me to the death?
Is this the honor which I did expect
From them? Is this the duty? this th' effect
Of all my labors? Speak my dearest Son,
What shall we do with man that hath undone
His wretched self? My fury burns to be
Reveng'd on man for his iniquitie.
Break forth my restless fury, and devour
That loathed thing call'd man, give him no power
To call me Father; whil'st abused I
Will stop myears, and scorn to hear him cry:
Begone, enact my pleasure.
The Son reply'd; Oh stop! Oh stay, my dear,
My dearest Father! Let thy sacred ear
Stand open but one minute, that poor man
May strive to plead, and utter what he can
[Page 87]
For his own self. Alas mySon, I know
The more he strives to speak, the more he'l show
His guilt; And ah! what answer can he make
To angry I, that am resolv'd to take
Speedyrevenge? The more he strives to clear
Himself, the more he'l make his guilt appear.
Begone my fury, run till thou art spent;
Away, away, and give my passion vent,
Vent it on man. My angryFather, stay
A little longer, hear what I will say
In mans behalf: Oh, is not man thy creature?
Hissins are not so great, but thou art greater
In mercy: Oh be merciful, and let
(If nothing will) my blood discharge the debt:
I'le freely give it, may this Blood of mine
Extinguish quite those angry flames of thine.
Oh be appeas'd, and give me leave to strive
Against the power of Satan, and deprive
Him of his mandeluding power: I'le charm
His rav'ning malice, and withhold his arm
From hurting man: Nay, and I'le undergo
As many sorrows, as the world can show,
For man thy Image: Say the word, and I
Will go, nay run, for joy, that I must dye
For mans Redemption. DearestSon, then go,
Redeem relapsedman, that he may owe
An endless debt. But say, my Son, should he,
For whom thou dy'st, revile, dishonor thee,
And trample in thy precious blood, and make
That blood prove poyson to him, that should take
[Page 88]
The venom of his sins away? I'le strive,
The Holy Ghost reply'd, to make man thrive,
And grow in grace; I'le teach him to express
No feigned, but a real thankfulness.
O Soul-transporting Joy! O truest Love
Without a period! O innoxious Dove!
Could'st thou, thou Lamb of God, be thus content
To step from Heav'n, and take that punishment
Upon thy patient self, which appertain'd
To Heaven provoking man, man that was stain'd
And blur'd with sin, whose spots could never be
Wash'd out (blest Lamb) by any but by thee?
Had'st thou not interpos'd, our Souls had bin
Imbowel'd in the Ocean of our Sin:
And hadst thou not sustain'd us, we had fell,
And swelter'd in the restless flames of Hell.
Hadst thou not look'd upon our sad condition,
And pitied us, to see what expedition
We made to our own ruines, we had lost
The hopes of our Salvation, which cost
An unknown price: 'Twas not a swelling flood
Of heap'd up gold redeem'd us, but thy blood,
Thy precious blood, which flow'd like hasty tides
In great abundance, from thy wounded sides.
Start from the bed of Sin (my Soul,) and run
To view the splendor of this glorious Sun:
See how he wrastles with the gloomy clouds
Of our transgressions; See how he unshrouds
Himself: On see what pains he undergoes,
To prove himself our friend, that were his foes.
[Page 89]
Methinks I hear a throng of people cry,
Let Barabbas be freed, let's crucifie
This Jewish King; let's lead him to his death,
'Tis pity he should draw a minutes breath.
Methinks I see how his weak hands are bound
With twisted cords: Methinks I see him crown'd
with sharpned thorns: Methinks I see them, how
They worship him with a dissembled bow.
Methinks I see the gazing people run
To see the glorious setting of this Sun.
Methinks I see his gentle feet divide
Their measur'd paces, to be crucify'd.
Methinks I see how his delightful face
Seems to receive an honor by disgrace.
Methinks I see how his Heav'n-fixed eyes
Do overlook his raging enemies.
Methinks I see his spear-inviting brest
Willingly ready to receive the rest
Of their intended malice; How his palms
(Like one that gives, and not receives an alms)
Are spread abroad, which truly verifies
With what a chearful willingness he dyes.
Methinks I see how his connexed feet
Salute the Cross, as if they joy'd to meet
With so, so fast a friend. Methinks I see
With what a Heav'n-infus'd reluctancie
He entertains their blows, as if he found
A lively comfort in each deadly wound.
Methinks I see his bubbling veins, how they
Swell up a little, and then shrink away,
[Page 90]
And hide themselves, as if they had exprest
(For the departure of so warm a guest)
A secret grief; till conquering death exil'd
Life from the body of that Lamb, that Child,
That Son of God, in whom true joys reside;
Who lives by dying, and by living dy'd.

1.8.2. Quis miserior quàm qui suam nescit miseriam?

DO I not dayly see that nothing can
Be so unstable as the state of man?
Do I not see how fortune can correct
Misfortune; and as suddenly neglect
Poor helpless man? Sometimes his thoughts are crown'd
With golden joys, and sometimes kiss the ground:
Somtimes he's fil'd with laughter, somtims weeps;
Sometimes he walks in state, and somtimes creeps.
A morning joy proves sometimes grief at night,
For fortunes dyal goes not always right.
'Tis vain, 'tis vain; and ah that I could weep
My self into a deluge, and so steep
My cheeks in tears: Oh that I could imbark
My naked Soul, and swim like Noah's Ark
In that grand Ocean, which my flowing eyes
Have made, and overlook my miseries!
[Page 91]
Distemp'red thoughts, why do you thus torment
My yeelding Soul? why does my Soul relent?
Why am I thus afflicted? why doth sorrow
Take an advantage of my Soul, and borrow
Quotidian plagues, and study how to make
My heart its Theater? How shall I shake
These coupling fetters from my captiv'd heart?
How shall I bid adue to grief, and part?
Where shall I run, and labor to unsnare
My breasts inhabitant? Oh how, or where
Shall I retire my self! In what sad place
Shall I deplore my miserable case?
Could I but find a place where I might dwell,
And only see the Sun, I'd bid farewel
To all false pleasures.
For now my Soul still hovers to and fro
From places to place: sometimes it flies too low;
Sometimes, with more aspiring wings, it flies,
And envies at impossibilities:
Then back again, and with a seeming mirth
Surveys the center of this flattering Earth.
And thus my Soul, being left in this sad being,
Agrees in nothing else but disagreeing:
My ways are pav'd with thorns; I take my diet
From sorrows table, furnish'd with disquiet:
I am the principle of grief; my eyes,
Like windows, open to all miseries:
My head's a fountain, and from thence doth flow
The headlong rivers of unbridled woe.
[Page 92]
My sighs, like sudden storms, disturb my rest,
As if I had a Boreas in my brest.
Needs must I be molested in my dreams,
My heart's the receptacle of all streams:
Then blame me not, if sorrow makes me cry;
Sum all misfortune up, and that am I.
But stay my thoughts; post not away too fast:
Extreams are dangerous, and cannot last.
A sudden thought hath made me to confess,
I may be happy in unhappiness.
And what's a thought? 'tis but a sudden puff;
Yet many may confound, when one's enough.
Come let's repose, and make a little stay,
Our Sun's sufficient to adorn a day.
Why should I wander in the darksom shades
Of my own errors, whilest a grief invades
My naked senses? 'Tis in vain to strive
Against the power of God, who can contrive
What pleases him: Why shall I then repine
At what he sends? Can wretched I confine
His will to mine? Oh no; He suffers well,
Whose suffrings tell him there's no other Hell
But in this world: Who would not then endure
Terrestrial torment, that he may procure
Celestial pleasures? Sorrow brings no loss
To him whose patience can sustain a cross.
Hereafter I will labor to prevent
A little Sorrow by a great Content.
[Page 93]

