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LIBRARY OF OLD AUTHORS. 
 
 The following works are already published, or in preparation ; 
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 The Dramatic and Poetical Works of John Maeston. Now 
 
 FROM THE LIBRARY OF 
 REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON. D. D. 
 
 BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 
 
 the gentler feelings of human nature, — lines which in harmony 
 and grace and beauty would not suffer by a comparison with the 
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 fixed at about the year 1362. On this and on all matters bearing 
 upon the origin and object of the Poem, Mr. Wright's historical 
 
 introduction gives ample information In the thirteen 
 
 years that have passed since the first edition of the present text 
 was published by the late Mr. Pickering, our old literature and 
 history have been more studied, and we trust that a large circle of 
 readers will be prepared to welcome this cheaper and carefully 
 revised reprint." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 TM«T«/liSf {Continued, at the end. 
 
 Section 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2013 
 
 http://archive.org/details/poetiOOsout 
 

 • 
 
 2Ubrarp of £Hti Zutyoxs. 
 
the [^ NOV 6 19: 
 
 POETICAL WORXS 
 
 v v ' 
 
 OF THE . 
 
 y 
 
 REV. ROBEKT SOUTHWELL, 
 
 NOW FLRST COMPLETELY EDITED BY 
 
 7 
 
 WILLIAM B. TURNBULL, ESQ. 
 
 of Lincoln's inn, barrister 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 JOHN RUSSELL SMITH, 
 
 SOHO SQUARE. 
 
 1856. 
 
TO THE 
 REV. CHARLES JOHN LAPRIMAUDAYE 
 
 THIS FIRST COMPLETE COLLECTION OF THE 
 
 POETICAL WORKS 
 OF FATHER SOUTHWELL, S. J. 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 
 BY ITS EDITOR. 
 
CONTEXTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 REFACE ix 
 
 Memoir xiii 
 
 The Author to his Loving Cousin . . 1 
 
 To the Reader 3 
 
 Rursus ad eundem 5 
 
 Saint Peter's Complaint 7 
 
 Mary Magdalen's Blush 43 
 
 Mary Magdalen's Complaint at Christ's Death . . 45 
 
 Times go by Turns 47 
 
 Look Home 49 
 
 Fortune's Falsehood 51 
 
 Scorn not the Least 53 
 
 A Child my Choice 55 
 
 Content and Rich 57 
 
 Loss in Delay 60 
 
 Love's Servile Lot 62 
 
 Life is but Loss 66 
 
 I die alive 68 
 
 What Joy to Live 69 
 
 Life's Death, Love's Life 71 
 
 At Home in Heaven 73 
 
 Lewd Love is Loss 75 
 
 Love's Garden Grief 77 
 
 From Fortune's Reach 79 
 
 A Fancy turned to a Sinner's Complaint .... 81 
 
 David's Peceavi 88 
 
 Sin's Heavy Load 90 
 
 Joseph's Amazement 92 
 
 New Prince, New Pomp 96 
 
 The Burning Babe 98 
 
viii CONTEXTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 New Heaven, new "War 100 
 
 M^eonije 103 
 
 The Virgin Mary's Conception 105 
 
 Her Nativity 106 
 
 Her Espousals 107 
 
 The Virgin's Salutation 108 
 
 The Visitation 109 
 
 The Nativity of Christ 110 
 
 His Circumcision 112 
 
 The Epiphany 113 
 
 The Presentation 115 
 
 The Flight into Egypt 116 
 
 Christ's Return out of Egypt 117 
 
 Christ's Childhood US 
 
 Christ's Bloody Sweat 119 
 
 Christ's Sleeping Friends 121 
 
 The Virgin Mary to Christ on the Cro>s .... 123 
 
 A Holy Hymn 125 
 
 Saint Peter's Afflicted Mind 129 
 
 Saint Peter's Eemorse 131 
 
 Man to the Wound in Christ's Side 134 
 
 Upon the Image of Death 136 
 
 A Vale of Tears 139 
 
 The Prodigal Child's Soul Wrack 143 
 
 Man's Civil War 1-16 
 
 Seek Flowers of Heaven 14 s 
 
 Additional Poems. 
 
 Decease, Release. Dnm Morior, Orior .... 153 
 
 I die without Desert 155 
 
 Of the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar .... 157 
 
 The Death of Our Lady 161 
 
 The Assumption of Our Lady 162 
 
 Verses appended to the ' ; Triumphs over Death n . 163 
 Verses prefixed to "Shout Riles of Good Li it:." 
 
 L. To the Christian Reader 165 
 
 2. A Preparative to Prayer [66 
 
 3. The Effects of Prayer 167 
 
 4. Ensamples of our Saviour 168 
 
PKEFACE. 
 
 HAVE frequently felt surprise and 
 regret that no modern and complete 
 edition of the poetical works of Father 
 Southwell should have been submitted 
 to the public, especially when of late its taste has 
 been directed so much, and so favourably, to the 
 writers of the sixteenth century. And these sen- 
 timents have been induced not by a mere natural 
 bias or respect towards the illustrious Society of which 
 he was a member (and winch I hold in the highest 
 veneration, honour, and esteem), but because my ap- 
 preciation of the intrinsic worth of the poems them- 
 selves is shared by the few living individuals who 
 are conversant with them (for the editions are all of 
 exceeding rarity), and has been anticipated by such 
 acknowledged critics in that department of our early 
 literature as Headly, Warton, Park, and others. It 
 was therefore with no common alacrity that I re- 
 sponded to the wish of the respected publisher, that 
 I should superintend for his Library of Old English 
 
x PREFACE. 
 
 Authors the present volume, tlic text of which I 
 
 have settled and based upon the London edition of 
 1634, with the valuable aid of a manuscript pur- 
 chased at the sale of the library of Mr. Ileber in 
 April, 1830, and now among the additional manu- 
 scripts in the British Museum, No. \"A'22. It is 
 inexplicable why the late Mr. Walter, who, in 1 v l 7. 
 reprinted St. Peter's Complaint, and who congratu- 
 lated himself on having had access to tlii- very ma- 
 nuscript, as well as (in having procured " the whole 
 of our author's printed works, one single tract ex- 
 cepted," should have omitted no fewer than ttttr tv- 
 sevex poems contained in this manuscript, and dif- 
 fused through the several early editions, availing 
 himself only of three in the manuscript not pre- 
 viously published.* The interesting manuscript t 
 referred to, if not in the autograph of Southwell, is 
 certainly either contemporary with him or very little 
 later. A list of all his works and their respective 
 editions will be found at the end of the biographical 
 sketch which follows these preliminary remarks. The 
 only liberty which 1 have taken, beyond settling the 
 
 * I refrain from criticism on Mr. Walter's text. 
 
 f This manuscript tallies in contents and arrangement 
 with the one formerly in the library of the Catholic Church 
 sit Bury St. Edmunds, noticed in Canon Oliver's Collec- 
 tions, hut which unfortunately has gone amJSSJng since he 
 compiled his biographies. 
 
PREFACE. xi 
 
 text and orthography, has been that of transferring 
 from " St. Peter's Complaint " to the " Mseonise " 
 two small poems, which appear to be more appro- 
 priately placed in the latter work. 
 
 I have endeavoured to make the present edition 
 as accurate and complete as possible ; whether I 
 have been successful in the attempt it is for others 
 to determine. To use the words of Father South- 
 well himself (in his Address to the Eeader prefixed 
 to "Mary Magdalen's Funeral Tears:") — " Let 
 the work defend itself, and every one pass his cen- 
 sure as he seeth cause. Many carps are expected, 
 when curious eyes come a-fishing. But the care is 
 already taken, and Patience waiteth at the table, 
 ready to take away, when that dish is served in. and 
 to make room for others to set on the desired fruit." 
 
 W. B. T. 
 
 Lincoln's Inn, 
 1856. 
 
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MEMOIR OF THE REV. ROBERT 
 SOUTHWELL, S. J. 
 
 OBERT SOUTHWELL, the third 
 son of Richard Southwell, Esq. of 
 Horsham St. Faith's,* in the county 
 of Norfolk, a gentleman of ancient 
 family, and ancestor of the present Viscount South- 
 well, was horn there ahout the year 1562. f While 
 an infant yet in the cradle, he was stolen by a gipsy 
 or vagrant, who substituted for him her own child : 
 
 * The site of the Benedictine priory of Horsham St. 
 Faith's, about five miles from Norwich, with the lordship, 
 lands, &c. were granted circa 36 Hen. VIII. to Sir Rich- 
 ard Southwell of Wood Rising in com. Norfolk, and Edw. 
 Ebrington. In 1588 it was held by Richard Southwell 
 (father of the poet), and by him sold to Sir Henry Hobart, 
 afterwards Chief Justice of the Common Pleas. — Blome- 
 f eld's History of Norfolk, by Parkin, x. 441. 
 
 t Pits (who is followed by Puller) erroneously says that 
 he was born in Suffolk : but he adds :— " Roma? mihi fa- 
 miliariter notus erat. In philosophia atque etiam in theolo- 
 
xiv MEMOIR OF THE 
 
 but the theft was speedily discovered, and the wo- 
 man, apprehended at a short distance from his pa- 
 ternal mansion, confessed to have been prompted to 
 the crime for the sake of gain. This circumstance 
 Southwell gratefully remembered in after years. 
 " "What," says he, " if I had remained with the 
 vagrant? how abject! how destitute of the know- 
 ledge or reverence of God! in what debasement of 
 vice, in what great peril of crimes, in what indu- 
 bitable risk of a miserable death and eternal punish- 
 ment I should have been !" And his first care on en- 
 tering upon his mission was to convert to the Church 
 the female who had been the instrument of detecting 
 the theft.* At the age of fifteen he was sent to Paris 
 for education, and his religious instruction was su- 
 perintended by Father Thomas Derbyshire, (nephew 
 to the celebrated Bishop Bonner), one of the earliest 
 Englishmen who became members of the Society of 
 Jesus. From his example, he probably derived the 
 ardent zeal and desire to outer that distinguished 
 order, which i< manifested in his beautiful complaint 
 of the delay in his admission. — " divulsum ah illo 
 corpore, in quo posita sunt mea vita, mens amor, to- 
 
 gia nun poenitendos feceral progressus. Elegantiam mater- 
 nse lingua turn prosa, turn versa ^:it i- w\ iclr sectabatur. Et 
 in patriam missus illud talentum suum et in concionibuset 
 in libris scriptis exercuisse turn illaudabiliter dicitur." — 
 De IUust. Anglia Scriptor, ed. 1619, p. 794. 
 • Mori, Hi~t. Prov. Angl. Soc. Jesu, p. L72. 
 
REV. ROBERT SOUTHWELL. xv 
 
 turn cor meum, omnesque effectus," — and which may- 
 be seen in the History of the English Mission by 
 Father Henry More.* 
 
 It is stated by Bishop Chaloner, in his Memoirs of 
 Missionary Priests, that Southwell was for some 
 time an alumnus of the English College at Douay. 
 He could not however have long studied there, since 
 he went to Rome, and was received into the Society 
 on the Vigil of St. Luke (17th October) 1578, ere he 
 had completed his seventeenth year. 
 
 After his reception, he spent a considerable por- 
 tion of his noviciate at Tournay, in Belgium, lest, 
 being unused to the extreme warmth of Italy, his 
 ardent zeal, united to the influence of the atmosphere, 
 might have affected or destroyed his constitution. f 
 From Tournay, returning to Borne, he entered upon 
 
 * Ibid. p. 173. Tanner (Soc. Jesu Martyr, p. 30) thus 
 speaks of his love for the Order : — " Nescio an quis alius 
 unquam post sanctissimum Parentem ejus Ignatium, ma- 
 jorem de Societate Jesu sensum, majorein vocationis sua? 
 
 foverit sestimationem, quam Kobertus Southwellus 
 
 Scripsit aliquando in sua ad socios Romam epistola S. Xa- 
 verius, seternum anima: sure exitium imprecans, si unquam 
 ab amore dilectissimre suse religionis descisceret : si oblitus, 
 inqu.it, fuero tui, Societas Jesu, oblivioni detur dexteru mea. 
 Sedannon sublimes ejus de hoc ordine conceptus adsequa- 
 rit, si non superaret Kobertus, clarissimo in Anglia gentis 
 Southwellia? natus sanguine, ex his sua propria manu con- 
 signavit, patebit." 
 
 f " Ne videlicet ardentem Sanctis desideriis juvenem, 
 immoderatis Italia? aestibus nondum parem, duo in uno 
 
xvi MEMOIR OF THE 
 
 the course of philosophy and theology ; in which he 
 acquitted himself so brilliantly, that, after completing 
 his studies, he was appointed Prefect of the English 
 College there.* 
 
 Having been ordained priest in 1584, his earnest 
 desire to devote himself to the cure of soul* in Eng- 
 land was exemplified in a letter to the General, of 
 20th Feb. in the following year, wherein his future 
 martyrdom seems rather to have been anticipated, 
 than merely referred to as a simple possibility. The 
 same dauntless devotion to duty is expressed in ano- 
 ther letter to his late spiritual director, from Porto, 
 5th July, 1586, while on his way to discharge these 
 earnestly-sought functions, to which in that year he 
 had been appointed with Father Henry Garnet (him- 
 
 corpore calores opprimerent, utque tarn prseclaris dotflras 
 ornato, et qui per ardorem qmerendi spem excitarerat ex- 
 imia qusedam adipiscendi, non sola Koma nobilitaretur." 
 — Ibid. p. 177. 
 
 * " Romam Tornaco rursus vocatus ad philosophos, theo- 
 logosquo audiendos, neque ingenio, neque industria, neque 
 laude studiorum, aut fructu, aeque vita cum virtute acta 
 cuiquam se passus est esse inferiorem. Et ingenii quidem 
 et industria' laus in universe philosophise decretia propug- 
 nandis enituit ; tuin etiam. cum post decursum theologiffi 
 stadium, aliorum studiis est prasfectua in Anglicano do 
 urbe Seminario ; in quojuventus id temporis copiosissima, 
 vt ingeniorum rarietate, et Bplendore florentissima non fa- 
 cile nisi ab omnibus doctrinas prsesidiis ornato atque in- 
 structo ducebatur."— Ibid. p. L79. 
 
REV. ROBERT SOUTHWELL. svii 
 
 self the well known subsequent martyr), and in com- 
 pany with whom he had left Rome on the 8th of May 
 previously. These may be seen in Father More's 
 History, so frequently referred to.* Southwell and 
 his companion reached England on the 7th of July 
 following. 
 
 The advent of these distinguished men was during 
 a most disturbed period, when the course of political 
 intrigues, for and against the unfortunate Queen of 
 Scots, had established a reign of terror over the 
 Catholic community. f Already had seventy priests 
 been banished; Francis Throckmorton and Dr. Parry 
 had fallen on the scaffold, the gallant confederacy of 
 Babington and his friends was rapidly leading them 
 to a similar fate, and Philip, Earl of Arundel, was a 
 prisoner in the Tower. Great, therefore, was the 
 danger which these holy men incurred by landing ; 
 yet they fortunately at that time escaped, and were 
 hospitably received and entertained for some months 
 in the house of William, 3rd Lord Yaux of Harrow- 
 den,:!: when the confessor of the Countess of Arun- 
 del (wife of Philip aforesaid) chancing to die, Father 
 
 * Pp. 182, 183. 
 
 f As Father More truly says : — " Ea enim erant tem- 
 pera in quibus malitia vires omnes suas intendebat ad per- 
 niciem, et quidquid vel potentia yel arte poterat, id omne 
 et subdole machinabatur, et furore percita exequebatur." 
 
 } At Hackney. 
 
 b 
 
xviii MEMOIR OF THE 
 
 Southwell was appointed domestic chaplain and con- 
 fessor to her ladyship in his place. It Mas while in 
 her family that he composed for the Earl's use the 
 " Consolation for Catholics," and the two following 
 letters, painfully illustrative of the period and written 
 shortly before his own sufferings, which are translated 
 from the History of the Persecutions in England, 
 by Didacus Yepes, liishop of Tarrazona, lib. v. 
 cap. G, p. (547. 
 
 " As yet we are alive and well, being unworthy, 
 it seems, of prisons. We have oftener sent than 
 received letters from your parts, though they arc 
 not sent without difficulty; and some, we know, 
 have been lost. 
 
 " The condition of Catholic recusants hero is the 
 same as usual, deplorable and full of fears and dan- 
 gers, more especially since our adversaries have 
 looked for wars. As many of our- as are in chains 
 rejoice, and are comforted in their prisons ; and 
 they thai are at liberty set no? their hearts upon it, 
 nor expect it to be of long continuance. All, by 
 the great goodness and mercy of God, arm them- 
 selves to Miller any thing that can come, how hard 
 soever it may be. as it shall please our Lord ; for 
 
 whose greater glory and the salvation of their souls, 
 
 they are more concerned than for any temporal losses. 
 
 ■• A little while ago they apprehended two priests, 
 
REV. ROBERT SOUTHWELL. xix 
 
 who have suffered such cruel usages in the prison of 
 Bridewell as can scarce he believed. What was 
 given them to eat was so little in quantity, and 
 withal, so filthy and nauseous, that the very sight of 
 it was enough to turn their stomachs. The labours 
 to which they obliged them were continual and im- 
 moderate, and no less in sickness than in health ; 
 for with hard blows and stripes they forced them to 
 accomplish their task, how weak soever they were. 
 Then beds were dirty straw, and their prison most 
 filthy. 
 
 " Some are there hung up, for whole days, by 
 the hands, in such manner that they can but just 
 touch the ground with the tops of their toes. In 
 fine, they that are kept in that prison truly live in 
 lacu miserice et in luto feeds, Psalm xxxix. This 
 purgatory we are looking for every hour, in which 
 Topcliffe and Young, the two executioners of the 
 Catholics, exercise all kinds of torments. But come 
 what pleaseth God, we hope we shall be able to bear 
 all hi Him that strengthens us. In the mean time 
 we pray, that they may he put to confusion ivho 
 work unjustly : and that the Lord may speak peace 
 to His people. Psalms xxiv. and lxxxiv, that, as the 
 royal prophet says, His glory may dwell in our land. 
 I most humbly recommend myself to the holy sa- 
 crifices of your Beverence and of all our friends. 
 January 16, 1590." 
 
ix MEMOIR OF THE 
 
 II. 
 
 " We have written many letters, but, it seems,, 
 few have come to your hands. We sail in the midst 
 
 of these stormy waves with no small danger ; from 
 which, nevertheless, it has pleased our Lord hitherto 
 to deliver us. 
 
 " We have altogether, with much comfort, re- 
 newed the Vows of the Society, according to our 
 custom, spending some days in exhortations and 
 spiritual conferences. Ajperuimus oro, e t attraxim us 
 Spiritum. It seems to me that I see the beginning 
 of a religious life set on foot in England, of which we 
 now sow the seeds with tears, that others hereafter 
 may with joy carry in the sheaves to the heavenly 
 granaries. 
 
 " We have sung the Canticles of the Lord in a 
 strange land, and in this desert we have sucked 
 honey from the rock, and oil from the hard stone. 
 Hut these our joys ended in sorrow, and sudden fears 
 dispersed us into different places : hut, in line, we 
 were more afraid than hurt, for we all escaped. I, 
 with another of ours, seeking to avoid ScyUa, had 
 like to have fallen into Charybdis ; but, bj the mercy 
 of God, we passed betwixt them both without being 
 shipwrecked, and are now -ailing in a safe harbour. 
 
