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 Charles Lucas / written by John Quarles. Quarles, John, 1624-1665. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A56853 of text R235077 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing Q128). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 223 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 83 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A56853 Wing Q128 ESTC R235077 15037862 ocm 15037862 103079 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A56853) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 103079) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1577:2) 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 Charles Lucas / written by John Quarles. Quarles, John, 1624-1665. Marshall, William, fl. 1617-1650. [15], 131 p. Printed for Nathaniel Brooks ..., London : 1649. In verse. Added illustrated t.p.; engraved frontispiece portrait of Quarles by William Marshall. Imperfect: stained and faded, with print show-through and loss of print. Reproduction of original in the Harvard University Library. eng Lucas, Charles, -- Sir, 1613-1648 -- Poetry. Bible. -- O.T. -- Jeremiah I-V -- Paraphrases, English. A56853 R235077 (Wing Q128). civilwar no Fons lachrymarum; or A fountain of tears: from whence doth flow Englands complaint, Jeremiahs Lamentations paraphras'd, with divine meditati Quarles, John 1649 32173 73 0 0 0 0 0 23 C The rate of 23 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2005-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2005-12 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2006-11 Ali Jakobson Sampled and proofread 2006-11 Ali Jakobson Text and markup reviewed and edited 2007-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion portrait of John Quarles But for this Face , the Work had clearely gone For old smooth Qvarles himself , and not his Sonne ; Who sighing how KINGS fell , and Subjects rose , Scornes to mis-spend one single Teare in Prose ; This Book 's his shadowe , Hee 's his Fathers Shade , QVARLES is a Poet as well Borne as Made . T : M : W. Marshall Fecit FONS LACHRYMARUM OR A Fountayne of TEARES . London Printed for Nathaniel Brookes and sold at his shop at the Angel in Corn-hill . 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 LVCAS . Written by JOHN QUARLES . London , Printed for Nathaniel Brooks , at the Angel in Cornhill . 1649. TO THE illustrious Prince CHARLS , PRINCE of WALES . Sir , IF the Current of my affections force me against the Rocks of presumption , J humbly crave the assistance of Your gracious pardon : The extent of my ambition is to prostitute at Your Highnesses feet the first fruits of an Orchard , which J planted in Flaunders , during the time of my banishment , and now have brought them into England to be press'd for growing in a strange Country ; J confess , the fruit is green , and sowre , and cannot ripen till it feel the Sun-shine of Your Princely eye ; nor sweeten , till Your approbation shall be pleased to afford them a liking , and that liking honor them with a free acceptance . There is nothing that can make me esteem my self unhappy , but that the severity of these times will 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 J 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 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 Hide Your Counsels in the Bosoms of them that honour You with their Lips , when their Hearts are far from You. These are the serious and fervent Prayers of him , that desires to live no longer then he is willing to devote himself to Your Highnesses Commands , and is Your Highnesses most obliged Servant , JOHN QUARLES . 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 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 . TO My dear Friend the AVTHOR . THe Son begins to rise , the Father 's set : 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 Is 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. TO My much esteemed Friend the AVTHOR , On his Book , intituled , Fons Lachrymarum . THou prov'st Prophetick in thy doleful Muse , Whilst it the Prophets mournful tears renews Yet e're thy tears be spent , may England stand In her first glory , rais'd by Charls his 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 . Englands Complaint . EXperience tells us , those that are in pain Need neither Act nor Ord'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 a babe , 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 : 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 't is 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 . 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 cōplain● ? 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 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 re-appear ? 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 Soul-supporting 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 ; 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 : I ave purg'd alr●ady , and that will not do , I fear , I fear , that I must vomit too : I doubt 't is 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 ioynt 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 : 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 hell-bred thoughts found out a way To turn our Sion to a Golgotha ? Hath the Tartarian Counseller invented Such thriving Plots which cannot be prevented ? 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 : 'T is such as these which thus my woes advance , Whose very Souls are starv'd with ignorance : 'T is 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 prick-ear'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 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 reasō . Oh these are they , whose ruder tongues can cry , Advance Mechanicks , down with Majesty : These , these are they , whose dūghill 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 non-sence 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 flood-gates 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 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 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 nick-nam'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 't was 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 ? 