1.8.3. Surgit post nubila Phoebus.

WHen gloomy clouds surround the lofty skie
It is an argument a storm is nigh:
But when the Sun's eclipsed from our sight,
We must not judg an everlasting night
Will then ensue: 'Tis danger to distrust
A God that is so merciful, so just.
The greatest sin that Satan can declare
Against a guilty Soul, is sad despair.
What though the clouds of Earth shall interpose
Betwixt a Soul and Heaven? the wind blows
Not always in one place; one happy hour
May breed a calm, and qualifie a showre.
Some greedy Lawyers, when their Clyents stoek
Is almost spent, rewards him with a mock:
The Counsellor of Heav'n gives more content
To a poor sinner, when his breath is spent:
Accepts the will, although his tongue be mute;
He seldom keeps him seven years in a suite:
He's free in mercy, and he takes delight
To end a suite, when sorrow makes it right:
God is not like to them that take a pride
In others griefs: when tears begin to slide,
His mercy falls; he cannot brook delay,
But meets a sinners language half the way.
His ears are always open to let in
A sinners prayers, when he lets out his sin.
[Page 94]
What thogh I have transgrest, what tho my crime
Appear like mountains? mountains oftentimes
Sink lower; nay, and God can pardon all
As well as one: for be they great or small,
They all are sins: shrubs grow as well as trees;
Gods mercy will admit of no degrees.
He that distrusts his God shall always find
A clouded conscience, and a stormy mind.
Seven days had run, before God had attyr'd
The World with order, yet he was not tyr'd:
And shall we then expect to climb so high
As Heav'n, in half an hour, or else deny
So blest a labour? No, perhaps to day
We keep the road, to morrow lose the way.

1.8.4. Contenta vita est summa foelicitas.

WHat is this world? A lookingglass, wherein
We see the body, nay the face of Sin.
What's Wealth? what's Honor! Transitory toys.
What's Mirth? what's Pleasure? Melancholy joys.
Honor is Envy's object; Riches, they
Are but the subjects of a frowning day.
Beauty's a slave to Time, and fond delight
Teaches the morning how to fool the night.
[Page 95]
Were I a Midus, could my towers of wealth
Protect my person, or preserve my health?
Were I a Cesar, could wy honors save
My crazy carkass from the gaping grave?
Were I as fair as Venus, could my beauty
Acquit me from that necessary duty
I owe to change? If so, I'd honor pleasure,
And hug my honor, and rejoyce in treasure.
If I had riches, they might make me fly
Upon the wings of prodigality.
If I had honor, that might make me dance
Ambition a Corranto, and advance
My self above my self: If beauty were
At my command, then might I chance t'insnare
The wantons of the world; nay, and intice
Vertue to change it self into a vice.
Now tell me Earth, where are those smooth delights
Thou often boasts of? are thy golden nights
Chang'd into leaden days? Oh tell me then!
Why dost thou so befool the sons of men?
Who, following thee, consume their precious time,
And are at last rewarded with a crime.
Content, that well-advised word imports
A Crown of Happiness: All joy resorts
Into the palace of a blest content,
And there resides.
Content is golden ey'd, and can behold
A dunghill with as much respect as gold.
Content's a Jewel; but here lies the art,
Which way to hang it in a restless heart.
[Page 96]
Much have I heard of that rich stone, which all
Are pleas'd t'entitle, Philosophical;
And Fame reports, that many wits have try'd,
T'obtain it, and before obtain'd it, dy'd,
And lost their eager hopes; nay, what is worse,
Left a rich study, but a poorer purse:
And to conclude, experience made it known,
Had they not lost Content, they'd found the Stone.

1.8.5. Pax una triumpha est.

PEace is the life of Happiness, and Strife
A living Death unto a dying Life:
Envy's the child of Srife, and pregnant Peace
Is an indulgent Mother, whose encrease
Adorns the Earth: Peace is a Turtle Dove,
Compos'd of nothing but the purest Love.
What's martial triumph, but a little blaze,
Which now aspires, and by and by decays?
What triumph is't, to see the shivered bones
Of breathless men, and hear th' impetuous groans
Of those whose feeble tongues invite a death
To dispossess them of their loathed breath?
Sad are th' effects of War, and yet this age
Esteems not Peace, but lets Contention rage
Into a madness: Oh unhappy State,
Where Strife's desir'd too soon, & Peace too late
[Page 97]
Soul-calming Peace, and heart-corroding Strife
Live here like Factors, both for death and life.
It is a sacred Jubilee, to hear Soft-breathing
Peace, chanting in every ear
Rare strains of Heav'n-bred raptures, which express
Full Diapasons of our happiness:
But 'tis a dying life to see, that bliss
Should, by a hellish metamorphosis,
Be thus transhap'd to Strife: There's no prevention,
Abused Peace perverts into contention.
And can the Diamond of Amity,
If once dissevered in pieces, be
Compos'd again? Experience makes us find,
'Tis quickly broken, but not quickly joyn'd.
Oh Peace! Can we expect thy blest return,
If we, whose flaming envies dayly burn
Thy name within the Aetna's of our brests,
Do make thee subject to our vile detests?
'Tis often seen, Cantharides do dwell
Upon the fairest Rose, whose pleasing smell
Delights the sense: It may be truly said,
Envy, that base Cantharides, hath laid
It self upon the Roses of our Peace,—
And rob'd us of a liberal encrease.
Have not our eyes in former times beheld
The fruits of Peace? have not our Souls been fil'd
With heav'nly pleasures, and our grasping hands
Gather'd the plenty of our peaceful Lands?
Did not the painful husbandman bestow
His labors with a cheerful brow, and sow
[Page 98]
The often-furrowed earth? But now, ah now,
Intruding Mars molests the active plough!
And have not we by sad experience found
Contentious Mars plows bodies, & not ground?
O miserable tillage! This will bring
A bloody Harvest, and as bad a Spring.
See smiling Bacchus, with his brimfill'd bowls,
Would tempt us to carouze away our Souls.
Mars with a palled look proclaims an end
To all our pastimes: Sorrow knows no friend.
Mars thunders, Bacchus smiles, and Cupid cries,
Envy survives, Truth pines, and Friendship dies.
Peace flies her Country, and with discontent
Bemoans our sorrows, and her banishment.
And thus we tumble in our own confusion;
A bad beginning findes a bad conclusion.