 " In another of mine 1 gave an account of the 
 
REV. ROBERT SOUTHWELL. xxi 
 
 late martyrdoms of Mr. Bayles and of Mr. Horner,* 
 and of the edification which the people received 
 from their holy ends. With such dews as these the 
 Church is watered, id in stilUcidiis hujusmodi Ice- 
 tetur germhians, Psal. lxiv. We also look for the 
 time (if we are not unworthy of so great a glory) 
 when our day (like that of the hired servant) shall 
 come. In the meanwhile I recommend myself very 
 much to your Eeverence's prayers, that the Father 
 of Lights may enlighten us, and confirm us with His 
 principal Spirit. Given March 8, 1590. 
 
 One of his earliest cares, upon entering on his 
 mission, was to bring back his own father to his re- 
 ligious duties. Mr. Southwell, a gentleman of opu- 
 lence, had married a lady of the Court, formerly — 
 according to More — the instructress of Queen Eliz- 
 abeth in the Latin language; and this connection, 
 as well as his wealth (which seldom pays the turn- 
 pike to heaven), appears to have made him a time- 
 server, and, although a believer in the doctrines of the 
 Church, an absentee from its observances. From this 
 state of enslavement to expediency and mammon, Fa- 
 ther Southwell naturally sought to emancipate his 
 parent ; and his desire was happily fulfilled, through 
 the instrumentality (inter alia) of a letter printed at the 
 end of this Memoir. That which follows it, addressed 
 
 * See Bp. Chaloners Memoirs of Missionary Priests, i. 
 249, ed. 1741. 
 
xrii MEMOIR OF THE 
 
 to his brother, shews that he also had required and 
 received the spiritual attentions of the future martyr. 
 
 Although fully engaged with his sacerdotal duties, 
 yet. by rate and strict distribution of time, 
 
 Fathei Southwell was enabled to make his abilities 
 conducive both to the intellectual recreation and to 
 spiritual edification of his countrymen; as the 
 its of the present volume and his other works 
 amply shew. These were all composed during his 
 residence with Lady Arundel. 
 
 He had in this manner, for six years, pursued, 
 with very great success, the objects of his mission, 
 when these were abruptly terminated by his foul be- 
 trayal into the hands of his enemies in 1592. The 
 circumstances were as follow : — 
 
 There was resident at Uxendon,* near Harrow on 
 
 * •• The manor of Woxindon. now called Uxendon, in this 
 parish, was formerly the prop e rty of the Travers family, 
 from whom it passed to Sir Nicholas Brembre, about the 
 
 rl376. S n:.- years afterwards, in consequence of a judg- 
 ment against this Sir Nicholas in parliament, it became for- 
 granted by King Richard, anno 
 1394, in consideration of the sum of <£'40 to Thomas Gode- 
 lac and Joan his wife. I: s ble that i: 
 
 from the family of Godelac to that of Bellamy n (see Ap- 
 pendix V. , nee "fan intermarriage ; for it ap- 
 pear:, that the Bellamys of Uxendon, who were fin* many 
 years pro] f this and other large estates in Harrow, 
 quartered the arms of Godelac. 
 
 • I: u relnd i in the chronicles, that Babington, who, 
 
REV. ROBERT SOUTHWELL, xxiii 
 
 the Hill, in Middlesex, a Catholic family of the 
 name of Bellamy, whom Southwell was in the habit 
 of visiting and providing with religious instruction 
 when he exchanged his ordinary close confinement 
 for a purer atmosphere. One of the daughters, 
 Ann, had in her early youth exhibited marks of the 
 most vivid and unshakeable piety ; but, having been 
 committed to the Gatehouse of Westminster, her 
 faith gradually departed, and along with it her virtue. 
 For, having formed an intrigue with the Keeper of 
 the prison, she subsequently married him, and by 
 this step forfeited all claim which she had by law or 
 favour upon her father. In order, therefore, to ob- 
 tain some fortune, she resolved to take advantage of 
 
 with other conspirators, had laid a plot against Queen Eli- 
 zabeth and the state, in the year 1586, when he found that 
 the conspiracy was detected, being a very handsome man, 
 disfigured his face with the juice of green walnuts, and 
 wandered about in that disguise with his associates till 
 they were half-starred, in which condition they were re- 
 ceived at Bellamy's house near Harrow, where they were 
 at length discovered, and being brought to London, were 
 executed with circumstances of unusual severity. Jerome 
 Bellamy suffered death also for concealing them ; his bro- 
 ther destroyed himself in prison. The manor of Uxendon 
 was aliened by the Bellamys to the Page family in the early 
 part of the last century, and is now (1795) the property of 
 Eichard Page, Esq. of Wimbley." (Lysons' Environs, 
 ii. 565.) At present (1856) it belongs to Henry Young, 
 Esq. of Sudbury : no vestige of the mansion exists. 
 
xxiv MEMOIR OF THE 
 
 the Act of 27 Elizabeth, which made the harbouring 
 of a priest treason, with confiscation of the offender's 
 
 goods. Accordingly she scut a messenger to South- 
 well, urging him to meet her on a certain day and 
 hour at her father's house, whither he, either in ig- 
 norance of what had happened, or under the impres- 
 sion that she sought his spiritual assistance through 
 motives of penitence, went at the appointed time. 
 In the meanwhile, having apprised her husband of 
 this, as also of the place of concealment in her 
 father's house and the mode of access, he conveyed 
 the information to Topcliffe,* an implacable per- 
 secutor and denouncer of the Catholics, who, with 
 a band of his satellites, surrounded the premises, 
 broke open the house, arrested his Reverence, and 
 carried him off in open day exposed to the gaze of 
 the populace. He was taken in the first instance 
 to TopclinVs house, where during a few weeks lie 
 was put to the torture ten times with such dreadful 
 
 * See notice of tli is bloodhound in Lodge's Illustrations 
 of British History, ii. p. 12."). octavo edition. The mis* 
 creanl had permission from the Queen's Council to torture 
 in any manner, and to any extent short of death, the unfor- 
 tunate victims of his generally too successful search. He 
 was frequently heard to say that nothing gave him greater 
 delight than the torturing and butchering of Catholics; 
 and that, if his power was equal to his will, his dearest 
 pleasure would be to blow every Jesuit to powder in the 
 air. 
 
REV. ROBERT SOUTHWELL. xxv 
 
 severity, that Southwell, complaining of it to his 
 judges, declared in the name of God that death 
 would have been more preferable. The manner in 
 which he was agonized may be seen in Tanner's 
 " Societas Jesu Martyr." But all was to no pur- 
 pose ; the sufferer maintained an inflexible silence ; 
 nothing could shake his constancy, and the tor- 
 mentors affirmed that he resembled a post rather 
 than a man.* He was then transferred to the same 
 Gatehouse which was kept by the husband of the 
 wretch who had betrayed him ;f and after being 
 confined there for two months, was removed to the 
 Tower, and thrown into a dungeon so filthy and 
 noisome, that, when brought forth at the end of a 
 month to be examined, his clothes were covered with 
 vermin. Whereupon his father presented a petition 
 
 * As to his fortitude we have the admiring testimony of 
 Cecil : — " Let antiquity boast of its Roman heroes and the 
 patience of captives in torments : our own age is not in- 
 ferior to it, nor do the minds of the English cede to the 
 Eomans. There is at present confined one Southwell, a 
 Jesuit, who, thirteen times most cruelly tortured, cannot 
 be induced to confess anything, not even the colour of the 
 horse whereon on a certain day he rode, lest from such in- 
 dication his adversaries might conjecture in what house, or 
 in company of what Catholics, he that day was."' — More, 
 ut supra, p. 193. 
 
 t What portion this vile woman received of her father's 
 escheated property does not appear ; but Father More 
 states that he had seen the poor old man in Belgium, ex- 
 
xxvi MEMOIR OF THE 
 
 to Elizabeth,, humbly entreating that if his son had 
 committed anything for which by the laws he had 
 deserved it, he might suffer death ; if not. as he 
 was a gentleman, he hoped her Majesty would be 
 pleased to order that he should be treated as such, 
 and not be confined in that filthy hole.* The 
 Queen, in consequence, ordered that he should be 
 better lodged, and gave his father permission to 
 supply him with clothing, necessaries, and hooks ; 
 of which latter, the only ones which he asked fur were 
 the Bible and the works of St. Bernard. Ihiring all 
 his protracted confinement, although his Bister Mary, 
 who was married to a o-entleman of the name of Ban- 
 
 o 
 
 nister, had occasional access to him. he never dis- 
 coursed of anything but religion. f 
 
 iled and beggared, and dragging out a precarious existence 
 on some miserable pittance. This seems somewhat at 
 variance with what is said by Lysons in a previous note, 
 p. xxiii. 
 
 * Chaloner's Memoirs of Missionary Priests, i. 325, ed. 
 1741. 
 
 f From a letter of one John Danvell, addressed to Sir 
 Robert Cecil, 5 Aug. 1595 (State Paper Office, Domestic, 
 No. 200), it would seem that he was one of the diabolical 
 emissaries of the time. He says : — " At the arayment of 
 Yorke, Williams and Southwell the Jesnite, John Danyell 
 was nomynated t<> have been the first discoverer of these 
 late practizes intended against her hvghness and her do- 
 minions, myself standing by. I refere me to the reports 
 of my veray good lo. yo r . father, the lievetenant of the 
 
REV. ROBERT SOUTHWELL, xxvii 
 
 After three years' close detention in the Tower, 
 Father Southwell wrote to the Lord Treasurer, Cecil, 
 humbly entreating that he might either he brought 
 to trial, to answer for himself, or, at least, that his 
 friends might have permission to come to see him. 
 Whereupon, it is said, that Cecil replied to the effect 
 that " if he was in so much haste to he hanged, he 
 should have his desire." Be this as it may, on the 
 18th of February, 1594-5, he was taken from the 
 Tower to Xewgate, and thrown into a subterraneous 
 dungeon there, (called Limbo from its darkness and 
 offensiveness,) where he was detained three days and 
 then removed to Westminster for trial. On the 
 21st he was placed at the bar, before Chief Justice 
 
 Tower, Mr. Toplyffe and Mr. Justice Young yf he were 
 alyve, how redely I was sins my coming to delyver my 
 knowledge of all such as came or weare to come for any 
 ill entent, and will so contynue while I lyve with r respect 
 to persons. In case that old George Herbert who was 
 with Charles Arrondell beyond the seas be (as I hear say) 
 apprehended and comytted to the Tower, he can discover 
 as moche as Holt the Jesuite. S. Will m . Taylor and Hughe 
 Owen ; yf he hathe or will not of himselfe like a good sub- 
 ject delivir his knowledge plainlie and truelie, and that her 
 Matie and yo r . honors be not sufficientlie instructed to 
 examyne him uppon certaine points I will deliver y r . honor 
 in writing by way of Interrogatory so moche as I know, 
 and will confront him or any other for her Maties' service. 
 I was never a tray tor in any country nor beyond the seas," 
 &c. &c. &c. 
 
xxviii MEMOIR OF THE 
 
 Popham, Justice Owen, Baron Evans, and Sergeant 
 Daniel ; Sir Edward Coke. Solicitor General, ap- 
 pearing for the prosecution. To the usual question 
 Father Southwell, of course, pleaded not guilty to the 
 charge of treason, hut fully and distinctly admitted 
 (his only crime) that he was a priest; and had re- 
 turned to his own country simply to administer the 
 Sacraments to those of his religion who might desire 
 them, and perform the ordinary duties of a clergy- 
 man of the Church of Rome. The Chief Justice 
 and Coke having, in their accustomed style, ad- 
 dressed the Jury, a verdict of guilty, necessarily in 
 accordance with the existing statute, was returned. 
 A succinct report of the proceedings may he seen in 
 the Memoirs of Bishop Chaloner previously referred 
 to ; the prisoner's noble defence in the history of 
 Father More. 
 
 At daybreak of the 22nd the chief jailor apprised 
 him that he was to die that morning. Southwell 
 embraced him. and said, " You could not bring me 
 more joyful tidings. I regret that I have nothing 
 left of greater value, but accept this nightcap as 
 evidence of my gratitude.*' This gift the jailor held 
 in such estimation that, while he lived, nothing 
 could induce him to part with it. Being placed 
 upon a hurdle, he was drawn to the place of execu- 
 tion at Tyburn. On arriving there, when unbound, 
 he wiped from his face the mud which the jolting 
 
REV. ROBERT SOUTHWELL. xxix 
 
 of the sledge had cast upon it, with a neckerchief, 
 which he threw to one of the Society whom he re- 
 cognized in the crowd, by whom it was given to 
 Father Garnet, from whose hands it passed to Acqua- 
 viva, at that time General of the Order. He then, 
 after making the sign of the Cross, addressed the 
 multitude, who, by then- silence and decorum, testi- 
 fied their admiration of the martyr, in the following 
 words, beginning with those of the Apostle : — 
 
 " ' Whether we live, we live unto the Lord ; or 
 whether we die, we die unto the Lord. Therefore, 
 whether we live or whether we die, we are the 
 Lord's.' Of which most clement God and Father 
 of Mercies, through the blood of Jesus Christ, I in 
 the first place crave forgiveness for all things wherein 
 I may have offended since my infancy. Then as 
 regards the Queen (to whom I have never done nor 
 wished any evil), I have daily prayed for her, and 
 now with all my heart do pray, that from His great 
 mercy, through the wounds and most worthy merits 
 of Christ His Son, He may grant that she may use 
 the ample gifts and endowments wherewith He has 
 endowed her, to the immortal glory of His name, 
 the prosperity of the whole nation, and the eternal 
 welfare of her soul and body. For my most miserable 
 and with all tears to be jritied country, I pray the 
 light of truth, whereby the darkness of ignorance 
 being dispelled, it may learn in and above all things 
 
xxx MEMOIR OF THE 
 
 to praise God, and seek its eternal good in the right 
 way. And since I perceive that I am not permitted 
 to speak at greater length, I deliver my soul into 
 the hands of God my Creator, earnestly beseeching 
 Him that* He may preserve and strengthen it with 
 His grace, and grant it to continue faithful in this 
 final conflict. For what may he done to my body I 
 have no care. But since death, in the admitted 
 cause for which I die, cannot he otherwise than most 
 happy and desirable, I pray the God of all comfort 
 that it may be to me the complete cleansing of my 
 sins and a real solace and increase of faith and con- 
 stancy to others. For I die because I am a Catholic 
 priest, elected into the Society of Jesus in my youth ; 
 nor has any other thing, during the last three years 
 in which I have been imprisoned, been charged 
 against me. This death, therefore, although it mav 
 now seem base and ignominious, can to no rightly- 
 thinking person appear doubtful but that it is beyond 
 measure an eternal weight of glory to be wrought in 
 us, who look not to the things which are visible, but 
 to those which are unseen." 
 
 This speech, firmly delivered, moved the audience 
 to much commiseration, notwithstanding the inter- 
 ruptions of some of the teachers of 1'rotostant opinions 
 among them, whom Southwell rebuked. " What- 
 ever," said he, pointing to them, " these men may 
 say or do, 1 live and die a Catholic: this, you who 
 
REV. ROBERT SOUTHWELL. xxxi 
 
 are Catholics here, I take to witness." Then recol- 
 lecting himself, he prepared for his approaching end, 
 frequently ejaculating, " Holy Mary, Mother of God, 
 and all saints pray for me ; " and, signing himself 
 with the cross, " Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend 
 my spirit ; thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of 
 truth, my God and all ; God be merciful to me a sin- 
 ner," &c. At length, the horses being started and 
 the car removed from under his feet, he continued 
 to beat his breast and make the sign of the cross, 
 until the executioner, who had so awkwardly applied 
 the noose as to prevent his speedy strangulation, 
 pulled him by the legs to ease his agony. The 
 martyr's behaviour had such an effect on the specta- 
 tors, that when, in terms of his sentence, the exe- 
 cutioner wished to cut him down alive, neither they 
 nor the magistrate who superintended the judicial 
 murder would permit him to do so. ^Vhen he was 
 dead, his countenance exhibited no change, neither 
 did the halter leave its ordinary marks of discolora- 
 tion ; and when his body was partitioned, the heart 
 leaped from the dissector's hand, and, by its throb- 
 bing, seemed to repel the flames, as if expressing 
 with the Psalmist, " My heart and my flesh shall 
 exult in the living God." Lord Mountjoy* who 
 happened to be present, was so struck by the mar- 
 
 * Charles Blount, 8th Baron Mountjoy. 
 
xxxii MEMOIR OF THE 
 
 tyr's constancy, that he exclaimed. " May my soul he 
 with this man's!" and he assisted in restraining 
 
 those who would have cut the rope while he was still 
 in life. 
 
 Such, at the age of thirty-three, was the end of 
 this excellent soldier of the cross, and most devoted 
 member of the Society of Jesus ; the victim of a bar- 
 barous law, vainly devised to destroy what is inde- 
 structible — the work of God. In blood the Church 
 was planted ; with blood it has been watered : and 
 its fecundity has ever been the greater in proportion 
 to the efforts made to eradicate it. The seed sown 
 by persecution in the three last centuries, begins in 
 the present to bring forth fruit an hundred fold. 
 
 After Southwell's death, one of his sisters, a Ca- 
 tholic in heart, but timidly and blameably simulating 
 heresy, wrought, with some relumes of the martyr, 
 several cures on persons afflicted with desperate and 
 deadly diseases, which had baffled the skill of all 
 physicians.* Thus God. in his usual manner, honours 
 his saints. 
 
 Of Father Southwell no authentic portrait, so far 
 as I know, is in existence. Lord Viscount Southwell 
 possesses an original manuscript, but it merely eon- 
 tains a translation into Italian of the rules of the 
 society, some short prayers in Latin, and a summary 
 
 • Tanner, Soc Jesu Martyr, p. 37. 
 
REV. ROBERT SOUTHWELL, xxxiii 
 
 of those virtues which he seems to have practised 
 on stated days. For this information I am indebted 
 to the obliging attention of the Eev. William Water- 
 worth, S. J. 
 
 By favour of the Et. Hon. Sir George Grey, I 
 have had access to the documents in the State Paper 
 Office, whereby I am enabled to subjoin Nos. III. 
 and IV. of the Appendix. From the gentlemen con- 
 nected with that department of the public service I 
 have experienced every courtesy.* 
 
 The first who in recent times reintroduced to no- 
 tice those poems of Southwell, which, with his other 
 writings, were, at an earlier date, so popular, t was 
 Mr. Francis Godolphin Waldron, an actor at Drury 
 Lane in the time of Garrick,r who, in 1783, in an 
 appendix to his edition of Ben Jonson's " Sad Shep- 
 herd," gave a few specimens of them. These were 
 subsequently included in Mr. Headley's " Select 
 Beauties of English Poetry," published in the same 
 year. Since then they have formed the subject of 
 
 * The Books of the Privy Council, from 26th Aug. 1593 
 to 9th March 1595, were unfortunately consumed by fire 
 in 1613. In the volume which intervenes from the time of 
 Southwell's arrest to the former date, no notice of him 
 occurs. 
 
 f Father Henry More says of them, " hodie cum volup- 
 tate teruntur." 
 