'T would dull the sharpest brain to meditate Upon my grief ; nay , make them desperate . 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 ; 't is 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 : 't is 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 't will be to see The sad distraction of this Monarchie , Wrought by your slothful negligence , when all My lofty structures by your hands must fall : 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 't is 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 . 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 I le 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 : 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 . 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 close-made 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 ? 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 over-rules 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 too-soon 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 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 head-long 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● 'T is 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 , 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 dis-respect The principle ? 't is 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 : 'T is 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 ? 'T is 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 ? 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 long-continued patience ? It is he Whose life hath given life to Pietie . 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 VVorn out with sorrow , having none t' impart 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 't is ) whom bounteous Heav'n hath blest With numerous off-springs , 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 oft-times 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 : 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 , 'T was heav'n that made him glorious , & not you : 'T was 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 ! ) 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 For me , who am thus weak , and must decay , Except this grief-encreasing 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 ! 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 : And 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 . 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 prove — But not Physicians 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 off-spring ; 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 : 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 , Except 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 Dissolve to tears ( dear God ) and weep to thee : 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 Of 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 . 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 . 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 ? 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 : Spu●●'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're-took her when she was distrest ; Well might she wish for , but could take no rest . 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 ! 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 . 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 . 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 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 : 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 , And magnifies himself : His stretch'd-out hand Hath spoyld the pleasures of my fruitful Land : The very Heathen , whom thou didst deny Thy Congregation , do contemn , defie Thy just commands ; and with unseemly paces Inforce an entrance to thy holy places . 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 . 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 ; 'T is nothing to that sorrow Which I support , wherewith the angry power Hath pleas'd t' afflict me in His wrathful hour : For he from his all-ruling throne hath sent Into my bones a fiery Government : Yea , and his ever-active hand hath set , And I am desolate , and fainting lie ; Being turn'd from him , am turn'd to misery . Fast to my servile neck He hath bound on The wreathed yoke of my transgression ; Impair'd my strength , and by His just commands I 'm thrown into my persecutors hands , Where I , remorsless I , must still remain , Voyd of all hope to be enlarg'd again . 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 . 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 . 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 . 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 ! My Virgins and my young men all are fled Into Captivity ; my Priests are dead : My Friends refuse to hear me when I call ; For want of food my hungry Elders fall . 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 . 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 Co-partners in my mock'd at woes . 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 . 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 . Observe her heedless steps , and thou shalt know Sin was the Author of her self-will'd Wo. 'T was 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 re-invite 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 wry-look'd enemy T' upbraid thy actions : then my Soul advise How much it profits to be heav'nly wise . 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 Vpon 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 . He that is Sin-sick 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 ! 't is 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 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 . CHAP. II. Contents . 1 Jeremiah lamenteth the misery of Jerusalem . 20 He complaineth thereof to God . 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 . 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 two-edg'd passion hath cut off the horn And Chief of Israel , made him a scorn 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 . 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 . He threw down Israels strongest scituations , And fill'd Jerusalem with lamentations . 