2.

[Page 99]

2.1. A DISCOURSE between the SOUL and WORLD.

HOw now sad Soul; from whence proceeds those clouds Wo.
Which still eclipse my fancy thus, & shrouds
Thy splendent glory? what contentious Fate
Hath bred disturbance in thy quiet State?
Tell me, come tell me, that my studious care
May be imploy'd to serve thee: Why, or where
Art thou opprest? Come, never fear to tell
Thy grief to me, thou know'st I love thee well.
Oh I am sick, canst thou be my Physician? So.
I can, sick Soul: Come tell me thy condition. Wo.
Draw nearer then, for ah my spirits fail; So.
If thou art sick, and canst not find thy grief, Wo.
How canst thou be a suitor to relief?
Were it a single sorrow that opprest So.
My wearied mind, 'twere easily exprest;
[Page 100]
But when pluralities shall circumvent
A troubled mind, how can that mind have vent?
Wo. Come, leave these vain exordiums, let my ear
Be heir to thy discourse, I long to hear;
Conceal not that, which if reveal'd may bring
A remedy: Come, tell me what's the thing
That thus corrodes thy brest; 'tis I alone
Must give thy heart refreshment, or else none.
So. Alas, fond World! how justly may I stile
Thy help a hinderance, thy treasures vile!
What answer shall I now retort, that may
Expresly satisfie? I cannot say
What I desire; for when I strive to speak,
My passion grows too strong, my tongue too weak;
My numerous pains infatuate my wit.
Wo. Pish, this is but a melancholly fit:
Clear up thy clouded thoughts, such fits as these
Are incident to all; learn to appease
Thy instigating passion, and advise
With me; I'le make thee well, I'le make thee wise:
My bounteous treasure shall increase thy store
With great abundance: Come, let's have no more
Of these thy petulant discourses, be
Prescrib'd by none (dear Soul) except by me;
I'le cure thy pain. Sou: Fond World, forbear
To urge my resolution, or insnare
My yeelding spirits; let thy language be
Reserv'd for them that will be fool'd by thee:
Thy elevating joys, which did before
Inrich my vacant senses, make them poor:
[Page 101]
And now I find the greatest plague that can
Concomitate poor miserable man,
Is to be happy. Wor: That's a paradox,
Is happiness a crime?
Mistake me not, rash fool, for my pretence So.
Is good, if not corrupted by the sence
You take it in: For tell me, what canst thou
Insinuating wretch vouchsafe t'allow,
That will perpetuate? hast thou the power
T'assure a happiness for one half hour?
If so, I will obsequiously confine
My self to thy directions, and be thine.
I tell thee Soul, thy fancy thus disturb'd Wo.
Will ruinate thy senses, if not curb'd.
Convince thy self, and be not thus averse
To Reason; after folly comes a curse.
But what is this to my demands? I see So.
Thou lov'st to hear thy self declare, not me.
Answer to my objections, then I'le rest,
A quiet Soul, in a resolved brest.
On that I were so blest to know the state Wo.
Of thy condition. Sou: Wilt thou still deviate,
And ramble from thy text? Wor: Believe't dear soul
There is no friend more strongly can condole
Thy weakness, then my self; I sympathize,
And truly grieve for thy infirmities:
Witness these falling tears; Oh, may't be known,
Sick Soul, I weep thy sorrows, not mine own:
Sorrow forbids my gentle lips to smile;
For ah I am: Soul: A woful crocodile:
[Page 102]
I, I, a woful Exile. Wor: For thy sake
I'le suffer thousand griefs, and undertake
Ten thousand more, that I at last may prove
How much I've merited thy truest love.
What voyce is this that penetrates my ear? So.
What do I hear, or do I seem to hear?
Or is't a dream? Wor: No, no, (blest Soul) 'tis true,
'Tis I that suffer these extreams for you.
Reserve thy tears: Alas! I did but try So.
Thy love, and now I find th' art Constancy
It self: But tell me World, wilt thou content
My greedy mind with wealth? when that is spent
Will't give me more? and when that more is gone
Wilt thou be sure to heap one bag upon
Another? Wilt thou make me to outvy
The sons of men in prodigality?
Dost hear me World? Wor: I do, and I am sore
Opprest, because thou canst not ask no more:
Honour, Wealth, Dignities, and all shall stand,
Like subjects proud, to kiss their Princes hand.
I'le hug thee in mine arms, and thou shalt sleep
In gold surrounded beds: whil'st others weep
At fortunes gates, upon their bended knees,
Thou, thou shalt sit and read sad Elegies,
Imprinted on their meagre cheeks; I, I,
These are true symptomes of Eternity.
What, melancholy yet? cannot these charms
Induce thee to my Soul-inviting arms?
Speak Soul, are these not joys? are these not pleasures
To be imbrac'd? speak, are not these rare tresures?
[Page 103]
Base World, th' art truly base; now I perceive So.
Thy lab'ring policy is to deceive.
What, didst thou think my heart begun to dote,
When I, to make a concord, chang'd my note?
Oh no, vile varlet; no, I did but try
Thy craft, by learning what thou wouldst reply
To my demands: Divinest language could
Move no reply, when baser language would:
But now thou nothing, made of nothing, know,
Th' ast lost a friend by me, and found a foe.
Here I declare my self, and do protest
Before just Heav'n, that whilest I live possest
Of vital breath, I will employ my heart
T'oppose thy flatt'ring folly; for thou art
A perjur'd Traytor to the Souls divine
And sacred Majesty, and wilt incline
Thy ears to nothing but to antick tricks,
And call'st divine thoughts, melancholly fits.
And so farewell, false Traytor; now 'tis known,
The more we are thine, the less we are our own.
And is this all? Sou: 'Tis all. Wor: Then Soul adue. Wo.
Oh may I ne'r prove false, till thou prov'st true. So.
[Page 104]