 X Nichols' Literary Anecdotes, viii. 136. 
 c 
 
xxxi? MEMOIR OF THE 
 
 Mr. Park, in the Gentleman's Maga- 
 N •• ember. 1798, by Mr. Haslewood in the 
 Censura Literaria. II. »'»4. and in * 
 Review, IV. 267. Thai they met with due appre- 
 ciation by our ances - >nly by the 
 numerous editions through which : ssed, but 
 by then _ _ t, in a marked manner, by 
 Dr. Hall, the protestant bis - ieh, in the 
 8th Satire of the First Book oi hi- " Yirgidemia- 
 rum." first printed in 1597, - after their 
 author's martyrdom, when presuming to ridicule the 
 etry of his time, he says : — 
 
 u Paraa— :s is transfS rm'd to Si n-Hill, 
 And Jewry-palms her steep ascents dc«on fill. 
 >*•••■ g I St. Petei ps pure He". 
 And bnzth the Marys make a music-n. 
 
 Ed. Singer, p. 21. 
 
 But Dr. Hall's antagonist, the mordan: M 
 ges the is I these 1 - : — 
 
 I me dance, ye stumbli: _ - -ide, 
 
 If he list once the Sion muse deride. 
 Y Gi - n :.ite nymphs come, and with you bring, 
 
 Some syllabub, whilst he d 
 ; Gai: -. and Mary's g . >an, 
 
 . '.ike a fierce enr. _ 
 A: a :•• I - "■ 
 
 Certain Satire*. ~W. 
 
 - ■ 
 
 Father Sou 
 
REV. ROBERT SOUTHWELL, xxxv 
 
 the authorities for most, as no bibliographer, perhaps, 
 can say that he has seen them all. 
 
 A Consolation for Catholics imprisoned on account 
 of Eeligion. Printed at St. Omer's. Xo date. 
 (Dodd's Church History.) This is probably iden- 
 tical with An Epistle of Comfort to the Eev. Priests, 
 and to the Honourable, Worshipful, and others of the 
 Lay Sort, restrained in Durance for the Catholic 
 Faith. Printed with Licence. 1605. Xo place. 
 
 A Supplication to Queen Elizabeth. London, 
 1593. (Dodd.) Query, May this not be the pe- 
 tition by his father, noticed in the Memoir, swpra, 
 p. xxvi? 
 
 Saint Peter's Complaint, with other Poems. Im- 
 printed by J. Wolfe. London, 1595, 4to. A copy 
 of this is in the library of Jesus College, Oxford. 
 
 The same. Imprinted by James Roberts for 
 Gabriel Cawood. London, 1595. 
 
 The same. London and St. Omer's, 1597, (Dodd.) 
 
 The same. Imprinted by J[ames] R[obertsJ for 
 Gr[abriel] C[awood]. London, 1599. 
 
 The same, newly augmented with other Poems. 
 Imprinted by H. L. for W. Leake. London. Xo 
 date. 
 
 The same, newly augmented, &c. Printed by 
 W. Stainsby for W. Barret. London, 1615. 
 
 The same, with St. Mary Magdalen's funerall 
 Teares, and sundry other selected and devout Poemes, 
 
xxxvi MEMOIR OF THE 
 
 by the 11. Father Robert Southwell, Priest of the So- 
 ciety of Jesus. Permissu Superiorum. St. Omers. 
 or Douay, 1620. This has annexed to it " The 
 
 Christian's Manna." a poem not in any other edition. 
 But Mr. Park considers it " has no legitimate claim 
 to be considered as bis production.'' On this point 
 I am neither able myself to form an opinion, nor give 
 others an opportunity for doing so ; since, in spite <>f 
 every effort, I have been unable to find a copy of the 
 edition.* 
 
 The same, with the Triumphs over Death, and 
 short rules of good Life. Printed for W. Barret 
 and J. Haviland. London, 1620, 1630, L634. 
 Barret dedicates his editions 
 
 " To the Iligbt Honourable Richard,f Hail 
 of Dorset, &C. 
 
 '• My Lord. — The entertainment which this work 
 in the several parts thereof hath formerly found with 
 inon of exact judgment, may be a sufficient testi- 
 
 * Ritson, Bib. I'm. t. 341, note. 
 
 t Richard Sackville, 3rd Marl of Dorset, second son <>f 
 Robert, 2nd Earl, by his first wife, Margaret, only daugh- 
 ter of Thomas Howard, 4th Duke of Norfolk of that name. 
 Ii was on the occasion of her death thai Southwell com- 
 posed lii> " Triumphs over Death," dedicated, by tlw pub- 
 lisher, " t<> the Worshipful Mr. Richard Sacki ille, Edward 
 Sackville, Cecil} Sackville, and Anne Sackville, the hope- 
 ful issues of ill-- honourable gentleman Blaster Robert 
 
RET. ROBERT SOUTHWELL, xxxvii 
 
 mony. that it is not (now) offered unto your Lord- 
 ship, for that it stand- in need of protection (the usual 
 apology of every trivial pamphleteer) much less to 
 emendicate any other's suffrages, beyond the known 
 worth thereof: the only reason of this present bold- 
 ness, and my excuse for thus presuming to recom- 
 mend it to your honourable hands, being, that as the 
 Author thereof had long since dedicated some pieces 
 
 Saekville, Esquire. — *' the " particular branches of that 
 noble stock' 3 referred to above, in the following lines : — 
 
 ■• Most lines do not the best conceits contain. 
 
 Few words, well couclrd, may comprehend much 
 matter : 
 Then as to use the first is counted vain. 
 
 So is't praise-worthy to conceit the latter. 
 The gravest wits that must grave works expect, 
 The quality, not quantity, respect. 
 
 The smallest spark will cast a burning heat, 
 Base cottages may harbour things of worth : 
 
 Then, though this volume be nor gay nor great, 
 Which under your protection I set forth. 
 
 Do not, with coy. disdainful oversight. 
 
 Deny to read this well-meant orphan's mire. 
 
 And since his father in his infancy. 
 
 Provided patrons to protect his heir, 
 But now, by Death's none-sparing cruelty, 
 
 Is tnrn'd an orphan to the open air: 
 I, his unworthy foster-sire, have dar'd 
 To make you patronizers of this ward. 
 
xxxviii MEMOIR OF THE 
 
 of the whole to sundry particular branches of that 
 noble stock and family whereof your Lordship is, 
 
 (and long may you be a strong and flourishing arm !) 
 so now myself having first collected these dismem- 
 bered pamphlets into one body, and published them in 
 an entire edition, I held it a kind of sacrilege to de- 
 
 You, glorying issues of that glorious dame, 
 Whose life is made the subject of Death's will, 
 
 To you, succeeding hopes of mother's tame, 
 I dedicate this fruit of Southwell's (pull. 
 
 He for your uncle's* comfort fir.-t it writ, 
 
 I, for your consolation, print and send }ou it. 
 
 Then deign in kindness to accept the work, 
 "Which he in kindness writ, I send to you ; 
 
 The which, till now, clouded, obscure did lurk, 
 But now, opposed to each reader's view. 
 
 May yield commodious fruit to every wight, 
 
 That feels his conscience prick'd by Pane's spite. 
 
 But if in aught I have presumptuous been, 
 
 My pardon-craving pen implores your favour: 
 
 If any fault in print be pass'd unseen, 
 To let it pass the printer is the craver. 
 
 So shall he thank you, and I, by duty bound, 
 
 Bray that in you may all good gifts abound* 
 
 S. W. 
 
 Waldron supposed these verses to have been composed 
 
 by Southwell, and the initials to denote their author's 
 
 name,— South-Well. 
 
 * Thomas Howard, afterwards Earl of Suffolk. 
 
REV. ROBERT SOUTHWELL, xxxix 
 
 fraud your noble name of the right which you may 
 so justly challenge thereunto, which by the sunshine 
 of your favour shall be as it were re-animated, and 
 he encouraged to further endeavours, who in the 
 meantime is 
 
 At your Lordship's service, 
 
 W. Barret." 
 
 The same. Printed by John Wreittoun. Edin- 
 burgh, 1634. A unique copy of this edition, un- 
 known to bibliographers, which had formerly been 
 in the possession of Mr. George Chalmers, was pur- 
 chased by Mr. J. R. Smith, at Sotheby's in June 
 last, for <£3, 5s. It is in quarto, unpaged, Sig. A 2, 
 E 2, and consists of Title, To the Eeader, St. Peter's 
 Complaint, and the small poem " Content and Rich." 
 
 The same, and other Poems. Printed by Robert 
 "Waldegrave. Edinburgh, 1660. 4to. 
 
 The same, and other Poems, reprinted from the 
 edition of 1595, with important additions from an 
 original manuscript, and a sketch of the Author's 
 life, by Mr. W. J.Walter. Longman, London, 1817. 
 12mo. Of this, fifty copies are on large paper. 
 
 Mseoniae ; or certaine excellent Poems and Spiri- 
 tual! Hymnes, omitted in the last impression of Pe- 
 ter's Complaint ; being needeful thereunto to be an- 
 nexed, as being both divine and wittie. All com- 
 posed by R. S. Imprinted by Valentine Sims for 
 
xl MEMOIR OF THE 
 
 J. Busbie. London. L595. The " Poems on the 
 Mystery of Christ's Life." London, L595, men- 
 tioned by Dodd, are probably the same as Maeonise. 
 
 The same. London, 1596. (Herbert, Typogr. 
 Antiquities.) 
 
 The same. London, 1597. (Wood, Athena: 
 Oxonienses.) 
 
 The Triumphs over Death ; or, a Consolatorie 
 Epistle for afflicted Minds, in the Affects of dying 
 Friends. First written for the Consolation of one, 
 but now published for the General] Good of all. by 
 R. S. Imprinted by V. Simmes for J. Busbie. 
 London, 1595. (Herbert, Typogr. Antiq.) 1596. 
 See notice of this work, supra. 
 
 Knles of a good Life ; with a Letter to his Father. 
 St. Omers and Douay. Xo date. (Dodd.) These 
 " Short Rules" are dedicated " To my dear affected 
 friend M. D. S. Gentleman/' whom a manuscript 
 note on the edition of 1634, now before me. explains 
 as " Mr. Dubers SneU of Buckingham." 
 
 .Marie Magdalen's funeral] Teares. Printed for 
 W.Leake. London. L609. 
 
 The same. Douay. No date. (Dodd.) 
 
 The same. With Borne Alterations to make it read 
 easy, by the Rev. W. Tooke. (Some of Dr. Watts' 
 short poems are annexed.) London, 177l\ 
 
 The same. Reprinted by Baldwyn. London, 
 1 823. Square L2mo. 
 
REV. ROBERT SOUTHWELL. xli 
 
 The same. Included in the Prose Works, edited 
 by W. J. Walter. London, 1828. 12mo. 
 
 Two epistles in the work of Didacus Yepes, Bishop 
 of Tarrazona, De Persecutione Anglise, Lib. 5, c. 6. 
 Printed both by Dr. Chaloner and Mr. Walter, and 
 reprinted swpra. 
 
 In the Bodleian Library is " E. Southwell's Epis- 
 tle to his Father," printed by Mr. Walter, and like- 
 wise reprinted in the present edition. Ko. I. of 
 Appendix. 
 
 A Letter to his Brother, from the manuscript then 
 in possession of Mr. Heber, was printed by Mr. Wal- 
 ter' in his edition of St. Peter's Complaint, and is 
 here reprinted. jSo. II. of Appendix. 
 
 According to Father John Gerard, his intimate 
 friend, Southwell's works were originally printed in 
 his own house in London. " P. Southwellus qui in 
 modo juvandi et lucrandi animos excelluit, totus pru- 
 dens et pius, mansuetus etiam et amabilis .... in 
 d6mo sua Londini Prelum habuit ad imprimendos 
 libros suos, quos quidem edidit egregios." For this 
 information, extracted from the manuscript auto- 
 biography of F. Gerard, we are indebted to the Very 
 Reverend Dr. Oliver, Provost of the Diocese of Ply- 
 mouth. See his communication to the Catholic 
 Magazine for September, 1832. 
 
 A Manuscript by Southwell, hitherto imprinted, is 
 in the possession of my friend Mr. Charles Dolman 
 
xlii MEMOIR OF SOUTHWELL. 
 
 of 61, New Bond Street. It is entitled " The Hun- 
 dred Meditations of the Love of God," and is prefaced 
 by a letter " To the Eight IIon ble and virtuous Lady 
 the Lady Beauchamp." This was Honors, daugh- 
 ter of Sir Richard Rogers of Brianston, co. Dorset, 
 Rnt. who married Edward Lord Beauchamp, eldest 
 surviving son of Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford, 
 eldest son and heir of Edward, 1st Duke of Somer- 
 set. I hope some day to have the pleasure of seeing 
 through the press this beautiful volume, as well as 
 the other prose writings of the martyr. 
 
 A. M. D. G. 
 
xliii 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Xo. I. 
 
 To the worshipful his very good father Mr. R. S. 
 his dutiful son R. S. ivisheth all happiness. 
 
 IN children of former ages it hath been thought 
 so behoveful a point of duty to their parents, in 
 presence by serviceable offices, in absence by other 
 effectual significations, to yield proof of their thankful 
 minds, that neither any child could omit it without 
 touch of ungratefulness, nor the parents forbear it 
 without nice displeasure. But now we are fallen 
 into sore calamity of times, and the violence of 
 heresy hath so crossed this course both of virtue and 
 nature, that these ingrafted laws, never infringed 
 by the most savage and brute creatures, cannot of 
 God's people without peril be observed, I am not 
 of so unnatural a kind, of so wild an education, or 
 so unchristian a spirit, as not to remember the root 
 out of which I branched, or to forget my secondary 
 maker and author of my being. It is not the care- 
 lessness of a cold affection, nor the want of a due and 
 reverent respect that has made me such a stranger 
 to my native home, and so backward in defraying 
 
xliv APPEXDIX. 
 
 the debt of a thankful mind, but only the iniquity of 
 these days, that maketh my presence perilous, and 
 the discharge of my duties an occasion of danger. 
 J was Joth to inforce an unwilling courtesy upon 
 any, or, by seeming officious, to become offensive . 
 deeming it better to let time digest the fear that my 
 return into the realm had bred in my kindred, than 
 abruptly to intrude myself, and to purchase their 
 danger, whose good will I so highly esteem. T 
 never doubted but that the belief, which to all un- 
 friends by descent and pedigree is, in a manner, 
 hereditary, framed in them a right persuasion of my 
 present calling, not suffering them to measure their 
 censures of me by the ugly terms and odious epithets 
 wherewith heresy hath sought to discredit my func- 
 tions, but rather by the reverence of SO worthy a 
 sacrament, and the sacred usages of all former ages. 
 Yet, because I might easily perceive by apparent 
 conjectures, that many were more willing to hear of 
 me than from me, and readier to praise than to use 
 my endeavours, 1 have hitherto bridled my desire to 
 see them by the care and jealousy of their safety ; 
 and banishing myself from the scene of my cradle 
 in my own country, 1 have lived like a foreigner, 
 finding among strangers that which, in my nearest 
 blood. I presumed nottoseek. Bui dow, considering 
 that delay may have qualified fear, and knowing my 
 person only to import danger to others, and my 
 
APPENDIX. xlv 
 
 persuasion to none but to myself, I thought it high 
 time to utter my sincere and dutiful mind, and to 
 open a vent to my zealous affection, which I have so 
 long smothered and suppressed in silence. For not 
 only the original law of nature written in all chil- 
 dren's hearts, and derived from the breast of their 
 mother, is a continual solicitude urging me in your 
 behalf, but the sovereign decree enacted by the 
 Father of heaven, ratified by his Son, and daily 
 repeated by the instinct of the Holy Ghost, bindeth 
 every child in the due of Christianity to tender the 
 state and welfare of his parents, and is a motive that 
 alloweth no excuse, but of necesgity presseth to per- 
 formance of duty. Nature by grace is not abolished, 
 nor destroyed, but perfected ; neither are the im- 
 pressions razed or annulled, but suited to the ends 
 of grace and nature. And if its affections be so 
 forcible, that even in hell, where rancour and despite, 
 and all feelings of goodness are overwhelmed by 
 malice, they moved the rich glutton, by experience 
 of his own misery, to have compassion of his kindred, 
 how much more in the Church of God, where grace 
 quickeneth, charity inflameth, and nature's good 
 inclinations are abetted by supernatural gifts, ought 
 the like piety to prevail. And, who but those more 
 merciless than damned creatures, would see their 
 dearest friends plunged in the like perils, and not be 
 wounded by deep remorse at their lamentable and 
 
xlvi APPENDIX. 
 
 imminent hazard '? If in beholding a mortal enemy 
 wrought and tortured with deadly pains, the strongest 
 heart softeneth with some Borrows ; if the most frozen 
 and fierce mind cannot hut thaw and melt with pity 
 even when it knows such person to suffer his deserved 
 torments ; hew much less can the heart of a child 
 consider those that bred him into this world, to be in 
 the fall to far more bitter extremities, and not bleed 
 with grief at their uncomfortable case. Surely, for 
 mine own part, though I challenge not the preroga- 
 tive of the best disposition, yet am I not of so harsh 
 and churlish a humour, but that it i^ a continual 
 corrective and cross unto me. that, whereas my en- 
 deavours have reclaimed many from the brink of 
 perdition, I have been less able to employ them, 
 where they were most due ; and was barred from 
 affording to my dearest friends that which hath been 
 eagerly sought and beneficially obtained by mere 
 strangers. Who bath more interest in the grape 
 than he who planted the vine? who more light to 
 the crop than he who sowed the corn ? or where ean 
 the child owe so great service a- to him to whom he 
 is indebted for bis very lite ami being? With young 
 Tobias I have travelled far, and brOUghl home a 
 freight of spiritual substance to enrich you, and 
 
 medicinable receipts against your ghostly maladies. 
 I have, with Esau, after long toil in pursuing a long 
 and painful ehaee, returned with the full prey, you 
 
APPENDIX. xlvii 
 
 * 
 were wont to love ; desiring thereby to insure your 
 
 blessing. I have in this general famine of all true 
 and Christian food, with Joseph, prepared abundance 
 of the bread of angels for the repast of your soul. 
 And now my desire is that my drugs may cure you, 
 my prey delight you, and my provision feed you, by 
 whom I have been cured, enlightened, and fed myself; 
 that your courtesies may, in part, be countervailed, 
 and my duty, in some sort, performed. Despise 
 not, good Sire, the youth of your son, neither deem 
 your God measureth his endowments by number of 
 years. Hoary senses are often couched under youthful 
 locks, and some are riper in the spring, than others 
 in the autumn of their age. God chose not Esau 
 himself, nor his eldest son, but young David to con- 
 quer Goliah and to ride his people : not the most 
 aged person, but Daniel, the most innocent youth, 
 delivered Susannah from the iniquity of the judges. 
 Christ, at twelve years of age, was found in the 
 temple questioning with the greatest doctors. A 
 true Elias can conceive, that a little cloud may cast 
 a large and abundant shower ; and the scripture 
 teacheth us, that God unveileth to little ones that 
 which He concealeth from the wisest sages. His 
 truth is not abashed by the minority of the speaker : 
 for out of the mouths of infants and sucklings He 
 can perfect His praises. Timothy was young, and 
 yet a principal pastor : St. John, a youth, and yet 
 
xlviii APPENDIX. 
 