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 . His holy places , and his Altar he Abhor'd ; and gave unto the Enemie Her fairest Palaces : their ill-tun'd voyces , As on a feast-day , fill'd the Church with noises . 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 . 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 . 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 . My bowels yern , my tear-distilling eyes Are sore with gazing on the miseries Of frail Jerusalem : Alas , the feet Of her dear sucklings stagger in the street ! 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 . What shall I witness for thee , O thou Gem , Thou pining Daughter of Jerusalem ? To what shall I compare thee ? What can be , O Sions Daughter , equal unto thee ? Let all the world recure thee , if they can ; For Ah , thy breach is like the Ocean ! 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 mis-informed senses were content To see false Reasons for thy Banishment . All that past by , and saw thee thus decaying , Clapt their rude hands , yea hist at thee , thus saying ; Is this the City that the wordlings call Beauties perfection ? This the joy of all ? 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 . 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 thē strong , yea & advanc'd their strength . 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 . 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 . Consider Lord , to whom thou'st done this great , lie This unrepented ill : Shall women eat Their span-long children ? Shall thy slain Priests Tomb'd with thy Prophet in thy Sanct'ary ? 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 . 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 . Meditatio in Capitulum . SEe , see , my Soul , what Heav'n hath done ! O see What 't is t' offend a pow'rful Majestie ! Go , go , and quickly tell the sons of men What 't is 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 't is 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 . 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 , And 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 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 out-vy . 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 , 't is 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 Vnbosom all his actions , and make known 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 . CHAP. III. 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 . 'T Is I have seen affliction by the rod , Th' impetuous anger of the wrathful God . He with a pitchy darkness mask'd my sight , And hath not cloth'd me with the robes of light . He turn'd his hand against me all the day ; He broke my bones , and made my flesh decay . His lab'ring fury hath built up a wall Against me , and surrounded me with gall . In dungeon places he me set , like those Which in their graves have had a long repose . And he hath made my toilsom chains to be Heavy ; He hedg'd me from my libertie . And when I shout and cry he will not hear , But makes my pray'r a stranger to his ear . He hath inclosed me with stones that stay My hasty steps , he hath incurv'd my way . And as a lurking Bear observes my paces , Or as a Lion in the secret places . He turn'd me from my ways , disturb'd my state , Pull'd me in pieces , made me desolate . He bent his Bow , and made my trembling heart The aym'd-at object of his fatal dart . He caus'd his quivered guests t' inforce my veins , And take a large possession in my reins . I was my peoples laughing stock , their song Was tuned to my mischief all day long . He fill'd me full of bitterness and wo , And made me drunk with nauseous wormwood too . He brake my teeth with gravel stones , and he With heaps of ashes hath involved me . Banish'd my Soul from Peace , Prosperity Is quite relapsed from my memory . I said , my strength , my very hope is even Wasted and perish'd from the Lord of Heav'n . Ponder my woes , and my afflictions all , Remember both the honey and the gall . These things do still in my remembrance rest , And ah , my Soul is humbled in my brest ! This I recall to my swift-roving mind , Therefore I hope , and hoping , hope to find . It is the mercy of the Lord we sail So safe ; for his compassions never fail . They 're every morning new ; thy faithfulness Is great , and greater then I can express . The Lord 's my portion , saith my Soul ; and I Will therefore hope unto Eternity . And that just Soul , which dayly shall attend Upon the Lord , shall never want a friend . 'T is good that man should hope and wait upon Th' Almighties pleasure and salvation . 'T is good for man to exercise the truth , And bear the yoke of his offending youth . He sits alone , and silently makes known , He bears no other burthen then his own . His humbled mouth salutes the dusty ground , As if some hopes of mercy may be found . He 's fill'd with shame , he willingly invites T'a second stroke the hand of him that smites . For they that strive , and really endeavor , God will not leave , nor cast them off for ever . He will have pity , though he sends a grief ; In multitudes of mercy lies relief . He doth not punish , nor augment the smart Of sinners children with a willing heart . His feet take no delight to crush to death Th' offending pris'ners of th' inferior earth . To turn away mans right ( his heart abhors ) Before the face of their superiors . And to subvert a man in his just cause , The Lord approveth not , 't is not his Laws . And who is he whose spend-thrift tongue dare say , This thing shall come to pass , when Heav'n says nay ? Out of the mouth of him that 's God indeed There doth not evil , but known good proceed . Why doth a living man with grumbling thoughts Complain as one that 's punisht for his faults ? Let 's search , let 's try our ways , let 's turn again To God , and he will turn away our pain . And let our hands b'extended with our Souls To Heav'ns Star-chamber , where our God controuls . We have rebelliously transgrest , and thou , Thou hast not pard'ned with a cheerful brow . Thine anger hath o'reshadowed us , thou hast Slain without pity , we thy anger taste . Th'ast vail'd thy self with clouds , which