2.2. A DISCOURSE between the SOUL and FAITH.

So. FAith, can thy hand protect me? can thy art
Prescribe a cordial for a fainting heart?
Hast thou the skill to settle my belief,
And arm my Soul against the darts of grief?
Fa. I have the Art (sad Soul) hadst thou the power
T'imbrace belief, to bring thee to the Bower,
The fragrant Bower of pleasure, which shall be
Perfum'd and deckt with blest Eternitie.
So. I do beleeve, and my belief torments
My mind with millions of sad discontents.
I do believe what ever Heav'n devis'd,
Then judg, oh judg, how I am Tantaliz'd!
Fa. Oh know (mistaking Soul) such faith we call
By the sad name of Diabolical.
So. Oh strange, oh sad, oh miserable case!
Has Faith rob'd Janus of his double face?
Doth not the sacred Volumn end this strife,
And bids believe, and have eternal life?
Fa. Th' eternal tenants of th' infernal lake,
Believe and tremble too, but can partake
[Page 105]
Of nothing but their torments, and obtain
Nothing, except th' enlargement of their pain.
How comes it then to pass, if they beleeve, So.
They're not rewarded, but must always grieve
In utter darkness? Is their faith so strong
T'acknowledg God, & yet they know him wrong?
They acknowledg God in Justice, but have run Fa.
Beyond his mercy, and despis'd his Son:
Their faith prevails but only to inthrall
Their Souls, because 'tis not salvifical.
But tell me Faith, how many I learn to know, So.
Whether thou art salvifical or no?
Examine well thy self, then go and pry Fa.
Into the sacred Scriptures; let thine eye
with diligence, and let thy pray'rs
Sail towards the port of Heav'n in swelling tears
Then thou wilt find, how dearly God will own
A Soul that sings a penitential tone.
But when I strive and struggle to express So.
My self in prayer, I find a dubiousness.
It is a happiness ofttimes to doubt Fa.
A happiness:—
How oft did David (Gods delight) cry out,
My God, my glorious God, oh why, oh why,
Hast thou forsaken me, and dost deny
The spreading splendor which was wont to shine
And glimmer on this doubtful Soul of mine?
Be serious, Soul, and let thy thoughts reflect
On Gods indulgency, and thy neglect.
[Page 106]
How often hath he with his dewy locks
Attended thee, and with redoubled knocks
Desir'd, nay beg'd an entrance, to impart
Love-sick expressions to thy wilful heart?
And ah! how willingly hath he delated
His dear affections to thee, and not hated
To call thee his own Image, nay his Dove?
(Oh streaming Fountain of Eternal Love!)
How hath he lab'red, with a watchful eye?
To woo thee to his blest Eternity?
So. But tell me then, if I am thus, thus dear
Unto my GOD, why will my GOD not hear
My morning sorrows, and my midnight moans,
And stop the revolutions of my groans;
But let my poor Astraea fly in vain
To his high Altar, and return again
Unanswer'd? Ah, what over-awing Rod
Smarts like the silence of an angry GOD?
Fai. (Distemp'red Soul) oh do not thou become
(Because thy GOD seems deaf unto thee) dumb;
Reverberate the portals of his ears
With thy complaints, and let thy vocal tears
Invite an audience; urge him by the force
Of his own language, Heav'n cannot divorce
Himself from his own words; oh, let him know
Thou hast his sacred Promises to show
For what thou dost: Tell him, that Heav'n and Earth
Shall pass away, but the delightful birth
Of his pathetical expressions shall
Be heirs unto Eternity; go call
[Page 107]
Himself to witness for himself; be bold
To tell him to his face, thou hast layd hold
Upon his promises; tell him thou art
A whole, a broken, and a contrite heart:
Tell him th' art heavy loaden, and opprest,
And crav'st th' enjoyment of a happy rest:
What though thy querelous desires at first
Seem to be frivolous, and slightly nurst?
Detract not thou, but be progressive still,
And not too retrograte, but let thy will
Attend his pleasure; is't not fit that he
Should be attended, that attended thee?
What if he still denies? thou art but paid
With that dull Coin which thine own sins have made.
Hath he not waited at the brazen walls
Of thy regardless brest, us'd many calls,
Nay many thousands, and hath dayly knock'd,
And found the nurs'ry of thy ears still lock'd,
And bar'd against him? 'Twas enough to turn
Patience into an Extasie, and burn
The strongest Resolution, and incite
Vengeance to make an everlasting night.
Oh think on this (blest Soul) and be content,
Good actions seldom want a goood event.
[Page 108]