 an apostle ; yea, and the angels by appearing in 
 youthful semblance, gave us a proof that many glo- 
 rious gifts may be shrouded under tender shapes. 
 All this, I say, not to claim any privileges un- 
 mounting the rate of usual abilities, but to avoid all 
 touch of presumption in advising my elders ; seeing 
 that it hath the warrant of scripture, the testimony 
 of example, and sufficient grounds both in grace and 
 nature. There is a diversity in the degrees of carnal 
 consanguinity; and the pre-eminence appertaineth 
 unto you, as superior over your child: yel if you 
 consider our alliance in the chief portion, 1 mean 
 the soul, which difference!!) man from inferior crea- 
 ture-, we are of equal proximity to our heavenly 
 Father, both descended from the same parent, and 
 with no other distance in our degrees, but tl 
 are the eldest brother. Seeing, therefore, that your 
 superiority is founded on flesh and Mood, think it. 1 
 pray you. no dishonour to your age, nor disparage- 
 ment to your person, if, with all humility. T offer 
 my advice unto you. One man cannot be perfect in 
 all qualities, neither is it a disgrace to the goldsmith 
 if he be ignorant of the carpenter's trade : many are 
 deep lawyers, and yet small divines: many very clever 
 in feats of body, and curious in external accomplish- 
 ments, yet little experienced in matters of mind. 
 For these many years I have studied and practised 
 spiritual medicine, acquainting myself with the heat- 
 
APPENDIX. xlix 
 
 ing and temper of every pulse, and travailing in the 
 cure of maladies incident to souls. If, therefore, I 
 proffer you the fruit of my long studies, and make 
 you a present of my profession, I hope you will 
 construe it rather as a dutiful part, than as any point 
 of presumption. He may be a father to the soul 
 that is a son to the body, and requite the benefit of 
 his temporal life by reviving his parent from a spi- 
 ritual death. And to this effect did Christ say, My 
 mother and brethren are they that do the will of my 
 Father which is in heaven : upon which words St. 
 Climacus shows on what kindred a Christian ought 
 chiefly to rely. " Let him," he says, " be thy Father, 
 that both can and will disburthen thee of the weight 
 of thy sins." Such a father as this Saint spcaketh 
 of, may you have in your own son, to enter your 
 family in the pre-recited affinity ; of which happily 
 it was a significant presage, a boding of the future 
 event, that, even from my infancy, you were wont, 
 in merriment, to call me your father : now this is 
 the customary style allotted to my present estate.* 
 Now, therefore, to join issue and to come to the 
 principal drift of my discourse: most humbly and 
 earnestly I am to beseech you, that, both in respect 
 of the honour of God, your duty to His Church, the 
 comfort of your children, and the redress of your 
 
 * Being a Father of the Society of Jesus, 
 d 
 
1 APPENDIX. 
 
 own soul, you would seriously consider the term- you 
 stand in, and weigh yourself in a Christian balance, 
 taking for your counterpoise the judgments of God. 
 Take heed in time, that the word Thekel, written 
 of old against Balthazar and interpreted by young 
 Daniel, be not verified in you ; remember the expo- 
 sition, "you have been weighed in the balance and 
 found wanting." Remember that you are in the 
 balance, that the date of your pilgrimage is well 
 nigh expired, and that it now behoveth you to look 
 forward to your country. Your strength languisheth, 
 your senses become impaired, and your body droop- 
 eth, and on every side the ruinous cottage of your 
 faint and feeble flesh threateneth a fall. Having so 
 many harbingers of death, to pre-admonish you of 
 your end, how can you but prepare for so dreadful a 
 stranger. The young may die quickly, but the old 
 cannot live long. The young man's life by casualty 
 may be abridged, but the old man's life can by no 
 physic be long augmented. And. therefore, if green 
 years must sometimes think of the grave, the thoughts 
 of sere age should continually dwell on the same. 
 The prerogative of infancy is innooency : <>( child- 
 hood, reverence; of manliood maturity, and of age 
 wisdom ; and seeing that the chief property of wis- 
 dom is to be mindful of things past, careful of things 
 present, and provident of things to come, use now 
 the privilege of nature's talent to the benefit of your 
 
APPENDIX. li 
 
 soul, and strive hereafter to bo wise in well-doing, 
 and watchful in foresight of future harms. To serve 
 the world you are now unable, and. though you were 
 able, you have little wish to do so. seeing that it 
 never gave you but an unhappy welcome, a hurtful 
 entertainment, and now doth abandon you with an 
 unfortunate farewell. You have long sowed in a 
 field of flint which could brine: vou nothine: forth but 
 a crop of cares and afflictions of spirit, rewarding 
 your labours with remorse, and for your pains repay- 
 ing vou with eternal damages. It is now more than 
 a seasonable time to alter your course of so tin- 
 thriving a husbandry, and to enter into the fields of 
 God's Church ; in which, sowing the seed of repentant 
 sorrow, and watering it with the tears of humble 
 contrition, you may reap a more beneficial harvest, 
 and gather the fruit of everlasting consolation. Ee- 
 member. I pray you. that your spring is spent, and 
 your summer overpast ; you are now arrived at the 
 fall of the leaf, yea the winter-colours have already 
 stained your hoary head. 
 
 Be not careless, saith St. Augustine, though our 
 loving Lord bear long with offenders ; for the longer 
 He stayeth without finding amendment, the sorer 
 will He punish when He cometh to judgment; His 
 patience, in so long expecting, is only to lend us 
 respite to repent., not any way to enlarge our leisure 
 to sin. He that is tossed with variety of storms, 
 
lii APPENDIX. 
 
 and cannot reach his destined port, makcth not much 
 way, but is sore turmoiled ; so he that passetfa many 
 years and purchaseth little profit, hath had a long 
 being, but a short life : for life is more to be measured 
 by merit than by number of days, seeing that most 
 men by many days do but procure many deaths, 
 while others in short space attain a life of infinite 
 ages. What is the body without the soul, but a 
 mass of corruption; and what the BOul without God 
 hut a sepulchre of sin ? If God be the way, the truth 
 and the life, he that goeth without Him, strayeth, 
 he that liveth without Him dieth. and he that is not 
 taught by Him erreth. Well saith St. Augustine, 
 that God is our true and chief life, from whom to 
 revolt is to fall, and to return is to rise. "Be not 
 you, therefore, of the number of those who begin 
 not to live until they be ready to die, and then after 
 a foe's desert, come to crave of God a friend's enter- 
 tainment. Some think to share heaven in a moment, 
 which the best scarce attain in the godliness of many 
 years ; and when they have glutted themselves with 
 worldly delights, they would fain pass at once from 
 the diet of Dives to the crown of Lazarus, and from 
 the servitude of Satan to the freedom of the Saints. 
 But be yen well assured, God is oof bo penurious of 
 friends as to hold Himself and His kingdom for the 
 refuse and reversion of their lives, who have sacrificed 
 the principal thereof to His enemies and their own 
 
APPENDIX. liii 
 
 brutal appetites ; then only ceasing to offend, when 
 the ability of offending is taken from them. True 
 it is that a thief may be saved upon the cross and find 
 mercy at the last gasp, but well, saith St. Augustine, 
 that though it be possible, yet is it scarce credible, 
 that his death should find favour whose whole life 
 hath deserved wrath ; and that his repentance should 
 be accepted, which more through fear of hell and 
 love of himself than love of God, or hatred of sin, 
 crieth for mercy. Wherefore, good Sire, make no 
 longer delay, but being so near the breaking up of 
 your mortal house, take time, before straitened by 
 extremity, to satisfy God's justice. Though you 
 suffered the bud to be blasted, and the flower to fade ; 
 though you permitted the fruit to perish and the 
 leaves to wither away; yea, though you let the 
 boughs decay, and the very trunk corrupt, yet, alas ! 
 keep life in the root for fear the whole become fuel 
 for the fire. Death hath already spoiled you of the 
 better part of your natural force, and hath left you 
 now to the last lease of your expiring days ; the 
 remainder whereof, as it cannot be long, so doth it 
 warn you speedily to ransom your former losses. 
 What is age but a kalendar of death, and what doth 
 your present weakness import, but an earnest of your 
 approaching dissolution? You are now embarked 
 on your final voyage, and not far off from the stinted 
 period of your course, therefore, be not dispurveyed 
 
liv APPESDIX. 
 
 of such proper provisions as are behoveful in so 
 perplexed and perilous a journey. Death in itself 
 is very fearful, but much more terrible in regard of 
 the judgment that it summoneth us unto. If you 
 were stretched on your departing bed, burthened 
 with the heavy load of your former trespasses and 
 gored with the sting of a festered conscience ; if you 
 felt the hand of Death grasping jour hearts-strings 
 and ready to make the rueful divorce between body 
 and soul ; if you lay panting for breath and bathed 
 in a cold and fatal sweat, wearied with struggling 
 
 BO O 
 
 against the pangs of death, oh, how much would you 
 give for one hour for repentance, at what a rate 
 would you value one day's contrition ! Worlds would 
 then be worthless in respect of a little respite ; a short 
 time would seem more precious than the treasures 
 of empires. Nothing would be so much esteemed 
 as a moment of time, which is now by months and 
 years so lavishly mispent. Oh ! how deeply would 
 it wound your heart, when looking back into yourself, 
 you consider many faults committed and not con- 
 fessed, many good works omitted or not recovered, 
 your service to God promised but never performed. 
 How intolerable will he your case ! your friends are 
 fled, your servants frightened, your thought- amazed. 
 your memory distracted, your whole mind aghast 
 and unable to perform what it would, only your guilty 
 conscience will continually upbraid you with most 
 
APPENDIX. lv 
 
 bitter accusations. What will be your thoughts, 
 when, stripped of your mortal body, and turned both 
 out of the service and house-room of this world, you 
 are forced to enter into uncouth and strange paths, 
 and with unknown and ugly company to be carried 
 before a most severe judge, carrying in your own con- 
 science your judgment written, and a perfect register 
 of all your misdeeds ; when you shall see Him pre- 
 pared to pass the sentence upon you, against whom 
 you have transgressed ; he is to be the umpire, whom 
 by so many offences you have made your enemy ; 
 when not only the devils, but even the angels will 
 plead against you, and yourself, in spite of your will, 
 be your own sharpest impeacher. What would you 
 do in these dreadful exigencies, when you saw the 
 ghastly dungeon and huge gulf of hell breaking out 
 with most fearful flames ? when you heard the weep- 
 ing and gnashing of teeth, the rage of those hellish 
 monsters, the horror of the place, the rigour of the 
 pain, the terror of the company, and the eternity of 
 the punishments ? Would you then think them wise 
 that would delay in such weighty matters, and idly 
 play away a time allotted to prevent such intolerable 
 calamities? Would you then account it secure to 
 nurse in your bosom a brood of serpents, or suffer 
 your soul to entertain so many accusers ? Would 
 not you, then, think a whole life too little to do 
 penance for so many iniquities ? Why then do you 
 
lvi APPEXDIX. 
 
 not, at least, devote the small remnant and surplus 
 of these your latter days in seeking to make an 
 atonement with God, and in freeing your conscience 
 from the corruption that, by your treason and fall, 
 has crept into it ; whose very eyes that read this 
 discourse, and very understanding that conceiveth it, 
 shall he cited as certain witnesses of what I describe. 
 Your soul will then experience the most terrible 
 fears, if you do not recover yourself into the fold and 
 family of God's Church. What have you gained by 
 being so long enslaved to the world ? What interest 
 have you reaped that can equal your detriment in 
 grace and virtue? You cannot be now inveigled 
 with the passions of youth to make a partial estimate 
 of things, and set no difference between counterfeit 
 and current, for they are now either worn out by the 
 touch of time, or foiling into reproof by the trial of 
 their own folly. It cannot be fear that leadeth you 
 amiss, seeing it were so unfitting a tiling that any 
 craven cowardice of flesh and blood should daunt the 
 prowess of an intelligent man, who, by his wisdom, 
 cannot but discern how much more cause there is to 
 fear God than man, and to stand in more awe of 
 perpetual than oftemporal penalties. An ungrounded 
 presumption on the mercy of God, and the hope of 
 Hi- assistance at the lasl plunge — the ordinary device 
 of the devil — is too palpable a collusion to mislead a 
 sound and sensible man. Who would trust eternal 
 
APPENDIX. lvii 
 
 affairs upon the gliding slipperiness and shifting 
 current of an uncertain life? or who, hut one of 
 distempered mind, would attempt to cheat the deci- 
 pherer of all thoughts, with whom we may dissemble, 
 but whom to deceive is impossible ? Shall we esteem 
 it cunning to rob the time from Him and bestow it 
 on His enemies, who keepeth account of the last 
 moment of life, and will examine in the end how 
 that moment hath been employed ? It is a prepos- 
 terous policy to attempt to fight against God. It 
 were a strange piece of art, and a device of exorbi- 
 tant folly, while the ship is sound, the pilot well, the 
 sailors strong, the gale favourable, to lie idle in the 
 roads ; yet when the ship leaked, the pilot lay sick, 
 the mariners faint, the storm boisterous, and the sea 
 in a tumult of outrageous surges, then to launch 
 forth, to hoist up sail, and to set out for a voyage 
 into far countries: yet such is the skill of those 
 cunning repenters, whose thoughts in soundness of 
 health, and in the perfect use of reason, cannot re- 
 solve to cut the cables and weigh the anchors that 
 withhold them from God. Xevertheless they feed 
 themselves with a fond presumption that, when their 
 senses are astounded, their minds distracted, their 
 understanding confused, and both their body and 
 mind racked and tormented with the throbs of a 
 mortal sickness, that then, forsooth, they will think 
 of the weightiest matters, and become sudden saints, 
 
lviii APPENDIX. 
 
 when they are scarce able to behave themselves like 
 reasonable creatures. If neither the canon, civil, nor 
 common law alloweth a man. punished in judgment, 
 to make any testament or bequest of his temporal 
 substance, being then presumed to be less than a 
 man ; how can he that is distracted with an unsettled 
 conscience, distrained with the fits of his dying flesh, 
 and maimed in all his faculties, be thought of such 
 due discretion as to dispose of his chiefest inheritance, 
 the treasure of his soul, and the concerns of a whole 
 eternity in so short and stormy a moment? No, 
 no : they that will loiter in the seed time, and only 
 begin to sow when others reap : they that will riot 
 out their health, and cast their accounts when they 
 can scarcely speak ; they that will slumber out the 
 day. and enter on their journey when the light faileth 
 them, let them blame their own folly if they die in 
 debt, and fall headlong into the lapse of endless 
 perdition. 
 
 O, dear Sire, remember that the scripture terms 
 it a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living 
 God, who is able to crush the proud spirit of the 
 obstinate, and t«> make lli> enemies the footstool of 
 His feet. Wrestle no longer againsl the struggles 
 of your own conscience, and the forcible admonitions 
 that God doth send you. Embrace 1 lis mercy before 
 the time of rigour, and return to His Church, lest 
 He debar you His kingdom. He cannot have Clod 
 
APPENDIX. lix 
 
 for his father that refuseth to possess the Catholic 
 Church for his mother ; neither can he attain to the 
 Church triumphant in heaven, who is not a member 
 of the Church militant upon earth. You have been, 
 alas ! too long an alien in the tabernacles of sinners, 
 and strayed too far from the folds of God's Church. 
 Turn now the bias of your heart towards the sanc- 
 tuary of salvation and the city of refuge, seeking the 
 recovery of your wandering steps from the paths of 
 error. Return with a swift force, and hasten with 
 jealous progress to Christian perfection ; redeeming 
 the time because the days are evil. The full of your 
 spring-tide is now fallen, and the stream of your life 
 waneth to a low ebb ; your tired bark beginneth to 
 leak, and grateth oft upon the gravel of the grave ; 
 therefore it is high time for you to strike sail and 
 put into harbour, lest, remaining in the scope of the 
 winds and waves of this wicked time, some unex- 
 pected gust should dash you upon the rock of eternal 
 ruin. Tender the pitiful state of your poor soul, 
 and henceforth be more fearful of hell than of per- 
 secution, and more eager of heaven than of worldly 
 repose. Had the pen that wrote this letter been 
 dipped in the wounds of the Saviour, and His pre- 
 cious blood been used instead of ink ; had one of 
 the highest seraphims come in the most solemn 
 embassy to deliver it unto you, do you not think 
 that it would have strained your heart, and wrought 
 
k APPENDIX. 
 
 upon your mind to fulfil the contents, .and alter your 
 course according to the tenor thereof? Doubtless 
 you will not deny it. Then, good Sire, let it now 
 take the same effect, seeing the difference has been 
 in the ceremonies and not in the substance; and 
 that very God, who should then have invited you to 
 your correction, saith of such as I am, though most 
 unworthy, He that heareth you, heareth Me; and 
 he that despiseih you, despiseth Me! I exhort you, 
 therefore, as the vicegerent of God, and I humbly 
 request you as a dutiful child that you would .sur- 
 render your assent, and yield your soul a happy 
 captive to God's merciful inspirations, proceeding 
 from an infinite love, and tending to your assmvd 
 good. I have expressed not only my own, but the 
 earnest desire of your other children, whose humble 
 wishes are here written with my pen. For it is a 
 general grief that tilleth all our hearts, whom it hath 
 pleased God to shroud under His merciful wing, to 
 see our dearest father, to whom both nature hath 
 bound and your merits fastened our affection, dis- 
 membered from the body to which we are united, to 
 be in hazard of a farther and more grievous separa- 
 tion. O, good Sire, shall bo many of your branches 
 enjoy the quickening sap of God's Church, and, 
 shooting up higher towards heaven, bring forth the 
 flowers and fruits of salvation ; and. you that are 
 the root of us, lie barren and fruition? Shall the 
 beams be bright, and the iun eclipsed? Shall the 
 
APPEXDIX. hi 
 
 brooks be clear, and the head-spring troubled? 
 Your lot hath no such affinity with the nature of a 
 phoenix that you should reap your offspring from 
 your own ruins ; you are not so tied in the straits 
 of the pelican as to revive your issue by murdering 
 yourself; neither we a generation of vipers that 
 cannot come to life but by our parent's destruction. 
 Yea. rather it is the thing we have elderly in request, 
 that we may be as near linked in spiritual, as we 
 are in natural consanguinity ; and. that living with 
 you in the compass of our Church, we may, to our 
 unspeakable comfort, enjoy in heaven your most 
 desired company. Blame me not. good Father, if 
 zeal of your recovery has carried me beyond the 
 limits of a letter. So important a truth cannot be 
 too much avowed, nor too many means used to draw 
 a soul out of the misery of schism. Howsoever, 
 therefore, the soft gales of your morning pleasures 
 lulled you in slumbers : howsoever the violent heat 
 of noon might awake affection.-, yet now in the cool 
 and calm of the evening retire to a Christian rest, 
 and close up the day of your life with a clear sun- 
 set ; that leaving all darkness behind you, and car- 
 rying in your conscience the light of grace, you mav 
 escape the horror of eternal night, and pass from 
 the day of mortality to the Sabbath of everlasting 
 rest : and humbly desiring that my sincere affection 
 may find excuse of my boldness. I here conclude. 
 
lxii APPENDIX. 
 
 II. 
 
 Letter written to his Brother. 
 