will not let Our prayers pass thorough to discharge our debt . And as th' off-scouring thou , O Lord , hast made us Amongst those factious people that betray'd us . Our greedy enemies have op'ned wide Their mouths against us , and our pains deride . Fear , like a snare , incloses us about , And desolation will not keep without . Mine eyes run down like hasty floods of water , For the destruction of my peoples Daughter . Mine eyes are full , and tears do stream upon My cheeks without an intermission : Till Heav'n look'd down on my enriver'd face , And view'd my weeping from his holy place . Mine eyes affect my pining heart with pity , Because of all the Daughters of my City . And causless ( like a frighted bird that flies ) I still am chased by my enemies . They have destroy'd me in the dungeon , nay They cast a stone upon me where I lay . Th' imperious waves mounted above my head , And then I cry'd , Alas , alas , I 'm dead . I call'd upon thy Name ( O Lord ; ) my voyce Out of the dungeon made a dreadful noise . Th'ast heard my cries , Oh let thy ears not lie Hid from the breathing of my doleful cry . And in that day when I on thee did call , Thou cam'st , and bid me never fear at all . And when my Soul ( O Lord ) was fil'd with strife , Thou didst both plead my cause , and save my life , And thou hast plainly seen my wrong'd estate ; Judg thou my cause , be thou my Advocate . For thou hast seen their vengeance , thou dost see Their deep imaginations against me . Thou their reproach hast heard , and apprehended What against me their busie thoughts intended . Thou know'st the very lips of them that rose Against me , and the malice of my foes . Behold their sitting and their rising , I Am all their musick , and their melody . Render to them a recompence , O God , And let them feel thy handy-work , thy rod . O give them grief of heart ; O let them burst With dregs of sorrow , let them be accurst . And let thy angry persecuting hand Destroy , confound , and sweep them from the Land . 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 , T is he , 't is he , that will not be out-dar'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 ●ft-times 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 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 not still Vrge more and more his most unwilling will . 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 never-ending 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 head-long 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 Ye love to tumble in impurity ? Ah now my Soul ! let admiration prove That Heav'n's compos'd of nothing but of Love ▪ 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 , 'T is thou hast sinn'd , 't is he that must depress That head-increasing 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 . CHAP. IV. Contents . 1 Sion bewaileth her pitiful estate : 13 She confesseth her sins . 21 Edom is threatned . 22 Sion is comforted . 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 . 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 . 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 . 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 . And they that fed upon delicious sweets , Are desolate in the unquiet streets : They that were brought up in a scarlet dress , Embrace a dunghil as their happiness . For ah , my peoples Daughter suffers more For her great sins , then Sodom did before . 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 . 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 : 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 ! The woful women boyl their young , they have Turn'd their own fruitful bellies to a grave . 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 , 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 . The Priests & Prophets crimeless blood have shed ; Their sins drew down this mischief on their head . Like those they wander , whose benighted eyes Attract no light from the all-lightning skies : They have themselves polluted , so that none . Can touch their clothes ; they are with blood o'reflown . 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 . 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 . But as for us , our help-beguiled 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 . They hunt our steps , our oft-extended 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 . 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 . 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 . O Edoms daughter , now stretch out thy voyce , Be glad ; and for a time in Vz rejoyce : This cup shall pass along to thee , thou shalt Be drunk and naked , 'cause thou didst revolt . 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 . 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 sorrows wilderness : 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 Marshals giving punishment 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 fancy may 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 Senses even 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'lem lull'd asleep With fancy-pleasing pleasure , which did keep A rendezvouz within her , lest that doubt Should interpose , and put the fancy out Of frame ; And by a more diviner art Should breed a Meditation in her heart . For when the wak'ned Senses once have gain'd The upper hand , the fancy is restrain'd , And curb'd by judgment ; Reason too survives Again , and claims her own Prerogatives : The apprehension with her new-got 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 , 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 Good that 's good for nothing but t' invite Fond Souls to 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'd-up faults , Protract no ●ime , but clarifie thy thoughts . Command thy self , and thou shalt be reputed A most deserving Victor : not confuted 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 Satans attempts ; be studious to prepare Thy self , and let thy adversary see 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 Jerusalem bewails 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 . CHAP. V. REmember , Lord , what 's come upon us ; see , Ponder the greatness of our infamy . Strangers