2.3. Another DISCOURSE Between the SOUL and FAITH.

So. I'M full, and yet seem empty; I have store
Of Earths delectables. and yet I'm poor;
I have what e're my rav'nous thoughts require,
And yet I want in having my desire;
I eat delicious food, drink sparkling wine,
Enjoy my self, and yet I am not mine;
I am the worlds delight, I am the child
Of pregnant fortune, yet I am revil'd:
And what external happiness can be
Thought worth imbracement, is imbrac'd by me.
Since all these Joys are heap'd upon my back,
I fain would know what 'tis I seem to lack.
Fa. Thy wants are soon exprest (dull Soul) I know
Who wants my helpful hand, wants power to go.
Oh what an easie matter tis to find
A stuff-dup body, and an empty mind!
Grief rests within the centre of that brest,
That knows not what is worst, nor what is best;
But still looks downwards on this dunghil earth,
That alienates the Soul, and breeds a dearth
[Page 109]
Within that sacred Essence, that divine
And glorious Monarchy: Who can define
Th' inchanting Raptures, and th' emperious Joys
Of sublimated Heav'n, that toyls for toys?
Thou sayst th' art full, yet empty; thou hast store
Of Earths delectables, and yet art poor:
'Tis true, th' art full; but tell me whence proceeds
That fulness, say, what charitable deeds
Hast thou perform'd; oh learn (frail Soul) t'express,
Too great a fulness breeds an emptiness.
Experience tells thee, there is nothing worse
Then slighted mercy turn'd into a curse.
Thou say'st, th' enjoyst what e'r thy mind requires
And yet thou wantst in having thy desires;
Thou eat'st, thou drinkst, and hast the worlds consent
To be her darling, yet art not content.
'Tis true, he wants, whose fulness wants desire
To want that fulness which his wants require.
What though the world accumulates increase?
There's no content, when Heav'n denies a Peace.
If Heav'ns blest mouth proclaim'd no peace should be
Unto the wicked; what's become of me, So.
Who always liv'd to sin, and sin'd to dye!
Oh miserable, miserable I!
'Tis true, GOD will not suffer Peace t'arise Fa.
Unto the wicked, yet that GOD denies
A Sinners death, and by a free consent
Promis'd a pardon, with this word, Repen :
'Tis a persisting Sinner must expect
A sad reward, for a perform'd neglect.
[Page 110]
So. Then what must I expect? have I not run
(Even from the rising, to the setting Sun)
In paths of negligence, and still persisted,
And rather back'd a sinner, then resisted
The power of sin? Oh how can I obtain,
Or thoughts, or hopes to be reclaim'd again?
Fa. The mouth of Heav'n did never yet divide
His language thus: My Soul shall not abide
A penitent offendor; no, his breath
Speaks better things, then the lamented death
Of those, who though they have in former times
Been permanent in their unbosom'd crimes;
Yet when the sense of their transgression brings
Abundant sorrow, then Jehovah sings
Rare strains of mercy to their Souls, and pours
His endless mercy down in liberal showres.
So. And is our GOD so merciful, so just
To lep'rous Souls? and shall not my Soul trust
In such a neverfailing GOD? Shall I
Retort a no, when he proclaims an I?
Oh no, Ile take what he shall give, and then
When Heav'n proclaims, my tongue shall say Amen.
For 'tis thy Christ, thy Love, thy Son must ease us.
Fa. Follow me Soul, Ile lead thee to thy Jesus.

2.4.

[Page 111]
Penetrant Suspiria Coelum.
ARe sighs so prevalent, that they can be
Admitted to the ears of Majestie?
Is Heav'n so weak, or sighs so strong, that they
Can make an on-set, and enforce their way
Unto the ears of GOD? Can sighs perswade
That Lamb to mercy, that our sins betray'd?
Can roaring Lions meet, and can they part
Without a combate? Can a lep'rous heart
Meet God, and think t'out-brave him in his Sion?
(Our sins are Lions, yet our God's a Lion.)
And what's a sigh? 'tis but a blast of wind
Blown from the center of a stormy mind:
And can the ayr of one poor sigh aspire
So high as Heaven?—
— Ah, sighs can never tire
In such a progress; though they be but ayr,
Yet they condense within the sacred ear
Of nursing Majesty, who hears the sound
Of welspent groans, and takes them at the bound.
Sighs are like morning Larks; sometimes they fly
And chatter praises to the blushing skie,
Then wearied with their flights, dart down amain,
Longing to repossess the earth again.
So sighs (the Souls best oratory) fly
To the Interpreter of groans, who'le not deny
[Page 112]
To hear the hearts embassage, but delights
To see souls (wingd with sighs) to take such flights
But, when our hearts are loaded with the cares
Of this vile earth, and sigh themselves to tears,
Oh then he stops his ears, and makes them know
Their sighs are earthly, and they fly too low;
Nor can they reach the suburbs of his ear,
Unless they mount into a higher sphere.
Then let thy welldirected sighs, my Soul,
Mount upwards still, that there they may condole
Thy ev'ning sorrow, and thy morning grief:
Then they'l (like Doves) return, and bring reli f
Unto thy floating heart, and thou shalt find
The operations of a sigh; thy mind
Shall purge it self; thrice happy's thy condition,
Sighs are good physick, when Heav'n is Physician.

2.5. Roganti dabitur.

WHo would not be a Begger, that may crave
Upon such easie terms, but ask, and have?
Here's swelling bounty, and sure this must be
No humane, but a divine charitie:
Here welli-nstructed Poverty may live,
He that gives power to ask, hath power to give.
The greatest gift that ever yet was known,
Was freely given, being ask'd by none.
[Page 113]
And he that gave't hath many gifts in store;
(Many give once, because they'l give no more.)
But he who gave that gift, will not refrain
(If wisely ask'd) to give us gifts again.
And if a heartrecording gift we make
Of this, his giving teaches us to take.
Be it ordain'd, that begging be an art,
Heav'n loves a giving hand, a begging heart.
But let us rest a little; here's the task,
Heav'n knows to give, we know not how to ask.
Methinks I hear some multiloquious fool
Make this reply, What, must I go to school,
And learn to beg? I'm skilful to require,
If Heav'n would suit his gifts to my desire.
Let fools delight in folly, let them think
That men are blind, because they see them wink.
Others methinks reply, Have we not cry'd
To Heav'n for blessings, and have been deny'd?
Have not our early voyces been extended
To Heav'n, and yet our labors vilipended?
Is this th' effect of pray'r? are these the gains
That we were largely promis'd for our pains?
Go silly Souls, and do not thus contest
With him that knows what's worst, and what is best.
Ye know not what ye ask; your fond desires,
If granted to, may breed such flaming fires
Within your greedy brests, and so torment
Your hearts with millions of sad discontent:
Then may ye know that true discretion lies
As well in asking, as in giving wise.
[Page 114]
And solid hearts will labor first to know
What's fit for their desires, and then they'l sow
Their pray'rs in such a soil as shall encrease
Their stock of Grace, and everlasting Peace.

2.6. Pulsanti aperietur.

KNock, and it shall be open'd; here's an art
Requires the labors of a studious heart:
It is an easi action, some suppose,
Because it commonly consists of blows.
Here's a mysterious knock; 'tis not the hand
O l sh and blood can knock, or tongue command
The gates to move; 'tis not Saint Peter's keys
Can turn the lock, except the Landlord please.
Heaven's a well-ordered family, whose gate
Opens not soon to them that knock too late:
But those, whose early labors shall implore
To have admittance at that sacred door,
Must well instruct their hearts, and have a care,
First learning how to knock, and after, where.
How happy's he, that really can say,
Go take thy rest (my Soul) th' ast knock'd to day?
H 's happy, that can speak such words as these,
Open the door (my Soul) thou hast the keys.
How happy's he, that by a faithful knock
Can make the yeelding Gates of Heav'n unlock?
[Page 115]
Pray'rs are the keys of Heav'n, the melting door
Is mercy, that lets in and out the store.
Faith is the golden key, which gives us all
A speedy entrance to the spacious Hall:
But we must open (or else not come there)
The gate of Mercy with the key of Pray'r:
Go then, my Soul, into some private place,
Unlock thy heart, and when unlock'd, abase
Thy self before the Throne of Heav'n, and fly
Unto the Temple of Divinity.
Go knock thy heart out; if that will not do,
Say, Heaven's grown deaf, or else thy heart's not true.
Cast off the thred-bare garments of thy sin,
Thy pray'rs will melt the gates, and let thee in:
The Governor of Heav'n will not refuse
To give an audience to such welcome news;
Nor can he be ungrateful, or neglect
To crown thy labors with a true respect:
Then tune thy heart, and teach it to express
Full Diapasons of true thankfulness:
And grant (dear God) when my poor Soul shall knock,
That my unworthy key may fit thy lock.