 UNDERSTANDING that you were resolved 
 upon a course which most nearly toucheth 
 the salvation of your soul, I received such content- 
 ment as a sincere and most faithful love feeleth in 
 the long desired happiness of bo dear a friend. But 
 hearing since, that you will dwell in danger and 
 linger in new delays, my hope- hang in suspense, 
 and my heart in grief, angry with the chains that 
 thus enthral you, and sorry to see you captive to 
 your own fears. Shrine not any longer a dead soul 
 iu a living body : bail reason out of senses' prison, 
 that after so long a bondage in sin, you may enjoy 
 your former liberty in God's Church, and free your. 
 thought from the servile awe of uncertain perils. ]f 
 all should take effect, that your timorous surmises 
 suggest, yet could not even tin- misery of your pre- 
 sent estate, with the loss of your patronage, and 
 keeping yon in this disfavour of God, have either 
 left you any greater benefit to lose, or any deeper 
 infelicity to incur. Weigh with yourself at how 
 
 easy a price you rate God, whom yon Mte content to 
 sell for the use of your substance, yea, and for the 
 preventing a loss which haply will never ensue. 
 Have you BO little need of llini, that you can 90 
 
APPENDIX. lxiii 
 
 long forbear Him ? or is He so worthless in jour 
 estimation that you will venture nothing for Him ? 
 Adjourn not, I pray you, a matter of such import- 
 ance. Remember that one sin begetteth another, 
 and when you yield to nurse daily tins venomous 
 brood in your breast, what can you look for, but, 
 that like vipers, they should compass your destruc- 
 tion. Custom soon groweth to a second nature, and 
 being once master of the mind, it can hardly be cast 
 out of possession. If to-day you find yourself faint, 
 fainter you are like to be to-morrow, if you languish 
 in the same distaste without cure, and suffer the 
 corrosive of sin to consume you without opposing its 
 violence. How can you flatter yourself with an 
 ungrounded hope of mercy, since to continue in it so 
 long, is the surest way to stop the fountain of it for 
 ever ? The more you offend God, the less you deserve 
 His favour ; and to be deaf when He calleth you, is 
 to close His ears against all cries in the time of your 
 necessity. If you mean to surrender your heart to 
 Him, why do you lend so much leisure to the devil 
 to strengthen his hold ; and why stop up the passages 
 with mire by which the pure waters of grace must 
 flow into your soul ? Look if you can upon a crucifix 
 without blushing ; do but count the five wounds of 
 Clu-ist once over without a bleeding conscience. Eead 
 your sins in those characters, and examine your 
 thoughts whether the sight do please them. Alas ! 
 
lxiv APPENDIX. 
 
 if that innocent hlood move you not, or if you can 
 find still in your heart to open afresh such undeserved 
 -wounds, 1 would I might send you the sacrifice of 
 my dearest veins, to try whether nature could awake 
 remorse, and prepare a way for grace's entrance. 
 Sorrow puts me to silence, and therefore, Brother, I 
 must end, desiring you to have pity on yourself, 
 •whose harms make so hitter an impression on Ager's 
 mind. God of His infinite goodness strengthen you 
 in all your good dcsignments. 
 
 III. 
 
 State Paper Office, Doxcaster. Xo. 190. 
 
 Endorsed : Mr. Topcliffe about Mr. 
 Bellamy, Septem. 1592. 
 
 IT may please yo r Lo. At my retorne out of the 
 cuntrie this night, 1 did heare y 1 Mr. Bellamyes 
 too dowghters are comitted to the gayt howse. But 
 the old hene that hatched these chickens (the worst 
 that ever was) is yett at a lodginge: Lett her he 
 sent to the prison there at the gayt howse. and se- 
 verd from her dowghters, and her Bpous Thomas 
 Bellamye comitted to S. Kaiheryns, And vow shall 
 heare prooved cause enough, and see it WOOrke a 
 struimdge example (hereaboutts). 
 
APPENDIX. Ixv 
 
 But ne r Younge nor other comyssyoner must 
 knowe that I do knowe the rest, or am a doer in this 
 devyce. Nor by my will other than his Lordship that 
 was w 1 yow when yow did conclnyde what should be 
 doone at grenwidge last. 
 
 Lett them feele a day or too imprisonment. And 
 then your Lo : shall sue me play the parti of a fcrew 
 man. w t charity in the end, to the honor of the start : 
 and so in hast at mydnight this fryday. 
 
 Y r Lo : at cumandement. 
 Ric : Topclyffe. 
 
 To the right honor, my Lorde 
 
 Sir John Puckering. Lorde 
 Keeper of the Great Seale 
 
 of Endande. 
 
 IT. 
 
 State Paper Office. Doncaster. Xo. 197. 
 
 Endorsed: The eaxdaiion of Mrs. Bd- 
 lamyt and her three children. 
 
 THEXAMIXATIOX of Katheryne Bellamye 
 wirYe of Bichard Bellamye ofharrowehiD taken 
 
 before me Bichard Yonge the xviij :n day of Julye 
 1594. 
 
 The said ex 1 saieth that she dothe goe to churehe, 
 e 
 
lxvi APPEXDIX. 
 
 and dothe heare dyvine service and sermon?. Imt she 
 saieth that she hath not receyved the commnnyon. 
 
 Itm. she saieth that -he bathe fcwoe Bonnes, one 
 ffaithe. and thother Thomas, and they due goe to 
 chnrche everye Son, lave. 
 
 Itm. she saieth that she hath twoe dawghters, one 
 called Awdrye, thothei -Mane, and they be in howse 
 w* her. but they doe not goe to chnrche. 
 
 Itm. she saieth that Mr. Willm. Page* her uncle 
 dothe lodire at her howse and dothe net eoe to 
 chnrche. 
 
 Thomas BeHamye off thage of 22 or 23 yeares 
 exaied saith that lie goeth to chnrche, and heareth 
 dyvyne service, and sermons al>oe. And althoughe 
 he did not receyve the comnnyoo the last Easter, 
 yet nowe he is wOIinge : he saith also that Mr. 
 Willm. Page lyeth at his Mather's, but goeth net to 
 chnrche. 
 
 Awdrye Wylford wydowe exaied saieth. that she 
 remayneth w* her mother Mrs. BeDamye, and beinge 
 asked whether >h<' goeth to Chnrch, answereth noe, 
 and saith that her conscience will net give her to gee 
 to chnrche, and (so Cut as she can remember) she 
 
 • Two members of the Page family, Antony and Fran- 
 mi the latter S.J. were executed; the 
 former in 1593, the latter in 1603. - I < .< Chaloner't Memoirs 
 woMuy Pi 
 
APPENDIX. Ixvii 
 
 was nev r at cliurcke in alle her lyfe tyme, and refus- 
 eth also nowe to goe, or to have conference. 
 
 Marye Bellamye of thage of 27 yeares exaied 
 saith, that she hath dwelt alwaies w* her Mother, 
 and hathe not been at church these 14 yeares ; And 
 being asked why ? saith that her conscience will not 
 suffer her, neither will she nowe goe to churche, or 
 yet admytte anye conference. 
 
 Endorsed : the exaiacon of Mrs. Bellamye 
 and her three children. 
 
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THE AUTHOR TO HIS LOVING COUSIN. 
 
 OETS, by abusing their talents, and 
 making the follies and feignings of 
 love the customary subject of their 
 base endeavours, have so discredited this 
 faculty, that a poet, a lover, and a liar, are by many 
 reckoned but three words of one signification. But 
 the vanity of men cannot counterpoise the authority 
 of God, who delivered many parts of Scripture in 
 verse, and, by his apostle willing us to exercise our 
 devotion in hymns and spiritual songs, warranteth 
 the art to be good and the use allowable. And 
 therefore not only among the heathens, whose Gods 
 were chiefly canonized by their poets, and their 
 paynim divinity oracled in verse ; but even in the 
 Old and New Testament it hath been used by men 
 of the greatest piety in matters of most devotion. 
 Christ himself, by making an hymn the conclusion of 
 his last supper, and the prologue to the first pageant 
 of his passion, gave his Spouse a method to imitate, 
 
 B 
 
 Mr 
 
2 THE AUTHOR, ETC. 
 
 as in the office of the Church it appeared] : and to 
 
 all men a pattern, to know the true use of this mea- 
 sured style. 
 
 But the devil, as he aflecteth deity and Beeketh 
 to have all the compliments of divine honour applied 
 to his service, so hath he among the rest possessed 
 also most Poets with his idle fancies. For in lieu 
 of solemn and devout matters, to which in duty 
 they owe their abilities, they now busy themselves 
 in expressing such passions as serve only for testi- 
 monies to what unworthy affections they have wedded 
 their wills. And. because the best course to let them 
 see the error of their works is to weave a new welt 
 in their own loom, I have here laid a few coarse 
 threads together to invite some skilfuller wits to go 
 forward in the same, or to begin Borne finer piece, 
 wherein it may be seen how well verse and virtue 
 suit together. 
 
 Blame me not, good Cousin, though I Bend you 
 a blame-worthy present, in which the most that can 
 be commended is the good will of the writer : neither 
 art nor invention giving ii any credit. If in me this 
 he ;i fault, you cannot be faultless that did impor- 
 tune me to commit it. and therefore you nui-t hear 
 part of the penance when it >hall please sharp cen- 
 
 Bures to impose it. In the mean time, with many 
 good wishes, 1 -end you these few ditties ; add you 
 the tunes, and let them, I pray you, be -till a pari 
 
 in all voiir music. 
 
TO THE KEADER. 
 
 EAR eye, that dost peruse my muses still , 
 "With easy censure deem of my delight ; 
 Give soh'rest count'nance leave some- 
 time to smile, 
 And gravest wits to take a breathing flight : 
 Of mirth to make a trade may be a crime, 
 But tired sprites for mirth must have a time. 
 
 The lofty eagle soars not still above, 
 
 High flights will force her from the wing to stoop ; 
 
 And studious thoughts at times men must remove. 
 
 Lest by excess before the time they droop : 
 
 In coarser studies 'tis a sweet repose, 
 
 With poets pleasing vein to temper prose. 
 
 Prophane conceits and feigned fits I fly ; 
 
 Such lawless stuff doth lawless speeches fit. 
 
 With David, verse to virtue I apply, 
 
 Whose measure best with measured words doth fit 
 
 It is the sweetest note that man can sino- 
 
 o 
 
 When grace in virtue's key tunes nature's string. 
 
RURSUS AD EUNDEM. 
 
 EAR eye, that deignest to let fall a look 
 On these sad memories of Peter's 
 
 plaints, [brook : 
 
 Muse not to see some mud in clearest 
 They once were brittle mould that now are saints. 
 Their weakness is no warrant to offend ; 
 Learn by their faults what in thine own to mend. 
 
 If Justice' even hand the balance held, 
 
 Where Peter's sins and ours were made the weights. — 
 
 Ounce for his drachm, pound for his ounce we yield, — 
 
 His ship would groan to feel some sinners' freights. 
 
 So ripe is vice, so green is virtue's bud, 
 
 The world doth wax in ill, but wane in good. 
 
 This makes my mourning muse dissolve in tears, 
 This themes my heavy pen, — too plain in prose ; 
 Christ's thorn is sharp, no head his garland wears 
 Still finest wits are 'stilling Venus' rose : 
 
6 RURSUS AD E USD EM. 
 
 In paynim toys the sweetest veins are spent ; 
 To Christian works few have their talents lent. 
 
 Licence my single pen to seek a phere ; 
 You heavenly sparks of wit shew native light, 
 Cloud not with mist}- loves your orient clear, 
 Sweet flights you shoot, learn once to level right. 
 Favour my wish, well-wishing works no ill ; 
 I move the suit, the grant rests in your will. 
 
SAINT PETER'S COMPLAINT, 
 
 MARY MAGDALEN'S TEARS, 
 
 WITH OTHER WORKS OF 
 
 THE AUTHOR 
 
 R. S. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY J. HAVILAND, AND 
 
 SOLD BY ROBERT ALLOTT. 
 
 1634. 
 
SAINT PETER'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 AUNCH forth, my soul, into a main 
 of tears, 
 Full fraught with grief, the traffic of 
 thy mind ; 
 Torn sails will serve thoughts rent with eruilty fears. 
 
 Give care the stern, use sighs instead of wind : 
 Remorse thy pilot, thy misdeed thy card, 
 Torment thy haven, shipwreck thy best reward. 
 
 Shun not the shelf of most deserved shame, 
 Stick in the sands of aoonizino- dread ; 
 
 Content thee to be storms' and billows' game, 
 Divorced from grace, thy soul to penance wed 
 
 Fly not from foreign ills, fly from the heart. 
 
 Worse than the worst of ills is that thou art. 
 
10 ST. PETER'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 Give vent unto the vapours of thy breast, 
 That thicken in the brims of cloudy eyes ; 
 
 Where sin was hatch'd, let tears now wash the nest, 
 Where life was lost, recover life with cries ; 
 
 Thy trespass foul, let not thy tears he few, 
 
 Baptize thy spotted soid in weeping dew. 
 
 Fly mournful plaints, the echoes of my ruth. 
 
 When screeches in my frighted conscience ring. 
 Sob out my sorrows, fruits of mine untruth. 
 
 Report the smart of sin's infernal sting ; 
 Tell hearts that languish in the sorriest plight. 
 There is on earth a for more sorry wight. 
 
 A sorry wight, the object of disgrace, 
 
 The monument of fear, the map of shame. 
 
 The mirror of mishap, the stain of place, 
 The scorn of time, the infamy of fame. 
 
 An excrement of earth, to heaven hateful. 
 
 To man injurious, to God ungrateful. 
 
 Ambitious heads, dream you of Fortune's pride, 
 
 Fill volumes with your forged goddess' praise ; 
 You Fancy's drudges, plunged in Folly's tide. 
 
 Devote your fabling writs to lovers' lays : 
 Be you, () sharpest grief's that ever wrung ! 
 Texl to my thoughts, theme to my plaining tongue. 
 
ST. PETER'S COMPLAINT. 11 
 
 Sad subject of my sin hath stored my mind, 
 With everlasting matter of complaint ; 
 
 My themes an endless alphabet do find, 
 
 Beyond the pang's which Jeremy doth paint ; 
 
 That eyes with errors may just measure keep, 
 
 Most tears I wish, that have most cause to weep. 
 
 All weeping eyes resign your tears to me, 
 A sea will scantly rinse my ordured soul ; 
 
 Huge horrors in high tides must drowned be ; 
 Of every tear my crime exacteth toll ; 
 
 These stains are deep, few drops take out no such ; 
 
 Even salve with sore, and most is not too much. 
 
 I fear'd with life to die, by death to live ; 
 
 I left my guide, — now left, and leaving God ; 
 To breathe in bliss I fear'd my breath to give, 
 
 I fear'd for heavenly sign an earthly rod ; 
 These fears I fear'd, fears feeling no mishaps, 
 Oh ! fond, oh ! faint, oh ! false, oh ! faulty lapse ! 
 
 How can I live, that thus my life denied ? 
 
 What can I hope, that lost my hope in fear ? 
 What trust in one, that truth itself defied ? 
 
 What good in him, that did his God forswear ? 
 O sin of sins ! of ills the very worst ; 
 O matchless wretch ! O caitiff most accurst ! 
 
12 ST. PETER'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 Vain in my vaunts, I vow'd, if friends had fail'd, 
 Alone Christ's hardesl fortunes to abide: 
 
 Giant in talk, like dwarf in trial quail'd, 
 
 Excelling none but in untruth and pride. 
 Such distance is between high words and deed- ! 
 In proof, the greatest vaunter seldom speeds. 
 
 Ah ! rashness, hasty rise to murdering leap. 
 
 Lavish in vowing, blind in seeing what; 
 Soon sowing shames that long remorse must reap, 
 
 Nursing with tears that over-sight begat ; 
 Scout of repentance, harbinger of blame, 
 Treason to wisdom, mother of ill name. 
 
 The born-blind beggar, for received sight, 
 Fast in his faith and love to Christ remained ; 
 
 lie stooped to no fear, he fearM no might. 
 
 No change his choice, no threats bis truth distain'd: 
 
 One wonder wrought him in his duty sure, 
 
 I, after thousands, did my Lord abjure. 
 
 Could servile fear of rendering Nature's due, 
 Which growth in years was shortly like to claim. 
 
 So thrall my h»vc. that 1 should thus eschew 
 A vowed death, and mi^s 80 fair an aim ? 
 
 Die, die disloyal wretch, thy life detest ; 
 
 Fur saving thine, thou hast forsworn the best. 
 
ST. PETER'S COMPLAINT. 13 
 
 Ah ! life, sweet drop, drown'd in a sea of sours, 
 A flying good, posting to doubtful end ; 
 
 Still losing months and years to gain new hours, 
 Fain times to have and spare, jet forced to spend ; 
 
 Thy growth, decrease; a moment all thou hast. 
 
 That gone ere known ; the rest, to come, or past. 
 
 Ah ! life, the maze of countless straying ways, 
 Open to erring steps and strew'd with baits, 
 
 To bind weak senses into endless strays, 
 
 Aloof from Virtue's rough, unbeaten straits ; 
 
 A flower, a play, a blast, a shade, a dream, 
 
 A living death, a never-turning stream. 
 
 And could I rate so high a life so base ? 
 
 Did fear with love cast so uneven account, 
 That for this goal I shoidd run Judas' race, 
 
 And Caiaphas' rage in cruelty surmount ? 
 Yet they esteemed thirty pence his price ; 
 I, worse than both, for nought denied him thrice. 
 
 The mother-sea, from overflowing deep, 
 Sends forth her issue by divided veins, 
 
 Yet back her offspring to their mother creep, 
 To pay the purest streams with added gains. 
 
 But I, that drank the drops of heavenly flood, 
 
 Bemired the Giver with returning mud ! 
 
14 ST PETERS COMPLAINT. 
 
 Is this the harvest of his sowing toil ? 
 
 Did Christ manure thy heart to breed him briers? 
 Or doth it need tlii- unaccustom'd soil, 
 
 With hellish dang to fertile heaven's desin 
 
 No. no, the marl that perjuries do yield. 
 May >poil a good, not fat a barren field . 
 
 Was this for best deserts the direst meed? 
 
 Are highest worths well waged with spiteful hire? 
 Are stoutest vows repeal'd in greatest need ? 
 
 Should friendship, at the first affront, retire? 
 Blush, craven sot, lurk in eternal night; 
 Crouch in the darkest caves from loathed light ! 
 
 Ah ! wretch, why was I named son of a Dove. 
 
 Whose speeches voided spite and breathed gall ? 
 No kin I am unto the bird of love, 
 
 .Mv stony name much better suits my fall: 
 My oath> were stones, my cruel tongue the sling, 
 My God the mark at which my spite did fling ! 
 
 Were all the Jewish tyrannies too fen 
 To glut thy hungry Looks with hi- disgrace? 
 
 That these more hateful tyrannies must shew, 
 And -pit thy poison in thy Maker'- face? 
 
 Didsl thou to spare his foes put up thy sword, 
 
 To brandish now thy tongue against thy Lord 
 
ST. PETERS COMPLAINT. 15 
 
 Ah ! tongue, that didst his praise and Godhead sound, 
 How wert thou stain'd with such detesting words. 
 
 That every word was to his heart a wound, 
 
 And lanced him deeper than a thousand swords ? 
 
 What rage of man, yea what infernal sprite, 
 
 Could have disgorged more loathsome dregs of spite ? 
 