inherit that which is our due , Our habitation 's turn'd to aliens too . For we are Orphans , and all fatherless , Our Mothers are as Widows in distress . We buy our water , ( O unhappy fate ! ) And purchase fuel at too dear a rate . Our necks are persecuted and unblest , And still we labor , but obtain no rest . Unto the Egyptians we our hand have spread , Desiring to be satisfied with bread . Our buried fathers sin'd in former times , And we have born the burthen of their crimes Servants have rul'd us , and there 's none that will Deliver us , but let them rule us still . With peril of our lives we have obtain'd Our bread , because the sword was unrestrain'd . Our skins are black , like to an oven , and dry , Because the Famine caus'd a Tyranny . Sion and Judahs daughter have been led Away , and violently ravished . Princes are hang'd up by the hands ; the faces Of Elders have no honor but disgraces . They made the young men grinde ; the children blood Fainted beneath the burthen of their wood . The Elders at their gates did not abide , The young mens musick too is layd aside . The joy is ceas'd which was our hearts relief , Our active dancing 's turn'd to passive grief . The crown is fallen from our heads ; and wo , Wo be to us that have offended so . Our hearts are faint , and our suffused eyes Are dim , because of these calamities . Because that Sions mountain's desolate , The foxes walk thereon to recreate Themselves : But thou , O Lord , shalt sit on high Upon thy Throne , unto Eternity . Wherefore dost thou forsake us , and demure Thy self so long from us , that seem secure : Turn thou , and we are turn'd ; Lord we implore Renew our days , as thou hast done before . But thou hast quite rejected us , and thou Beholdst thy servants with an angry brow . Meditatio in Capitulum . COmplaining , what is that ? will that relieve Impris'ned souls , or teach thē how to grieve ▪ Tell me , sad Soul , can greater wants converse With flesh and blood ? nay , what more lasting curse Can be entail'd on man , then to complain To such an ear as will not once retain The least expression of a grief , but cry , Let woe attend him to Eternity ? O dismal sentence ! and if this be all , 'T would 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 , 't is 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 Proverb calls 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 Manna of our Souls , shall we then say , 'T is gone , 't is gone , Satan has stoln 't away ? And ah , can these , these naked words recal A lost estate ? O no , 't will but enthral Our happiness the more , and make our grief The more extream , admitting no relief . My Soul , if Satan e're shall make attempt Vpon thy weakness , lab'ring to exempt And win thee from thy self ; go and make known Thy cause to Heav'ns Judg-Advocate : bemoan Thy self with tears ; complain , confess , and pray : God loves confession , but abhors delay . Run , run unto him , that thou mayst prevent The wrath and censure of his Parliament . Go , go , for there thou shalt be sure to finde Abundance link'd together in one minde . There is no faction , no divisions there , But all are setled in one hemisphere Of true Opinion : There is none t' expect A bribe ; or else without a bribe neglect To agitate thy business , or exact Vpon thy guiltless conscience , or enact Their several humors : There is none to bring Thy Soul in 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 Vpon Jerusalem : Let her sad state Be as a caveat to thee ; let her fall Teach thee to stand : let her detested gall Prove honey to thee ; so mayst thou derive Thy welfare from her sorrows , and survive In everlasting bliss : Peace beyond 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 . 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 Vncertain 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 . 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 , 't is 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 The bowels of the Earth , till Heav'n should say , The night of sin is gone , and now 't is 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 ● blow it up with sighs ? 't were but in vain : ●storm , besiege , all is but labour spent , Except I could , as David did , Repent . MEDITAT. 6. ●●pent : O what a sound that word imports ! 〈◊〉 how it penetrates ! How many sorts ●f Ecchoes answer it ! Repent of all ; ●e that leaves one , repents of none at all . ●e that will learn how to repent , and when , First let him strive to be a David , then . MEDITAT. 7. ●nd art thou still disquieted , my Soul ? ●●ust thou in God ; in God , that doth controul ●●th Heav'n and Earth : 't is he that must and shal 〈◊〉 fear'd and honor'd , yea and lov'd withall . ●is he can send Jobs torments , and his wo ; 'T is we must pray to have his patience too . MEDITAT. 8. Fain would I come before my angry God , But that my sinful years still fear the Rod Of his Correction , yet appear I must ; Sure , sure he 's merciful , 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 MEDITAT. 11. But now I see the frailty of my mind ; 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 the Seas , 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 . 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 self-love 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 Shall 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 . 'T is quickly known , the Death of Sin must give The para'ned Soul a priviledg to live . 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 . 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 : 'T is not unlike , a misty morning may Oft-times 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 . 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 No grain 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 , 't is 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 . 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. Do Lillies 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 angry God 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 . 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 ? My Soul , take care , be still , Vnless he turns that good into an ill . MEDITAT. 