3.

[Page 116]

3.1. AN
ELEGIE
Upon that Son of Valor
Sir CHARLS LUCAS;
Who was shot to Death by the Command of the Counsel of War, before COLCHESTER.

To all those that love the memory of Sir Charls Lucas.
Reader,

WHen my serious thoughts reflected upon the Death of so worthy a person, I could not but privately deplore so publique a loss; and being importuned by his virtues, and my own sorrow, I gave my pen the priviledg (assisting it with the uttermost of my power) to compose this Elegious Poem upon his Death, which I cannot expect will be consonant to all humors, but only to them that love Loyalty. (Reader) I shall desire thee to let the strength of thy goodness pardon the weakness of him that is

His Kings, his Countries, and Thine,
JOHN QUARLES.
[Page 117]

3.2. AN ELEGY.

I Cannot hold, the Laws of Nature break
The Laws of Reason, and my Cisterns leak.
Pardon my tears (oh Heav'n) and let thy pow'r
Subdue my grief, and mitigate this showre:
Restore me to my self, and let my Quill
Weep for me; let it weep until it fill
volumes with sad tears, tears that may flow
From age to age, that all the world may know
It weeps for him, whose never-dying name
Gives golden feathers to the wings of fame.
But is it requisite that I alone
Should storm so great a work as this, and none
Invok'd t'assist me? Sorrow hates delay;
Oh hear my hasty call, and come away,
Ye grief-supporting Muses, here is that
Will sublimate your senses; ask not what
It is, for fear, lest melancholly I,
Ravish'd with what I speak, should faint and dye.
Times full-mouth'd Herauld will exactly tell
How Death hath rambled from his m sty Cell,
And with presumptuous violence hath shot
A Star, whose fall will never be forgot.
[Page 118]
Then rouze your down-cast spirits, now, or never,
Shake off your slumbers, or repose for ever:
Lucas has conquer'd Death, he's gone to keep
An everlasting Sabbath, and to sleep
In Abrahams bosom: Ah, methinks this breath
Should re-invite you from the shades of Death
To weep his obsequies; but if there's none
Will be invok'd, my Muse shall walk alone
Into the Wilderness of grief, and there
Condole this loss, till sorrow wants a tear.
Have I betray'd my self? Am I o'retaken
With folly? Or has Reason quite forsaken
The kingdom of my mind? If he be blest,
How dare my tears thus interrupt his rest?
Oh Times! Oh Manners! Is the world grown mad?
Some I behold rejoycing; others sad
As grief can make them: Sure we have forgot
To sympathize, or else why weep we not,
Or smile together? Has Death got the power
To make us weep, and smile within an hour?
Smile they that please, mine eyes cannot forbear,
For every smile of theirs, to shed a tear.
Come real-hearted Mourners, and incline
Your ear to my sad story, and confine
Your selves to sorrow, sorrow that shall need
No definition: if your hearts can bleed,
Now, now, they shall; and may that barren eye
That will not weep, prove blind, or always dry:
And they that can, and will not now let fall
Some tears, have hard hearts, or no hearts at all.
[Page 119]
Lucas (rare Soul) oh that my tongue might dwell
Upon thy name; 'twas thou that didst excell
The world in Martial Valor: He that can
Forget thy name, forgets to be a Man.
'Tis death to say th' art dead; Thou canst not dye:
If thou art dead, there's no Eternity.
Thou liv'st in spite of Death, yet I condole
Thy murther'd body; but I'm sure thy Soul
Lives above envy, where it shall be blest
In spite of those, whose wisdoms thought it best
To put a period to thy days, and bring
Joy to themselves, and sorrow to their King.
Discreetly done, and sure this Act must be
Recorded in the Rouls of Infamie,
That after Ages, when they do behold,
May blush, what noble Deeds were done of old.
Say Tyrants, say, was't not a shameful strife
To send a Death, after a promis'd Life?
If this be Mercy, Heav'n protect us all
From such a Mercy, so tyrannical.
If this be Justice, may such Justice have
A Hell to act in, or at least a Cave.
What had he acted that could contradict
The Laws of Justice? Search, and be as strict
As policy can make you, all ye can
Impute, was this, he was a valiant man,
Who lov'd his King, and undertooke to play
A noble Game, wherein his honor lay
At stake; what would you have a Gamester do?
Should he surrender up a game to you
[Page 120]
Without contending? Such a highbred shame
Had left a blur within his spotless name?
I tremble at my thoughts, I cannot hold,
My quill must run, ye can but term me bold,
As ye are tyrannous: In former times,
Boldness in truths were pardonable crimes.
How could ye chuse but tremble when ye nam'd
His death, whom honor and the world had fam'd?
Such deeds as these we needs must discommend,
Y'ave murther'd your own honors, and our friend.
How could ye chuse but blush to see him stand
Undaunted at your tragical command?
How could ye chuse but fly, when he was fled,
T'imbrace his death, and dye when he was dead?
How could your will-obeying slaves let fly
A bullet at his brest, and they not dye?
Why dy'd they not, when as they went about
To make those holes, whereat his Soul flew out?
Mars frown'd when he observ'd what ye had done,
And perpetrated on his dearest Son:
And thus declares; If any mortal shall
Dare to intitle, or presume to call
Such Rabshecha's his Sons, that they shall be
All voted Traytors to his Majestie:
The Muses, they complain, and are agreed
To vindicate his death, and ever feed
Upon his virtues, and will never more
on your actions, but will still deplore
Their lost-love Lucas; and the Earth shall ring
With Ecchoes of his praise, that lov'd his King.
[Page 121]
Apollo weeps, and says, ye have forgot
To cherish virtue, or ye love it not:
And to the world he'l fully make it known
In his destruction, ye have overthrown
Your home-bred honors: Now my Muse retire
And gather breath; 'tis wisdom to enquire
Which way to take our progress; we must know
Whither to go, as well as how to go:
The paths of death are darksom, and we may
Plead an excuse, if we have gone astray:
Errors in grief are incident to all
That truly solemnize a funeral.
But stay my quill, 'tis not my task to crave
Excuses, but to treat upon a grave,
A grave within whose sullen bosom lies
A Jem, contemn'd by those that could not prize
So rare a piece, within whom was repos'd
Virtue and honor, for he was compos'd
Of both: (Kind Reader) know, that Lucas had
A Magazin of worth; his Soul was clad
With robes of innocency, and his heart
So sworn to honor, that it could not start
From noble Exercises, though attended
With troops of dangers, dangers that portended
A thousand deaths: his wisdom could descry
Both life and death with a contented eye:
Life was his Jewel, yet he did not prize
That life at such a rate, as to despise
A noble Death; he labor'd to express
To both a very equal willingness.
[Page 122]
He knew his life was lent him to maintain
The rights of Majesty, and to regain
Those just prerogatives, which do belong
To CHARLS, who patiently sustains the wrong.
His Soul was undivided, and could never
Ramble from Loyalty; his whole endeavor
Was to advance that Cause wherein he stood
Engag'd, and dy'd it with his crimson blood.
Since thus he liv'd, since thus he dy'd, oh then
Let's imitate so good a life; and when
We hear the sad relation of his Death,
Let's learn to dye: Let them that live by breath
Examine his brave actions, and they'l find
He had a rare militia in his mind.
But stoutest Lions are at last o'rethrown
By Natures Laws; for Nature needs must own
Her principles: our earthen vessels must
At last dissolve, and turn themselves to dust.
Live we a thousand years, we do but run
In debt to Nature; and when those days are done,
We are but mortal, subject to decay,
And youth and age must go the self-same way.
Reader, as often as report shall send
Unto thy ears the death of any friend,
Wonder not that he's dead, that's too much wrong,
But rather wonder that he liv'd so long:
For Life's but like a Can le, every wind
May puff it out, and leave a snuff behind.
But whither runs my pen; Does sorrow mean
To make of this an everlasting scean?
[Page 123]
Lucas made Sorrow lovely, Death a pleasure,
And Life a trifle, Misery a treasure:
And now let no audacious tongue deny
That he taught Death to live, and Life to dye.
Now gentle Soul, go take thy sweet repose
In Heav'ns eternal bed, where none but those
Shall sleep, that in their life-times study'd how
To dye: there rest (dear Soul) I'le leave thee now.
My heart begins to quake, that word has bred
A palsie in my hand, and grief has spred
A vail upon my Senses; and Confusion
Steps in, and leads me to a sad Conclusion.
Shall I begin, or end, I know not whether;
Oh that I could begin and end together!
Begin, what's that, but to renew a grief?
To end, what's that, but to implore relief?
What shall I do? when as I strive to end,
I still forget to do what I intend.
When I begin, methinks I am content
Never to end: Distraction is th' event
Of Sorrow. (Reader) pardon this last error,
For I began with grief, and end with terror.