 Why did the yielding sea, like marble way, 
 
 Support a wretch more wavering than the waves ? 
 
 Whom doubt did plunge, why did the waters stay, 
 Unkind in kindness, murdering while it saves ? 
 
 Oh that this tongue had then been fishes' food, 
 
 And I devour'd, before this cursing mood ! 
 
 These surges, depths and seas, unfirm by kind, 
 Rough gusts, and distance both from ship and shore, 
 
 Were titles to excuse my staggering mind ; 
 Stout feet might falter on that liquid floor. 
 
 But here no seas, no blasts, no billows were, 
 
 A puff of woman's wind bred all my fear. 
 
 coward troops, far better arm'd than hearted ! 
 Whom angry words, whom blows could not provoke ; 
 
 Whom though I taught how sore my weapon smarted, 
 
 Yet none repaid me with a wounding stroke. 
 Oh no ! that stroke could but one moiety kill ; 
 
 1 was reserved both halves at once to spill. 
 
16 ST. PETERS COMPLAINT. 
 
 Ah ! whither was forgotten love exiled ? 
 
 Where did the truth of pledged promise sleep ? 
 What in my thoughts begat this ugly child, 
 
 That could through rented soul thus fiercely creep? 
 O viper, fear their death by whom thou livest : 
 All good thy ruins wreck, all ills thou givest ! 
 
 Threats threw me not, torment- I none assayed : 
 My fray with shades : conceits did make me yield. 
 
 Wounding my thoughts with fears ; Belfly dismayM, 
 I neither fought nor lost. — I gave the field: 
 
 Infamous foil ! a maiden's easy breath 
 
 Did blow me down, and blast my soul to death. 
 
 Titles I make untruths ■ am I a rock. 
 That with so soft a gale was overthrown ? 
 
 Am I tit pastor for the faithful flock, 
 
 To guide their souls that murder'd thus mine own? 
 
 A rock of ruin, not a rest to Btay ; 
 
 A pastor, — not to feed, but to betray. 
 
 Fidelity was flown when fear was hatch'd, 
 
 Brood incompatible in Virtue's nest ! 
 Courage can less with cowardice be match'd, 
 
 Prowc-- nor love lodged in divided breast. 
 
 ( ) Adam's child, cast by a -illy Eve, 
 
 Heir to thy father'.- foil-, and hern to grieve! 
 
ST. PETERS COMPLAINT. 17 
 
 In Thabor's joys I eager was to dwell, 
 
 An earnest friend while pleasures' light did shine ; 
 But when eclipsed glory prostrate fell, 
 
 These zealous heats to sleep I did resign ; 
 And now, my mouth hath thrice his name defiled, 
 That cried so loud three dwellings there to build. 
 
 "When Christ, attending the distressful hour, 
 
 With his surcharged breast did bless the ground, 
 
 Prostrate in pangs, raining a bleeding shower, 
 Me, like myself, a drowsy friend He found. 
 
 Thrice, in His care, sleep-closed by careless eye, 
 
 Presage how Him my tongue should thrice deny. 
 
 Parting from Christ my fainting force declined, 
 With lino-erino- foot I followed him aloof; 
 
 Base fear out of my heart his love unshrined, 
 Huge in high words, but impotent in proof. 
 
 My vaunts did seem hatch'd under Samson's locks, 
 
 Yet woman's words did give me murdering knocks. 
 
 So fare lukewarm desires in crazy love, 
 
 Far off, in need, with feeble foot they train ; 
 In tides they swim, low ebbs they scorn to prove ; 
 They suck their friends' delights, but shun their 
 pain. 
 Hire of an hireling mind is earned shame : 
 Take now thy due, bear thy begotten blame, 
 c 
 
18 ST. PETERS COMPLAIXT. 
 
 All ! cool remissness, virtue's quartan fever, 
 Pining of love, consumption of grace; 
 
 Old in the cradle, languor dying ever, 
 
 Soul's wilful famine. Bin's soft-stealing pace; 
 
 The undermining ill of zealous thought, 
 
 Seeming to bring no harms, till all he brought ! 
 
 portress of the door of my disgrace, 
 
 AVhose tongue unlock'd the truth of vowed mind ; 
 Whose words from coward's heart did courage chase, 
 
 And let in deathful fears my soul to blind ; 
 Oh, hadst thou been the portress to my tomb, 
 When thou wert portress to that cursed room ! 
 
 Yet love was loath to part, fear loath to die ; 
 
 Stay, danger, life, did counterplead their cai 
 I, favouring stay and life, hade danger Hy, 
 
 But danger did except against these clauses; 
 Vet stay and live 1 would, and danger shun, 
 And losl myself, while 1 my verdict won. 
 
 1 staid, yet did my staying farthest part ; 
 
 I lived, hut BO, that saving life 1 lost it ; 
 Danger 1 Bhunn'd, bul to my Borer smart, 
 
 I gained nought, hut deeper danger cross'd it. 
 What danger, distance, death, is worse than \\\\<. 
 That runs from God and spoils hi- bouI of bliss? 
 
ST. PETERS COMPLAIXT. 19 
 
 John, my guide unto this earthly hell, 
 Too well acquainted in so ill a court, 
 
 (Where railing mouths with blasphemies did swell, 
 With tainted breath infecting all resort.) 
 
 Why didst thou lead me to this hell of evils, 
 
 To show myself a fiend among the devils ? 
 
 Ill precedent, the tide that wafts to vice ; 
 
 Dumb orator, that woos with silent deeds, 
 Writing in works lessons of ill advice ; 
 
 The doing tale that eye in practice reads. 
 Taster of joys to unacquainted hunger, 
 With leaven of the old seasoning the younger. 
 
 It seems no fault to do that all have done ; 
 
 The number of offenders hides the sin ; 
 Coach drawn with many horse doth easily run, 
 
 Soon followeth one where multitudes begin. 
 Oh, had I in that Court much stronger been, 
 Or not so strong as first to enter in ! 
 
 Sharp was the weather in that stormy place, 
 Best suiting hearts benumb'd with hellish frost, 
 
 Whose crusted malice could admit no grace : 
 Where coals are kindled to the warmers' cost ; 
 
 "Where fear my thoughts candied with icy cold, 
 
 Heat did my tongue to perjuries unfold. 
 
20 ST. PETERS COMPLAINT. 
 
 hateful fire (ah ! that I ever Baw it) ! 
 
 T<»o hard ray heart was frozen for thy force : 
 Far hotter flames it did require to thaw it. 
 
 Thy hen-resembling heat did freeze it worso. 
 Oh that I rather had congeal'd to ice, 
 Thau bought thy warmth at such a damning price ! 
 
 wakeful bird ! proclaimer of the day. 
 
 ^Vhose piercing note doth daunt the lion's rage ; 
 Thy crowing did myself to me bewray, 
 
 My frights and brutish heats it did assuage. 
 But oh ! in this alone, unhappy cock, 
 That thou to count my foils wert made the clock ! 
 
 ( I bird ! the just rebuker of my crime. 
 
 The faithful waker of my sleeping fears. 
 Be now the daily dock to strike the time. 
 
 When .-tinted eyes shall pay their task of tears : 
 Upbraid mine ears with thine accusing crow, 
 To make me rue what first it made me know. 
 
 mild revenger of aspiring pride ! 
 
 Thou canst dismount high thoughts to low i 
 Thou madest a cock me for my fault to chide. 
 
 My lofty boasts this lowly bird corrects. 
 Wi 11 might a cock correct me with a crow, 
 "Whom henui.-h cackling first did overthrow. 
 
ST. PETERS COMPLAINT. 21 
 
 Weak • a fames abate, 
 
 Whoe si . did I 
 
 His !• ■■■'■. huge. --"■' i mass 
 
 fet David's si _ I - brain; 
 
 With staff and sling as to a dog he came. 
 And with contempt dj - a; i me. 
 
 Eel Dj ■ h bear and lion fought, 
 
 Hi- skill Imighi - I G '- fofl : 
 
 The death i- ease I that worthy : th wronghl . 
 
 Some honour lives i -poil. 
 
 But I. on whom all infami - si 
 deadi witih ■ ■ . .- - 
 
 Small gnats I d th 3 Egy] I a stoop, 
 
 Yet they in swarms, and ai 
 Smart, noise, annoyance, m - _ op; — 
 
 No small memnbranoe snch small vermin brings : 
 I quafl'd ar words that neither bit - 
 And those deliver'd from a won i's 1 
 
 Ah fear ! abortive imp of drooping min 
 
 Self-overthrow, fak toi oorae; 
 
 Sighted - bag Qls, in shonni _ 
 
 Foil* J without " I by force : 
 
 Ague of valour, frenzy of die wise, 
 
 Fine honour's stain, love's frost, the mint of lies. 
 
l_ ST. PETERS t XT. 
 
 Can virtue, sfa _ I'd 
 
 In D '"- S - £ ms a's rails, 
 
 With seniblar. f excuse i 
 
 lend a marble _ - Qs? 
 
 no! their fan".- had si -nee, 
 N . hi th ah imc I ace. 
 
 The blaze of bi - - Cured their lo I - 
 
 Their looks, by s _ 
 
 :: ■ _ - . pleasure'- ks; 
 
 Thu- them did move. 
 
 1 le Syi - _ si ck'd then. I - 
 
 gh to damn,, yet not to damn 50 de 
 
 But gr - :Ied not mine c 
 
 ] homely - s of 
 
 Not love, but : ear, i senses <] 
 
 Not fear of force, but fear of won 
 And those unarm'd, ill gn - " . unknown : 
 
 ase a blast my truth hath overthrown ! 
 
 O women ! woe ton: heir falls ; 
 
 Still actors in all tragical mischa:. 
 Earth's necessary ills, ca] a rails, 
 
 IS " murdering with your t<. ■:. . -: l your 
 
 glai. 
 Parents of life ai 
 
 a of heart-. 
 
ST. PETERS COMPLAINT. 23 
 
 In time. Lord ! thine eyes with mine did meet. 
 In them I read the rains of my fall : 
 
 Their cheering rays, that made misfortune sweet. 
 Into my guilty thoughts pour'd floods of gall : 
 
 Their heavenly looks, that hless'd where they beheld, 
 
 Darts of disdain and angry check- did yield. 
 
 O sacred eyes ! the springs of living light. 
 
 The earthly heavens where angels joy to dwell. 
 How could you deign to view my deathfoJ plight, 
 
 Or let your heavenly beam- look on my hell ? 
 But those unspotted eye- encounter'd mine. 
 As spotless sim doth on the dunghill shine. 
 
 Sweet volumes, stored with learning lit for saints. 
 Where blissful quires imparadise their minds ; 
 Wherein eternal study never faints, 
 
 Still finding all. yet seeking all it finds : 
 How endless is your labyrinth of bliss. 
 Where to be lost the sweetest finding is ! 
 
 All wretch ! how oft have I sweet lessons read 
 In those dear eyes, the registers of truth ! 
 
 How oft have I my hungry wishes fed. 
 
 And in their happy joys redress'd my ruth ! 
 
 Ah ! that they now are heralds of disdain, 
 
 That erst were ever pitiers of my pain ! 
 
24 ST. PETERS COMPLAINT. 
 
 You flames divine, that sparkle out your heats, 
 And kindle pleasing fires in mortal hearts ; 
 
 You nectar' d ambries of soul-feeding meats ; 
 You graceful quivers of love"- dearest darts; 
 
 You did vouchsafe to warm, to wound, to feast, 
 
 My cold, my stony, my now famish'd breast. 
 
 The matchless eyes, match'd only each by other, 
 Were pleased on my ill matched eyes to glance ; 
 
 The eye of liquid pearl, the purest mother, 
 
 Broach'd tears in mine to weep for my mischance ; 
 
 The cabinets of grace unlock'd their treasure, 
 
 And did to my misdeed their mercies measure. 
 
 These blazing comets, lightning flames of love. 
 
 Made me their warming influence to know ; 
 My frozen heart their sacred force did prove, 
 
 Which at their looks did yield like melting mow : 
 They did not joys in former plenty carve. 
 Yet sweet are crumbs where pined tin nights do starve. 
 
 O living mirrors ! seeing whom you show, 
 
 Which equal shadow worths with shadowed thing-. 
 
 Yea, make things nobler than in native hue. 
 By being shaped in these lite-giving -primes: 
 
 Much more my image in those eyes was grace-]. 
 
 Than in myself whom sin and shame defaced! 
 
ST. PETER'S COMPLAINT. 25 
 
 All-seeing eves, more worth than all you see, 
 Of which one is the other's only price ; 
 
 I worthless am, direct your beams on me, 
 "With quickening virtue cure my killing vice. 
 
 By seeing things you make things worth the sight, 
 
 You seeing, salve, and being seen, delight ! 
 
 Oh ! pools of Hesebon, the baths of grace, 
 Where happy spirits dive in sweet desires; 
 
 Where saints delight to glass their glorious face, 
 Whose banks make echo to the angel quires ; 
 
 An echo sweeter in the sole rebound, 
 
 Than angels' music in the fullest sound ! 
 
 Oh eyes ! whose glances are a silent speech, 
 In cipher'd works high mysteries disclosing ; 
 
 "Which, with a look, all sciences can teach, 
 
 Whose texts to faithful hearts need little glosing ; 
 
 Witness unworthy I, who in a look 
 
 Learn'd more by rote, than all the scribes by book ! 
 
 Though malice still possess'd their harden'd minds, 
 I, though too hard, learn'd softness in thine eye, 
 
 Which iron knots of stubborn will unbinds, 
 
 Offering them love, that love with love will buy. 
 
 This did I learn, yet they could not discern it ; 
 
 But woe, that I had now such need to learn it ! 
 
26 1ST. PETERS COMPLAINT. 
 
 O suns ! all but yourselves in light excelling, 
 Whose presence day, whose absence causeth night; 
 
 "Whose neighbour-course brings Summer, cold 
 expelling, 
 Whose distant periods freeze away delight. 
 
 Ah ! that I lost your bright and fostering beams, 
 
 To plunge my soul in these congealed streams \ 
 
 Oh ! gracious spheres, where love the centre is, 
 A native place for our Belf-laden souls; 
 
 The compass, love, — a cope that Done can miss, 
 The motion, love, — that round about as roll- : 
 
 Oh ! spheres of love, whose centre, cope, and motion, 
 
 Is love of us, love that invites devotion ! 
 
 Oh ! little worlds, the sums of all the best, 
 
 Whose glory, heaven ; God, sun ; all virtues, stars ; 
 
 Whose fire, — a love that next to heaven doth rest ; 
 Air, — light of life that no distemper mars ; 
 
 Whose water grace, whose seas, whose springs, whose 
 showers, 
 
 Clothe Nature's earth with everlasting flowers ! 
 
 What mixtures these Bweel elements do yield, 
 Let happy worldlings of these worlds expound ; 
 
 But Bimples are by compounds far exceU'd, 
 
 Both suil a place where all best things abound ; 
 
 And if a banish'd wretch guess not amiss, 
 
 All but one compound frame of perfect bliss, 
 
ST. PETERS COMPLAINT. 27 
 
 I, cast-out from these worlds, exiled roam, 
 
 Poor saint from heaven, from fire cold salamander ! 
 
 Lost fish from those sweet waters' kindly home, 
 From land of life stray'd pilgrim still I wander. 
 
 I know the cause : these worlds had never hell, 
 
 In which my faults have hest deserved to dwell. 
 
 Oh Bethlem-cisterns ! David's most desire, 
 
 From which my sins like fierce Philistines keep ; 
 
 To fetch your drops what champion should I hire, 
 That I therein my wither'd heart may steep ? 
 
 I would not shed them like that holy king : 
 
 His were but types, these are the figured thing. 
 
 Oh ! turtle twins all bathed in virgin's milk, 
 Upon the margin of full-flowing banks, 
 
 ^Yhose graceful plume surmounts the finest silk. 
 Whose sight enamoureth heaven's most happy 
 ranks : 
 
 Could I forswear this heavenly pair of doves, 
 
 That caged in care for me were groaning loves ! 
 
 Twice Moses' hand did strike the stubborn rock, 
 Ere stony veins would yield their crystal blood ; 
 
 Thine eyes, one look, served as an only knock 
 To make my heart gush out a weeping flood, 
 
 Wherein my sins, as fishes, spawn their fry, 
 
 To show their inward shames, and then to die. 
 
28 ST. PETER'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 But oli! how long demur I on his eve-. 
 
 Whose look did pierce my heart wit] 1 healing wound 
 Lancing imposthumed sore of perjured lies, 
 
 Which these two issues of mine eves have found 
 Where run it must till death the issues stop, 
 And penal life hath purged the final drop. 
 
 Like solest swan, that swims in silent deep, 
 And never sings but obsequies of death, 
 
 Sigh out thy plaints, and sole in secret weep. 
 In suing pardon spend thy perjured breath ; 
 
 Attire thy soul in sorrow's mourning weed. 
 
 And at thine eyes let guilty conscience bleed. 
 
 'Still in the 'lembic of thy doleful breasi 
 
 Those bitter fruits that from thy sins do grow ; 
 
 For fuel, self-accusing thoughts be best : 
 Use fear as fire, the coals lot penance blow ; 
 
 And sook aone other quintessence but tears. 
 
 That eyes may shed what onter'd at thine ears. 
 
 Come sorrowing tears, the offspring of my grief, 
 
 Scant not your parent of a needful aid ; 
 
 In you I relt the hope ofwish'd relief, 
 
 \\\ you my sinful debts must be det'iav'd : 
 
 Four power prevails, your sacrifice is grateful, 
 
 r>\ love obtaining lite to men mOSl hateful. 
 
ST. PETER'S COMPLAINT. 29 
 
 Come good effect of ill-deserving cause, 
 
 111 gotten imps, yet virtuously brought forth ; 
 
 Self-blaming probates of infringed laws, 
 
 Yet blamed faults redeeming with your worth ; 
 
 The signs of shame in you each eye may read, 
 
 Yet, while you guilty prove, }'0U pity plead. 
 
 O beams of mercy ! beat on sorrow's cloud, 
 
 Pour suppling showers upon my parched ground ; 
 
 Bring forth the fruit to your due service vow'd, 
 Let good desires with like deserts be crown'd : 
 
 Water young blooming virtue's tender flow'r, 
 
 Sin did all grace of riper growth devour. 
 
 "Weep balm and myrrh, you sweet Arabian trees, 
 With purest gums perfume and pearl your rine ; 
 
 Shed on your honey-drops, you busy bees, 
 I, barren plant, must weep unpleasant brine : 
 
 Hornets I hive, salt drops their labour plies, 
 
 Suck'd out of sin, and shed by showering eyes, 
 
 If David, night by night, did bathe his bed, 
 Esteeming longest days too short to moan ; 
 
 Tears inconsolable if Anna shed, 
 
 Who in her son her solace had foregone ; 
 
 Then I to days and weeks, to months and years, 
 
 Do owe the hourly rent of stintless tears. 
 
30 ST PETER'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 If love, if loss, if fault, if spotted fame, 
 
 If danger, death, if wrath, or wreck of weal, 
 
 Entitle eyes true heirs to earned blame, 
 That due remorse in such events conceal : 
 
 That want of tears might well enrol my name, 
 
 As chiefest saint in kalendar of shame. 
 