30. Then learn , my soul , when Heav'n afflicts , to know 'T is 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 , 'T was good for David , 't will 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 . 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 vili-pended 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 . 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 the God 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 . MEDITAT. 38. Can Sin , the Souls consuming Viper , lie , And lurk secure , from Heav'ns all seeing eye ? O no , 't is 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 . 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 ) left malice 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 . 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' out-run 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 Vpwards 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 . 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 ? 'T is 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 thrice-denying 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 . 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 entertained Daniel in their Den , Did rather fear , 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 Daniels safest 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● MEDITAT. 53. 'T was 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 . MEDITAT. 56. Be sure ( my Soul ) when e're thou shalt begin To war with the Goliah of thy sin , Take Davids armour , and thou shalt or'ethrow Thy sin with a most advantagious blow . Boast 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 The Soul from all approaching harm , and lends A sword to fight with Satan , 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 . 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 . MEDITAT. 62. Rouze up my Soul , and let thy Eagle-eyes Behold that Sun in whom thy safety lies : Look well upon him and thou shalt discover A Lamb-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 off-spring 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 Heaven-forbidden taste , reverst The stroke of mercy , made us all accurst , And hourly subject to his wrath , whose power Created us , and made us little lower Then Heav'n-bred Angels ; till the sad inventions Of Satans malice quickned the intentions 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 the gall 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 with pity , pitied man whose state He saw was miserably desperate ; Begun to view him with a gracious eye , And invocates his sacred Trinity : And thus proceeds . — — 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 my ears , 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 For his own self . Alas my Son , 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 Speedy revenge ? 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 angry Father , stay A little longer , hear what I will say In mans behalf : Oh , is not man thy creature ? His sins 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 man-deluding 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 . Dearest Son , then go , Redeem relapsed man , 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 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 : 'T was 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 . 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 , 'T is 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 , 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 . 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 . 'T is vain , 't is 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 ! 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 . 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 ? 't is 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 ? 'T is 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 . 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 : 'T is 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 . 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 . Contenta vita est summa foelicitas . WHat is this world ? A looking-glass , 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 . 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 . 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 . 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 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 't is 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 , 'T is 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 ? 'T is 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 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 brim-fill'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 . A DISCOURSE between the SOVL and WORLD . Wo. HOw now sad Soul ; from whence proceeds those clouds 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 . So. Oh I am sick , canst thou be my Physician ? Wo. I can , sick Soul : Come tell me thy condition . So. Draw nearer then , for ah my spirits fail ; I 'm sick because I know not what I ail . Wo. If thou art sick , and canst not find thy grief , How canst thou be a suitor to relief ? So. Were it a single sorrow that opprest My wearied mind , 't were easily exprest ; 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 ; 't is 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 : 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 ? So. Mistake me not , rash fool , for my pretence 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 . Wo. I tell thee Soul , thy fancy thus disturb'd Will ruinate thy senses , if not curb'd . Convince thy self , and be not thus averse To Reason ; after folly comes a curse . So. But what is this to my demands ? I see 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 . Wo. On that I were so blest to know the state 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 : 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 . So. What voyce is this that penetrates my ear ? What do I hear , or do I seem to hear ? Or is 't a dream ? Wor : No , no , ( blest Soul ) 't is true , 'T is I that suffer these extreams for you . So. Reserve thy tears : Alas ! I did but try 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 out-vy 