4.

[Page 124]

4.1. AN EPITAPH.

C ome gentle eyes, and take a view,
H ere rests a Jewel was as true
A s Truth it self; see how he lies
R enown'd, and crown'd, a Sacrifice.
L ay your hands upon yourhearts,
E ach eye must weep before it parts.
S igh, and sob; let each sigh call
L ove to attend his Funeral.
U nderstand that this was he
C onquer'd Death and Tyrannie:
A nd when your eyes begin to run,
S ay ye'ave gaz'd upon a Sun.
[Page 125]

4.2. AN ELEGIE Upon the Death of my dear Friend Mr ROBERT REASON Who quitted this life the 13. NOVEMBER, 1646.

—Sic voluêre Fata.
By J.Q.
AH, whence proceed those swelling floods that rise
Like restles waves fro~ my tempestuous eys?
The surges beat (provok'd by stormy passion)
My weather-beaten senses out of fashion.
But ah forbear (distemp'ring grief) surcease
Those storms, which rage against the shore of peace.
Forbear superfluous blasts, be not too brief
To dash my Soul against the rocks of grief:
But stop a time (sad Genius) here's a stile
Invites a rest; Let's meditate a while:
Can tears express a perfect grief? Or can
Excess of language re-inlarge a man
[Page 126]
From Death-benumming shades? Can blubber'd eyes
Invite him back? Can integrating cries
Enforce a life, in spight of death? Can all
The doleful sighings in this world recall
Revolted breath? Oh no: 'Tis therefore vain
To think that tears can call him back again
From Heav'ns immortalizing Throne: Thus we
Fond men expand our own infirmitie;
And thus our spend-thrift eyes profusely flow
In lavish tears, for him whose Soul we know
Is far more happy then we can express:
(Why do we then lament his happiness?)
Then go (sad Genius) and advise all such
That grieve, to grieve, because they grievd so much
For him, who Heav'n hath lately made a stranger
To grief, who rests above the reach of danger;
There let him rest in a most glorious sleep:
And if weak Nature urgeth us to weep,
Let's weep, nay weep indeed, until our eyes,
Blinded with weeping, weep for new supplies:
Let's weep for sin, let troops of sighs attend
hasty tydes to their long journeys end.
Oh let's deplore our most unhappy state
Betimes, for fear lest timedevouring fate
Blocks up the narrow passage of our breath,
And so surprize us with a sudden Death
And ah how soon the shadow-flying days
Of man consumes: how soon the troubled blaze
Of his frail life expires; and ah how soon
He finds a night, before he thinks 'tis noon:
[Page 127]
And how the pleasures of this sordid Earth
Shadow his senses with a glimmering mirth.
And what's this world? 'tis but a glass, wherein
Nothing appears but Heav'n-confronting sin:
Alas, its painted beauty represents
Nothing but folly, crown'd with discontents:
There's nothing here that truly may be stil'd
A happiness; here's nothing but's defil'd.
Alas, alas, in what a sad condition
Is dust-composed man! what expedition
He daily makes to gain those things, which gain'd,
Gnaw him like vipers; thus are mortals stain'd
And blur'd with vanities; and thus they spend
Their winged hours, as if they could not end:
Fond Earths-consuming trash hath so combin'd
Their hearts to worldly pleasures, that they mind
Nothing but profit, basely gain'd, which shall
Mount them up here, but after let them fall.
But where's that man, whose Soul contrives to be
Imparadis'd, and crown'd with dignitie,
With Hallelujahs Angels, which controul
The Family of Heav'n, who still inroul
In their sublimer thoughts, how great, how just
Their Maker is, before whose throne all must
Appear with spotless Souls, and fly from hence
downy wings of Dove-like innocence?
But stay my quill; have I thus soon forgot
My bosom friend, as if I lov'd him not?
No, no; though he be dead, he cannot dye,
Death cannot drive him from my memory,
[Page 128]
Where he shall rest, till time shall recommend
My friend-bereaved Soul unto my friend;
For whilest he liv'd, my sympathizing heart
Was truly his, and truly bore a part
In what he suffer'd; Ah but now he's fled,
And left me here, to say, my friend is dead.
Poor soul! and why poor soul? rash tongue, call back
That fond abortive word; how can he lack,
That dayly feeds upon delicious dyet
In Heav'ns great store house, and knows no disquiet?
This was an Error that my hasty quill
Too rashly stept into against my will:
I hope 'tis venial, Reason may afford
A pardon for a grief-relapsed word.
When passion rules the fancy, men become
Vainly Pragmatick, or extreamly dumb:
But why rash death, why didst thou send thy dart
To take possession of his willing heart,
And gave no longer warning? was there none
Could please thy pallate, only him alone?
'Twas quickly ended, and as soon begun;
Believe me death, 'twas but unfriendly done.
But why do I (fond man) expostulate
With thee, that art an all-consuming fate?
Th' ast done a happy deed, I dare not blame
Thy power, because I know from whence it came.
Shall I, because he was my friend, repine
At his departure? was he Heav'ns or mine?
I yield him Heav'ns, not mine; but yet I might