 Love, where I loved, was due and host deserved : 
 No love coidd aim at more love-worthy mark ; 
 
 No love more loved than mine of him I served ; 
 Large use he gave, a flame for every spark. 
 
 This love I lost, this loss a life must rue ; 
 
 Yea, life is short to pay the ruth is due. 
 
 I lost all that I had, who had the most, 
 The most that will can wish, or wit devise : 
 
 I least perform'd that did most vainly boast, 
 I staiird my nunc in most infamous wise. 
 
 What danger then, death, wrath, or wreck can move 
 
 More pregnant cause of tears than this 1 prove? 
 
 If Ailam Bought a veil to scarf his sin. 
 Taught bv his fall to fear a Bcourging hand : 
 
 If men shall wish that hills should wrap them in. 
 
 When crimes in final doom come to be BCann'd : 
 What mount, what cave, what centre can conceal 
 
 .My monstrous fact, which even the birds reveal? 
 
ST. PETERS COMPLAINT. 31 
 
 Come shame, the livery of offending mind, 
 The ugly shroud that overshadoweth blame ; 
 
 The mulct at which foul faults are justly fined ; 
 The damp of sin, the common slime of fame, 
 
 By which imposthumed tongues then humours purge ; 
 
 Light shame on me, I best deserved the scourge. 
 
 Cain's murdering hand imbrued in brother's blood, 
 More mercy than my impious tongue may crave ; 
 
 He kill'd a rival with pretence of good, 
 In hope God's doubled love alone to have. 
 
 But fear so spoil'd my vanquish'd thoughts of love, 
 
 That perjured oaths my spiteful hate did prove. 
 
 Poor Agar from her sphere enforced to fly, 
 In wilds Barsabian wandering alone, 
 
 Doubting her child through helpless drought would die, 
 Laid it aloof, and set her down to moan : 
 
 The heavens with prayers, her lap with tears she fifl'd ; 
 
 A mother's love in loss is hardly still'd. 
 
 But, Agar, now bequeath thy tears to me ; 
 
 Fears, not effects, did set afloat thine eyes. 
 But, wretch ! I feel more than was fear'd by thee ; 
 
 Ah ! not my son, my soul it is that dies. 
 It dies for drought, yet hath a spring in sight : 
 Worthy to die, that would not live, and might. 
 
32 ST PETER'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 Fair Absalom's foul faults, compared with mine. 
 
 Are brightest sands to mud of Sodom's lake : 
 High aims, young spirits, birth of royal line. 
 
 -Made him play false where kingdom- were the 
 stake : 
 He gazed on golden hopes, whose lustre wins, 
 Sometimes, the gravest wits to grievous Bins. 
 
 13ut T, whose crime cuts off the least excuse, 
 A kingdom lo>t. but hoped no mite of gain ; 
 
 My highest mark was but the worthless use 
 Of some few lingering hours of longer pain. 
 
 Ungrateful child, his parent he pursued, 
 
 I, giants' war with God himself renewed ! 
 
 Joy, infant saints, whom in the tender flower 
 A happy storm did free from fear of sin ! 
 
 Long is their life that die in blissful hour; 
 Joyful such ends as endless joys begin : 
 
 For long they lire thai live till they be uoughl : 
 
 Life Baved by sin, is purchase dearly bought] 
 
 This lot was mine: youi fate was not so fierce, 
 Whom Bpotless death in cradle rock'd asleep ; 
 
 Sweet roses, mix'd with lilies, strew'd your hearse. 
 
 Death virgin-white in martyrs' rod did Bteep : 
 Your downy head- both pearls and rubies CTOWn'd, 
 Mv hoary Locks did female fears confound. 
 
ST. PETERS COMPLAINT. 33 
 
 You bleating- ewes, that wail this wolvish spoil 
 Of suckino- lambs new bought with bitter throes ; 
 
 To embalm your babes your eyes distil their oil, 
 Each heart to tomb her child wide rapture shows. 
 
 Rue not their death, whom death did but revive, 
 
 Yield ruth to me that lived to die alive. 
 
 With easy loss sharp wrecks did he eschew, 
 That sindonless aside did naked slip : 
 
 Once naked grace no outward garment knew ; 
 Such are his robes whom sin did never strip. 
 
 I, rich in vaunts, display'd pride's fairest flags, 
 
 Disrobed of grace, am wrapp'd in Adam's rags. 
 
 When, traitor to the Son, in Mother's eyes 
 I shall present my humble suit for grace, 
 
 What blush can paint the shame that will arise, 
 Or write my inward feelings on my face ? 
 
 Might she the sorrow with the sinner see, 
 
 Though I'm despised, my grief might pitied be ! 
 
 But ah ! how can her ears my speech endure, 
 Or scent my breath still reeking hellish steam ? 
 
 Can Mother like what did the Son abjure, 
 Or heart deflower'd a Virgin's love redeem ? 
 
 The Mother nothing loves that Son doth loathe : 
 
 Ah ! loathsome wretch, detested of them both ! 
 
34 ST. PETERS COMPLAINT. 
 
 sister nymphs, the sweet renowned pair, 
 That bless Bethania bounds with your abode ! 
 
 Shall I infect that sanctified air, 
 
 Or stain those steps where Jesus breathed and trod ? 
 No, let your prayers perfume that sweeten'd place ; 
 Turn me with tigers to the wildest chacc. 
 
 Could I revived Lazarus behold, 
 
 The third of that sweet trinity of saints, 
 
 Would not astonish'd dread my senses hold? 
 Ah yes ! my heart even with his naming faints : 
 
 1 seem to see a messenger from hell, 
 That my prepared torments comes to tell. 
 
 O John! O James ! we made a triple curd 
 Of three most loving and best loved friends ; 
 
 My rotten twist was broken with a word. 
 Fit now to fuel fire among the fiends. 
 
 It is not ever true though often spoken. 
 
 That triple-twisted cord is hardly broken. 
 
 The devils dispossessed, thai oul I threw 
 In Jesus' name, now impiouslv forsworn, 
 
 Triumph to Bee me caged in their mew. 
 
 Trampling mj ruins with contempt and scorn. 
 
 My perjuries were music to their dance, 
 
 And now they heap disdain on mv mischance. 
 
ST. PETER'S COMPLAINT, 35 
 
 Our rock, saj T they, is riven ; oh, welcome hour ! 
 
 Our eagle's wings are elipp'd that wrought so high 
 Our thundering cloud made noise, but cast no shower 
 
 He prostrate lies that would have scaled the sky 
 In woman's tongue our rubber found a rub, 
 Our cedar now is shrunk into a shrub. 
 
 These scornful words upbraid my inward thought, 
 Proofs of their damned prompters' neighbour- voice : 
 
 Such ugly guests still wait upon the naught, 
 Fiends swarm to souls that swerve from virtue's 
 choice : 
 
 For breach of plighted truth this true I try ; 
 
 Ah ! that my deed thus gave my word the lie ! 
 
 Once, and but once, too dear a once to twice it ! 
 
 A heaven in earth, saints near myself I saw : 
 Sweet was the sight, but sweeter loves did spice it, 
 
 But sights and loves did my misdeed withdraw. 
 From heaven and saints, to hell and devils estranged, 
 Those sights to frights, those loves to hates are changed . 
 
 Christ, as my God, was templed in my thought, 
 As man, He lent mine eyes their dearest light ; 
 
 But sin His temple hath to ruin brought, 
 
 And now He lighteneth terror from His sight. 
 
 Now of my late unconsecrate desires, 
 
 Profaned wretch ! I taste the earned hires. 
 
36 ST. PETER'S C031PLAIXT. 
 
 Ah ! sin, the nothing that doth all things file, 
 Outcast from heaven, earth's curse, thecauseofheU ; 
 
 Parent of death, author of our exile, 
 
 The wreck of souls, the wares that fiends do sell ; 
 
 That men to monsters, angels turns to devils, 
 
 Wrong of all rights, self-ruin, root of evils. 
 
 A thing most clone, yet more than God can do ; 
 
 Daily new done, yet ever dune amiss : 
 Friended of all, yet unto all a foe ; 
 
 Seeming an heaven, yet banishing from bliss ; 
 Served with toil, yet paving nought but pain, 
 Man's deepest loss, though false-esteemed gain. 
 
 Shot, without noise ; wound, without present smart; 
 
 First seeming light, proving in fine B lead ; 
 Entering with ease, not easily won to part, 
 
 Far in effects from that the shows abode : 
 Indorsed with hope, subscribed with despair, 
 Ugly in death, though life did feign it fair. 
 
 A moment's joy ending in endless fin 
 Our nature's Bcum, the world's entangling net, 
 Night of our thoughts, death of all good desires. 
 
 Worse than all this, worse than all tongues can say, 
 Which man could owe, but only God defray. 
 
ST. PETER'S COMPLAINT. 1*7 
 
 This fawning viper, dumb till he had wounded, 
 With many mouths doth now upbraid my harms ; 
 
 My sight was veil'd till I nryself confounded, 
 Then did I see the disenchanted charms : 
 
 Then could I cut the anatomy of sin, 
 
 And search with lynxes' eyes what lay within. 
 
 Bewitching ill, that hides death in deceits, 
 
 Still borrowing lying shapes to mask thy face, 
 
 Xow know I the deciphering of thy sleights ; 
 A cunning dearly bought with loss of grace : 
 
 Thy sugar'd poison now hath wrought so well, 
 
 That thou hast made me to myself a hell. 
 
 My eyes read mournful lessons to my heart. 
 
 My heart doth to my thought the grief expound ; 
 
 My thought the same doth to my tongue impart, 
 My tongue the message in the ears doth sound ; 
 
 My ears back to my heart then sorrows send ; 
 
 Thus circling griefs run round without an end. 
 
 My guilty eye still seems to see my sin, 
 All things are characters to spell my fall ; 
 
 What eye doth read without, heart rues within, 
 "What heart doth rue, to pensive thought is gall, 
 
 Which when the thought would by the tongue digest, 
 
 The ear conveys it back into the breast. 
 
38 ST. PETER'S COMPLAIXT. 
 
 Thus gripes in all my parts do never fail, 
 
 Whose only league is now in bartering pains; 
 
 "What I engross tln-y traffic by retail, 
 
 Making each others' miseries their gains : 
 
 All bound for ever prentices to a 1 1 . 
 
 Whilst I in shop of shame trade sorrow's ware. 
 
 Pleased with displeasing lot I seek no change : 
 I wealthiest am when richest in remorse; 
 
 To fetch my ware no seas nor land- 1 range : 
 For customers to buy I nothing force : 
 
 My home-bred goods at home arc bought and sold. 
 
 And still in me my interest I hold. 
 
 My comfort now is comfortless to live 
 
 In orphan state, devoted to mishap : 
 .But from the root that sweetest fruit did give, 
 
 I scorn M to graffin stock of meaner sap. 
 No juice can joy me but of Jesse's flower, 
 Where heavenly root hath true reviving power. 
 
 At Sorrow's door I knock'd, they craved my name: 
 1 answerM, one unworthy to be known. 
 
 What one? say they. One worthiest of blame. 
 Bui who? a wretch, not God's, nor yet his own. 
 
 A man? < >hno! abeasi : much worse. What creature 
 
 A rock. EEowcall'd? the rock of scandal, Peter! 
 
ST. PETERS COMPLAINT. 39 
 
 From whence ? From Caiaphas' house. Ah ! dwell 
 you there ? 
 
 Sin's farm I rented there, but now would leave it. 
 What rent ? my soul. What gain ? unrest and fear. 
 
 Dear purchase ! Ah! too dear ; will you receive it? 
 What shall we give ? Fit tears and times to plain me. 
 Come in, they say. Thus griefs did entertain me. 
 
 With them I rest true prisoner in their jail, 
 Chain'd in the iron links of basest thrall ; 
 
 Till Grace, vouchsafing captive soul to bail, 
 In wonted see degraded loves install. 
 
 Days pass in plaints, the night without repose ; 
 
 I wake to sleep ; I sleep in waking woes. 
 
 Sleep, Death's ally, oblivion of tears, 
 Silence of passions, blame of angry sore, 
 
 Suspense of loves, security of fears, 
 
 Wrath's lenity, heart's ease, storm's calmest shore ; 
 
 Senses' and souls' reprieval from all cumbers, 
 
 Benumbing sense of ill with quiet slumbers ! 
 
 Not such my sleep, but whisperer of dreams, 
 Creating strange chimeras, feigning frights ; 
 
 Of day -discourses giving fancy themes, 
 
 To make dumb-show with worlds of antic sights ; 
 
 Casting true griefs in fancy's forged mould, 
 
 Brokenly telling tales rightly foretold. 
 
40 ST. PETER'S C03IPLAIST. 
 
 This sleep most fitly suiteth sorrow's bed, 
 Sorrow, the smart of ill, Sin's eldest child ; 
 
 Best, when unkind in killing whom it bred ; 
 A rack for guilty thoughts, a bit for wild ; 
 
 The scourge that whips, the salve that cores offence : 
 
 Sorrow, my bed and home, while life hath sense. 
 
 Here solitary muses nurse their griefs, 
 In silent loneness burying worldly noise ; 
 
 Attentive to rebukes, deaf to reliefs, 
 
 Pensive to foster cares, careless of joys ; 
 
 Ruing life's loss under death's dreary roofs, 
 
 Solemnizing my funeral behoofs. 
 
 A self-contempt the shroud, my soul the corse, 
 The bier, an humble hope, the hearse-cloth, fear; 
 
 The mourners, thoughts, in black of deep remorse, 
 The hearse, grace, pity, lore and mercy bear: 
 
 My tears, my dole, the priest, a zealous will, 
 Penance, the tomb, and doleful sighs the knell. 
 
 Chrisl ! health of fevor'd soul, heaven of the mind. 
 Force of the feeble, nurse of infant Loves, 
 
 Guide to the wandering foot, light to the blind. 
 
 Whom weeping wins, repentant sorrow moves: 
 Father in care, mother in tender heart, 
 Revive and save me. slain with sinful dart ! 
 
ST. PETER'S COMPLAINT. 41 
 
 If King Manasses, sunk in depth of sin, 
 
 With plaints and tears recover'd grace and crown, 
 
 A worthless worm some mild regard may win, 
 And lowly creep, where flying threw it down. 
 
 A poor desire I have to mend my ill, 
 
 I should, I would, I dare not say, I will. 
 
 I dare not say I will, but wish I may ; 
 
 My pride is check'd, high words the speaker spilt. 
 My good, O Lord ! Thy gift, Thy strength mistay, 
 
 Give what Thou bidst, and then bid what Thou wilt. 
 Work with me what of me Thou dost request, 
 Then will I dare the worst and love the best. 
 
 Prone look, cross'd arms, bent knee and contrite heart, 
 Deep sighs, thick sobs, dew'd eyes and prostrate 
 pray'rs, 
 
 Most humbly beg release of earned smart, 
 And saving shroud in mercy's sweet repairs. 
 
 If justice should my wrongs with rigour wage, 
 
 Fears woidd despairs, ruth breed a hopeless rage. 
 
 Lazar at pity's gate I ulcer'd lie, 
 
 Craving the refuse crumbs of children's plate ; 
 My sores I lay in view to Mercy's eye, 
 
 My rags bear witness of my poor estate : 
 The worms of conscience that within me swarm, 
 Prove that my plaints are less than is my harm. 
 
42 ST. PETERS COMPLAIXT. 
 
 With mildness, Jesu, measure mine offence ; 
 
 Let true remorse Thy due revenge abate ; 
 Let tears appease when trespass doth increase ; 
 
 Let pity temper Thy deserved hate ; 
 Let grace forgive, let love forget my fall : 
 With fear I crave, with hope I humbly call. 
 
 Redeem my lapse with ransom of Thy love. 
 
 Traverse th' indictment, rigour's doom >u>pend 
 Let frailty favour, sorrows succour move, 
 
 Be Thou Thyself, though changeling I offend. 
 Tender my suit, cleanse this denied den, 
 Cancel my debts, sweet Jesu, Bay Amen ! 
 
43 
 
 MARY MAGDALEN'S BLUSH. 
 
 ,HE signs of shame that stain my 
 blushing face 
 Rise from the feeling of my raving fits, 
 Whose joy annoy, whose guerdon is 
 disgrace, 
 Whose solace flies, whose sorrow never flits ; 
 Bad seed I sow'd, worse seed is now my gain, 
 Soon-dying mirth begat long-living pain . 
 
 Now pleasure ebbs, revenge begins to flow ; 
 One day doth work the wrath that many wrought ; 
 Remorse doth teach my guilty thoughts to know 
 How cheap I sold that, Christ so dearly bought : 
 Faults long unfelt doth conscience now bewray, 
 Which cares must cure and tears must wash away. 
 
 All ghostly dints that grace at me did dart, 
 Like stubborn rock I forced to recoil ; 
 To other flights an aim I made my heart 
 Whose wounds, then welcome, now have wrought 
 
 my foil. 
 Woe worth the bow, woe worth the archer's might, 
 That draw such arrows to the mark so riffht ! 
 
44 MABT MAGDALEN'S BLUSH. 
 
 To pull them out, to leave them in is death. 
 One to this world, one to the world to come ; 
 Wounds may I wear and draw a doubtful breath. 
 But then my wounds will work a dreadful doom ; 
 And for a world whose pleasures pass a way. 
 I lose a world whose joys are past decay. 
 
 O sense ! O soul ! O hap ! hoped bliss ! 
 
 You woo, you win. you draw, you drive me back ; 
 
 Your cross encount'ring like their combat is, 
 
 That never end but with some deadly wrack ; 
 When sense doth win, the soul doth lose the field, 
 And present haps make future hopes to yield. 
 
 O heaven ! lament, sense robbeth thee of saints. 
 Lament, O souls ! sense spoileth you of grace : 
 Yet sense doth scarce deserve these hard complaints. 
 Love is the chief, sense but the entering place ; 
 Yet grant I must, sense is not free from sin, 
 For thief he is that thief adinitteth in. 
 
45 
 
 MARY MAGDALEN'S COMPLAIXT AT 
 CHRIST'S DEATH. 
 
 ITH my life from life is parted. 
 Death come take thy portion, 
 "Who survives when life is murder d 
 Lives by mere extortion : 
 All that live and not in God, 
 Couch then life in death's abode. 
 
 Silly stars must needs leave shining 
 
 When the sun is shadowed, 
 Borrow'd streams refrain their running 
 
 When head springs are hindered : 
 One that lives by other's breath, 
 Dieth also by his death. 
 
 true life ! sith Thou hast left me, 
 
 Mortal life is tedious ; 
 Death it is to live without Thee, 
 
 Death of all most odious : 
 Turn again or take me to Thee, 
 Let me die or live Thou in me ! 
 
46 MARY MAGDALEN'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 Where the truth once was and is not, 
 
 Shadows are but vanity : 
 Showing want that help they cannot, 
 
 Signs, not salves, of misery. 
 
 Painted meat no hunger feed-. 
 Dying life each death exceeds. 
 
 With my love my life was nestled 
 
 In the sun of happiness ; 
 From my love my life is wrested 
 
 To a world of heaviness : 
 Oh! let love my life remove, 
 Sith I live not where I love! 
 
 O my soul ! that did unloose thee 
 
 From thy sweet captivity. 
 God, not I, did still possess thee, 
 
 His, not mine, thy liberty : 
 Oli ! too happy thrall thou wert, 
 When thy prison was his heart. 
 