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 ? So. Base World , th' art truly base ; now I perceive 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 't is known , The more we are thine , the less we are our own . Wo. And is this all ? Sou : 'T is all . Wor : Then Soul adue . So. Oh may I ne'r prove false , till thou prov'st true . A DISCOURSE between the SOVL 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 Of nothing but their torments , and obtain Nothing , except th' enlargement of their pain . So. How comes it then to pass , if they beleeve , They 're not rewarded , but must always grieve In utter darkness ? Is their faith so strong T' acknowledg God , & yet they know him wrong ? Fa. They acknowledg God in Justice , but have run Beyond his mercy , and despis'd his Son : Their faith prevails but only to inthrall Their Souls , because 't is not salvifical . So. But tell me Faith , how many I learn to know , Whether thou art salvifical or no ? Fa. Examine well thy self , then go and pry Into the sacred Scriptures ; let thine eye Peruse 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 . So. But when I strive and struggle to express My self in prayer , I find a dubiousness . Fa. It is a happiness oft-times to doubt 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 . 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 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 ? 'T was 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 . Another DISCOVRSE Between the SOVL 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 't is 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 t is to find A stuffd-up 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 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 : 'T is 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 . 'T is 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 So. Vnto the wicked ; what 's become of me , Who always liv'd to sin , and sin'd to dye ! Oh miserable , miserable I ! Fa. 'T is true , GOD will not suffer Peace t' arise Unto the wicked , yet that GOD denies A Sinners death , and by a free consent Promis'd a pardon , with this word , Repen● : 'T is a persisting Sinner must expect A sad reward , for a perform'd neglect . 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 never-failing GOD ? Shall I Retort a no , when he proclaims an I ? Oh no , I le take what he shall give , and then When Heav'n proclaims , my tongue shall say Amen . For 't is thy Christ , thy Love , thy Son must ease us . Fa. Follow me Soul , I le lead thee to thy Jesus . 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 ? 't is 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 wel-spent 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 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 well-directed 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 . 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 well-instructed 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 . 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 heart-recording 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 vili-pended ? 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 . 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 . 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 ; 't is not the hand O●●l●sh and blood can knock , or tongue command The gates to move ; 't is 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 ? 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 . AN ELEGIE Upon that Son of Valor Sir CHARLS LVCAS ; 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 . 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 Whole 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 . 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 . Lucas ( rare Soul ) oh that my tongue might dwell Upon thy name ; 't was thou that didst excell The world in Martial Valor : He that can Forget thy name , forgets to be a Man . 'T is 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 Without contending ? Such a high-bred 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 Smile 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 . 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 ; 't is 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 , 't is 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 . 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 ? 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 . AN EPITAPH . Come gentle eyes , and take a view , Here rests a Jewel was as true As Truth it self ; see how he lies Renown'd , and crown'd , a Sacrifice . Lay your hands upon your hearts , Each eye must weep before it parts . Sigh , and sob ; let each sigh call Love to attend his Funeral . Vnderstand that this was he Conquer'd Death and Tyrannie : And when your eyes begin to run , Say ye 'ave gaz'd upon a Sun . 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 frō 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 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 : 'T is 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 Our hasty tydes to their long journeys end . Oh let 's deplore our most unhappy state Betimes , for fear lest time-devouring 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 't is noon : And how the pleasures of this sordid Earth Shadow his senses with a glimmering mirth . And what 's this world ? 't is 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 With 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 , 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 't is 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 ? 'T was quickly ended , and as soon begun ; Believe me death , 't was 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 . 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 . There , there his melting Soul , ravish'd to see The Sun-bright throne of splendent Majestie , Adores his wel-pleas'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 bold-fac'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 . 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 Our flexive minds to folly , and commend Non-sence for wisdom ; Reason being dead , Repose my Muse , discretion calls to bed . FINIS .