Claim him as finite, Heav'n as infinite.
[Page 129]
He was but lent me for a time, that I
And others by his life might learn to dye:
Whilest he enjoy'd the fulness of his breath,
His life was a preparative for death:
His whole delight and study was to pry
Into the bosom of Divinity;
From whence he suck'd such wholesom streams, that those
Which heard him, gave a plaudit to his close:
His dayly practice was, how to fulfil
And prosecute his great Redeemers will:
Heav'n was his Meditation, and he gave
A reverent respect unto his grave:
Faith, Hope, and Charity did sweetly rest
Within the Counsel-chamber of his brest;
And in a word, the graces did agree
To make one happy Soul, and this was he:
As for his moral duties, they were such,
That should I strive, I could not speak too much:
His civil carriage towards all men might claim
A perfect right to a beloved name:
His actions were so just, that they may tell,
He liv'd uprightly, and he dy'd as well:
His love, his sweet society might call
Ten thousand tears t'attend his funeral:
And to conclude, in him all men might find
A real heart, and a most noble mind:
But now he's gone, his winged Soul's aspir'd
To Heav'ns high Palace, where he sits attir'd
With glorious immortality, and sings
Melodious Anthems to the King of Kings.
[Page 130]
There, there his melting Soul, ravish'd to see
The Sunbright throne of splendent Majestie,
Adores his welpleas'd maker, who makes known
He's pleas'd to crown, and keep him for his own:
Oh there he rests, free from the rubs of Earth,
Hugging no shadow, but a real mirth:
Oh there's no grief, no sorrow found to vex
His peaceful Soul; no trouble to perplex,
Or blast his new-bred joys; there is no woe,
No care, no pain, no misery, no foe,
That dare presume to interrupt him; all
Must stand aloof, and not appear, nor shall
Incroaching boldfac'd grief, nor pale-fac'd spight
Dare interpose t'eclipse one blaze of light.
Oh there methink I hear him sweetly sing,
Grave, where's thy power? Oh Death where's thy sting?
Methinks I hear his warbling tongue declare,
How good his works, how great his wonders are:
Methinks I see a great united Band
Of glitt'ring Angels, how prepar'd they stand
To welcom him: Methinks I hear them say,
March on blest Soul, thou need'st not doubt the way.
Oh glorious sight! In what triumphing state
They guard his Soul to Heav'ns refulgent gate;
Where when he comes disrob'd of all his sin,
The gates fly open, and his Soul flies in.
Methinks my ravish'd ears are fill'd and blest
With such harmonious raptures, and possest
With such varieties, that even I,
Were sin absolved, would resolve to dye.
[Page 131]
Methinks I hear within Heav'ns Ecchoing Grove
The quavering Angels chant, as if they strove
T'excel themselves: Methinks that every breath
Is a sweet Invitation unto death.
But oh what rare, or what profound invention,
Beatifi'd with a strong apprehension,
Can sound the depth of those delights, which he
Shall swim and bathe in to Eternitie:
There rest dear Soul, having thus conquer'd fate,
Thy pleasures never shall expire their date.
There, there the Alpha of thy joys shall never
Know an Omega, but be blest for ever
With Alpha and Omega, who shall crown
Thy throne-approaching Soul with true renown,
Whilest we confused mortals here below
Gulp up the dregs of sorrow, and bestow
Curses in stead of prayers upon each other,
And dayly labour to confuse, and smother
Our serene happiness, and turn those joys
Which Heav'n allow'd us, to neglected toys:
And thus our deviating Souls befool
Themselves, and practise in the common School
Of Errors: Thus erroneously we bend
Ourflexive minds to folly, and commend
Non-sence for wisdom; Reason being dead,
Repose my Muse, discretion calls to bed.

FINIS.

This is the full version of the original text

Keywords

crime, danger, drink, food, fruit, gold, plague, plenty, religion, spendthrift, sword, virtue, want

Source text

Title: Fons Lachrymarum, or, A Fountain of Tears

Author: John Quarles

Publication date: 1649

Place of publication: London

Provenance/location: This text was transcribed from images available at Early English Books Online: http://eebo.chadwyck.com/home Bibliographic name / number: Wing / Q128 Physical description: [15], 131 p. Copy from: Harvard University Library Reel position: Wing / 1577:02

Digital edition

Original author(s): John Quarles

Language: English

Selection used:

  • 1 ) whole

Responsibility:

Texts collected by: Ayesha Mukherjee, Amlan Das Gupta, Azarmi Dukht Safavi

Texts transcribed by: Muhammad Irshad Alam, Bonisha Bhattacharya, Arshdeep Singh Brar, Muhammad Ehteshamuddin, Kahkashan Khalil, Sarbajit Mitra

Texts encoded by: Bonisha Bhattacharya, Shreya Bose, Lucy Corley, Kinshuk Das, Bedbyas Datta, Arshdeep Singh Brar, Sarbajit Mitra, Josh Monk, Reesoom Pal

Encoding checking by: Hannah Petrie, Gary Stringer, Charlotte Tupman

Genre: Britain > poetry

For more information about the project, contact Dr Ayesha Mukherjee at the University of Exeter.

Acknowledgements