 Spiteful Bpear thai break'st this prison, 
 
 Scat «»}' all felicity, 
 Working thus with double treason 
 
 Love's and life's delivery : 
 Though my life thou draw's! away, 
 Maugre thee my love shall Btay, 
 
47 
 
 TIMES GO BY TURNS. 
 
 HE lopped tree in time may grow again ; 
 Most naked plants renew both fruit 
 
 and flower ; 
 The sorest wight may find release of 
 pain, 
 The driest soil suck in some moist'ning shower ; 
 Times go by turns and chances change by course, 
 From foul to fair, from better hap to worse. 
 
 The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow, 
 She draws her favours to the lowest ebb ; 
 Her time hath equal times to come and go, 
 Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web ; 
 No joy so great but runneth to an end, 
 No hap so hard but may in fine amend. 
 
 Not always fall of leaf nor ever spring, 
 No endless night yet not eternal day ; 
 The saddest birds a season find to sing, 
 The roughest storm a calm may soon allay ; 
 Thus with succeeding turns God tempereth all, 
 That man may hope to rise yet fear to fall. 
 
48 
 
 TIMES GO BY TUEXS. 
 
 A chance may win that by mischance was lost : 
 The well that holds no great, takes little fish : 
 In some things all. in all thing's none are cross'd, 
 Few all they need, but none have all they wish : 
 Unmeddled joys here to no man befall. 
 Who least hath some, who most hath never all. 
 
49 
 
 LOOK HOME. 
 
 ETIKED thoughts enjoy their own 
 delights, 
 As beauty doth in self-beholding eye ; 
 Man's mind a mirror is of heavenly 
 sights, 
 A brief wherein all marvels summed lie, 
 Of fairest forms and sweetest shapes the store, 
 Most graceful all, yet thought may grace them more. 
 
 The mind a creature is, yet can create, 
 
 To nature's patterns adding higher skill ; 
 
 Of finest works wit better could the state 
 
 If force of wit had equal power of will : 
 
 Device of man in working hath no end ; 
 
 What thought can think another thought can mend. 
 
 Man's soul of endless beauties image is, 
 
 Drawn by the work of endless skill and might ; 
 
 This skilful might gave many sparks of bliss, 
 
 And to discern this bliss a native light ; 
 
 To frame God's image as His worths required, 
 
 His might, His skill, His word and will conspired. 
 
50 
 
 LOOK HOME. 
 
 All that he had His image should present, 
 All that it should present he could afford, 
 To that he could afford his will was bent, 
 This will was follow* J with performing word ; 
 Let this suffice, by this conceive the rest, 
 He should, he could, he would, he did the best. 
 
51 
 
 FOKTUXE'S FALSEHOOD. 
 
 'X worldly merriments lurketh much 
 misery, 
 Fly fortune's subtleties in baits of 
 % happiness ; 
 Shroud hooks that SAvallowed without recovery. 
 Murder the innocent with mortal heaviness. 
 
 She sootheth appetites with pleasing vanities, 
 Till they be conquered with cloaked tyranny ; 
 Then changing countenance with open enmities, 
 She triumphs over them, scorning their slavery. 
 
 With fawning flattery death's door she openeth, 
 Alluring passengers to bloody destiny ; 
 In offers bountiful in proof she beggareth, 
 Man's ruins reeist'ring her false f elicit v. 
 
 Her hopes are fastened in bliss that vanisheth, 
 Her smarts inherited with sure possession ; 
 Constant in cruelty she never altereth, 
 But from one violence to more oppression. 
 
 To those that follow her favours are measured, 
 As easy premises to hard conclusions ; 
 
52 FORTUNE'S FALSEHOOD. 
 
 With bitter corrosives her joys are seasoned. 
 Her highest benefits are but illusions. 
 
 Her ways a labyrinth of wand'ring passages, 
 Fools' common pilgrimage to cursed deities ; 
 Whose fond devotion and idle menages 
 Are waged with weariness in fruitless drudgeries. 
 
 Blind in her favourites' foolish election, 
 Chance in her arbiter in giving dignities, 
 Her choice of vicious shows most discretion, 
 
 Sith wealth the virtuous might wrest from piety. 
 
 To humble suppliants tyrant most obstinate, 
 She suitors answereth with contrarieties ; 
 Proud with petition, untaught to mitigate 
 Rigour with clemency in hardest cruelties. 
 
 Like tiger fugitive from the ambitious, 
 Like weeping crocodile to scornful enemies, 
 Suing for amity where Bhe is odious, 
 But to her followers Forswearing courtesies. 
 
 Xo wind so changeable, no sea bo wavering, 
 As giddv fortune in reeling vanities ; 
 
 Now mad. now merciful, now fierce, now favouring. 
 In all thin&rs mutable but mutabilities. 
 
53 
 
 SCOEX NOT THE LEAST. 
 
 HERE wards are weak and foes 
 
 Where mightier do assault than do 
 defend, 
 
 The feebler part puts up enforced wrong, 
 And silent sees that speech could not amend. 
 Yet higher powers most think though they repine, 
 "When sun is set, the little stars will shine. 
 
 While pike doth range the silly tench doth fly, 
 And crouch in privy creeks with smaller fish ; 
 Yet pikes are caught when little fish go by, 
 These fleet afloat while those do fill the dish. 
 There is a time even for the worms to creep, 
 And suck the dew while all their foes do sleep. 
 
 The martin cannot ever soar on high, 
 
 Is or greedy greyhound still pursue the chase : 
 
 The tender lark will find a time to fly, 
 
 And fearful hare to run a quiet race. 
 
 He that the growth on cedars did bestow, 
 
 Gave also lowly mushrooms leave to grow. 
 
54 
 
 SCOBX NOT THE LEAST. 
 
 In Aman's pomp poor Mardocheus wept, 
 Yet God did turn his fate upon his foe ; 
 The Lazar pined while Dives' feast was kept, 
 Yet he to heaven, to hell did Dives go. 
 We trample grass and prize the flowers of May, 
 Yet grass is green when flowers do fade away. 
 
55 
 
 A CHILD MY CHOICE. 
 
 ET folly praise that fancy loves, 
 I praise and love that child 
 Whose heart no thought, whose tongue 
 no word, 
 Whose head no deed denied ; 
 
 I praise him most, I love him best, 
 
 All praise and love is his ; 
 While him I love, in him I live, 
 
 And cannot live amiss. 
 
 Love's sweetest mark, land's highest theme, 
 
 Man's most desired light, 
 To love him life, to leave him death, 
 
 To live in him delight. 
 
 He mine by gift, I him by debt, 
 
 Thus each to other due, 
 First friend he was, best friend he is, 
 
 All times will try him true. 
 
 Though young, yet wise ; though small, yet strong ; 
 Though man, yet God he is ; 
 
50 A CHILD MY CHOICE. 
 
 As wise lie knows, as strong he can, 
 As God he loves to bless. 
 
 His knowledge rules, his strength defends, 
 
 His love doth cherish all ; 
 His birth our joy, his life our light, 
 
 His death our end of thrall. 
 
 Alas! he weeps, he sighs, he pants, 
 
 Yet doth his angels sing ; 
 Out of his tears, his sighs and throb-. 
 
 Doth bud a joyful spring. 
 
 Almighty babe, whose tender arms 
 
 Can force all foes to fly, 
 Correct my faults, protect my life, 
 
 Direct me when I die ! 
 
57 
 
 CONTENT AND RICH. 
 
 DWELL in Grace's court, 
 Enrich'd with Virtue's rights ; 
 
 Faith guides my wit, Love leads my will, 
 Hope all my mind delights. 
 
 In lowly vales I mount 
 
 To pleasure's highest pitch ; 
 
 My silly shroud true honour brings, 
 My poor estate to rich. 
 
 My conscience is my crown, 
 Contented thoughts my rest ; 
 
 My heart is happy in itself, 
 My bliss is in my breast. 
 
 Enough I reckon wealth ; 
 
 A mean the surest lot, 
 That lies too high for base contempt. 
 
 Too low for envy's shot. 
 
 My wishes are but few, 
 
 All easy to fulfil, 
 I make the limits of my power 
 
 The bounds unto my will. 
 
58 CONTEXT AXD BICR. 
 
 J have no hope l>ut one, 
 
 Which is of heavenly reign ; 
 
 Effects attend, or not desire, 
 All lower hopes refrain. 
 
 I feel no care of coin, 
 
 Well-doing i- my wealth ; 
 
 M v mind to me an empire i-. 
 "Wliih* grace affordeth health. 
 
 I clip high-climbing thoughts, 
 The wings of swelling pride : 
 
 Their fall is worst, that from the height 
 Of greatest honour> slide. 
 
 Sith sails of largest size 
 
 The storm doth soonest tear, 
 
 I hear so low and small a sail 
 As frecth me from fear. 
 
 I wrestle aot with rage, 
 
 While fun's flame doth hum ; 
 
 It i< in vain to stop the Mreams 
 Until the tide doth turn. 
 
 Bui when the flame IS out. 
 And ebbing wrath doth end, 
 
 I turn a late enlarged toe 
 Into a (piiet friend. 
 
CONTENT AND RICH. 59 
 
 And taught with often proof, 
 
 A temper'd calm I find 
 To be most solace to itself, 
 
 Best cure for angry mind. 
 
 Spare diet is my fare, 
 
 My clothes more fit than fine ; 
 I know I feed and clothe a foe 
 
 That pamper'd would repine. 
 
 I envy not their hap, 
 
 Whom favour doth advance ; 
 I take no pleasure in their pain, 
 
 That have less happy chance. 
 
 To rise by others' fall 
 
 I deem a losing gain ; 
 All states with others' ruins built, 
 
 To ruin run amain. 
 
 No chance of Fortune's calms 
 
 Can cast my comforts down ; 
 When Fortune smiles, I smile to think 
 
 How quickly she will frown. 
 
 And when in froward mood 
 
 She proves an angry foe, 
 Small gain I found to let her come, 
 
 Less loss to let her go. 
 
60 
 
 LOSS IN DELAY. 
 
 HUN delays, they breed remorse ; 
 Take thy time while time is lent 
 thee ; 
 Creeping snails have weakest force, 
 Fly their fault lest thou repent thee. 
 Good is best when soonest wrought, 
 Linger'd labours come to nought. 
 
 Hoist up sail while gale doth last. 
 
 Tide and wind Btay DO man's pleasure : 
 Seek not time when time i> past, 
 
 Sober >\)cvd is wisdom's Leisure. 
 Af'ttT-w its are dearly bought, 
 Let thy forewil guide thy thought. 
 
 Time wears all his leek- before, 
 Take thy hold u]»on his forehead ; 
 
 When lie Hies lie turns no more, 
 And behind his BCalp is naked. 
 Works adjourn'd have many BtaYS, 
 
 Long demurs breed new delays. 
 
LOSS IN DEL AT. 61 
 
 Seek thy salve while sore is green, 
 Fester'd wounds ask deeper lancing ; 
 
 After-cures are seldom seen, 
 
 Often sought scarce ever chancing. 
 
 Time and place give best advice, 
 
 Out of season, out of price. 
 
 Crush the serpent in the head, 
 
 Break ill eggs ere they be hatch'd ; 
 
 Kill bad chickens in the tread, 
 
 Fledged, they hardly can be catch'd. 
 
 In the rising stifle ill, 
 
 Lest it grow against thy will. 
 
 Drops do pierce the stubborn flint, 
 Not by force but often falling ; 
 
 Custom kills with feeble dint, 
 
 More by use than strength and vailing. 
 
 Single sands have little weight, 
 
 Many make a drawing freight. 
 
 Tender twigs are bent with ease, 
 Aged trees do break with bending ; 
 
 Young desires make little prease, 
 
 Growth doth make them past amending. 
 
 Happy man, that soon doth knock 
 
 Babel's babes against the rock ! 
 
62 
 
 LOVE'S SERVILE LOT. 
 
 OVE mistress is of many minds, 
 Yet few know whom they serve 
 They reckon least how little love 
 Their service doth deserve. 
 
 The will she robheth from the wit, 
 The sense from reason's lore ; 
 
 She is delightful in the rind, 
 Corrupted in the core. 
 
 She shroudcth vice in virtue's veil, 
 
 Pretendino- good in ill ; 
 She oifereth jov. affordeth grief, 
 
 A kiss, where she doth kill. 
 
 A honey-shower rains from her lips, 
 
 Sweet lights shine ill her face ; 
 
 She hath the blush of virgin's mind, 
 The mind of viper's race. 
 
 She make-- thee Beek, yet fear to find 
 
 To tind l»u! no! enjoy ; 
 in many frowns BOme gliding smiles. 
 
 She yields, to more annoy. 
 
LOVE'S SERVILE LOT. 63 
 
 She woos thee to come near her fire, 
 
 Yet doth draw it from thee ; 
 Far off she makes thy heart to fry, 
 
 And yet to freeze in thee. 
 
 She letteth fall some luring baits, 
 
 For fools to gather up ; 
 To sweet, to sour, to every taste 
 
 She tempereth her cup. 
 
 Soft souls she hinds in tender twist, 
 
 Small flies in spinner's web ; 
 She sets afloat some luring streams, 
 
 But makes them soon to ebb. 
 
 Her watery eyes have burning force, 
 
 Her floods and flames conspire ; 
 Tears kindle sparks, sobs fuel are, 
 
 And sighs do blow her fire. 
 
 May never was the month of love, 
 
 For May is full of flowers ; 
 But rather April, wet by kind, 
 
 For love is full of showers. 
 
 Like tyrant, cruel wounds she gives, 
 
 Like surgeon, salves she lends ; 
 But salve and sore have equal force, 
 
 For death is both their ends. 
 
64 LOVE'S SERVILE LOT. 
 
 With SOOthed words enthralled souls 
 She chains in servile hands ; 
 
 Her eye in silence hath a speech, 
 Which eve best understands. 
 
 Her little s^Yect hath many sours ; 
 
 Short hap immortal harms : 
 Her loving looks are murdering darts. 
 
 Her songs, bewitching charms. 
 
 Like winter rose and summer ice. 
 Her joys are still untimely ; 
 
 Before her hope, behind remorse. 
 Fair first, in fine unseemly, 
 
 Moods, passions, fancies, jealous fits, 
 
 Attend upon her train : 
 She yieldeth rest without repose, 
 
 A heaven in hellish pain. 
 
 Her house is doth, her door deceit, 
 
 And slippery hope her stairs ; 
 
 [Jnbashfu] boldness bids her guests, 
 
 O" 
 
 And every vice repairs. 
 
 Her diet is of Buch delights 
 .A- please, till they be past ; 
 
 But then, the poison kills the heart 
 That did entice the taste. 
 
LOVE'S SERVILE LOT. 65 
 
 Her sleep in sin doth end in wrath, 
 
 Eemorse rings her awake ; 
 Death calls her up, shame drives her out, 
 
 Despairs her upshot make. 
 
 Plough not the seas, sow not the sands, 
 
 Leave off jour idle pain ; 
 Seek other mistress for your minds, 
 
 Love's service is in vain. 
 
00 
 
 LIFE IS BUT LOSS. 
 
 Y force I live, in wfl] I wish to die ; 
 
 In plaints I pa<s the length of lingering 
 
 days ; 
 Free would my soul from mortal body fly . 
 And tread the track of death's desired ways : 
 Life is but loss where death is deemed gain, 
 And loathed pleasures breed displeasing pain. 
 
 "Who would not die to kill all murd'ring griei 
 
 Or who would live in never-dying fears? 
 "Who would not wish his treasure safe from thieves. 
 
 And quit his heart from pang-, his eyes from tears? 
 Death parteth hut two ever-fighting foes, 
 "Whose civil strife doth work our (.aidless woes. 
 
 Life is a wandering course to doubtful rest : 
 A- ol'i a cursed rise to damning leap. 
 
 As happy race to win a heavenly crest ; 
 None being sure what final fruits to reap: 
 
 And who can like in Mich a life to dwell, 
 
 Whose ways are Btlict to heaven, but wide to hell? 
 
LIFE IS BUT LOSS. 67 
 
 Come, cruel death, why lingerest thou so long ? 
 
 What doth withhold thy dint from fatal stroke ? 
 Now prest I am, alas ! thou dost me wrong, 
 
 To let me live, more anger to provoke : 
 Thy right is had when thou hast stopp'd my breath, 
 Why shouldst thou stay to work my double death ? 
 
 If Saul's attempt in falling on his blade 
 
 As lawful were as eth to put in ure, 
 If Samson's lean a common law were made, 
 
 Of Abel's lot if all that would were sure, 
 Then, cruel death, thou shouldst the tyrant play 
 With none but such as wished for delay. 
 
 Where life is loved thou ready art to kill, 
 
 And to abridge with sudden pangs their joys ; 
 
 Where life is loathed thou wilt not work their will, 
 But dost adjourn their death to their annoy. 
 
 To some thou art a fierce unbidden guest, 
 
 But those that crave thy help thou helpest least. 
 
 Avaunt, viper ! I thy spite defy : 
 
 There is a God that overrules thy force, 
 
 Who can thy weapons to His will apply, 
 And shorten or prolong our brittle course. 
 
 I on His mercy, not thy might, rely ; 
 
 To Him I live, for Him I hope to die. 
 
68 
 
 I DIE ALIVE. 
 
 LIFE ! what lets thee from a quick 
 
 decease ? 
 O death ! what draws thee from a 
 present prey ? 
 My feast is done, my soul would be at ease, 
 My grace is said, O death ! come take away. 
 
 I live, but such a life as ever dies ; 
 
 I die, but such a death as never ends ; 
 My death to end my dying life denies, 
 
 And life my loving death no whit amends. 
 
 Thus still I die, yet still I do remain : 
 My living death by dying lit'*' is fed ; 
 
 Grace more than nature keeps my heart alive, 
 Whose idle hopes ami vain desires are dead. 
 
 Not where I breathe, hut where 1 love, 1 live: 
 
 Not where I love, hut where I am. 1 die: 
 
 The life I wish must future glory give, 
 The death 1 feel Id present dangers lie. 
 
WHAT JOY TO LIVE. 
 
 WAGE no war, yet peace I none enjoy ; 
 I hope, I fear, I fry in freezing cold ; 
 I mount in mirth, still prostrate in 
 annoy ; 
 
 If all the world embrace yet nothing hold. 
 All wealth is want where chiefest wishes fail, 
 Yea life is loathed where love may not prevail. 
 
 For that I love I long, but that I lack ; 
 
 That other love I loathe, and that I have ; 
 All worldly freights to me are deadly wrack, 
 
 Men present hap, I future hopes do crave : 
 They, loving where they live, long life require, 
 To live where best I love, I death desire. 
 
 Here loan is lent for love of filthy gain ; 
 
 Most friends befriend themselves with friendship's 
 show ; 
 Here plenty peril, want doth breed disdain ; 
 
 Cares common are, joys faulty, short and few ; 
 Here honour envied, meanness is despised ; 
 Sin deemed solace, virtue little prized. 
 
70 WHAT JOY TO LIVE. 
 
 Here beauty is a bait that, BwaHowM, chokes, 
 A treasure sought still in the owner's harms ; 
 
 A light that eyes to murdering sights provokes, 
 A grace that souls enchant- with mortal charms; 
 
 A luring gain to Cupid's fiery slights, 
 
 A baleful bliss that damns where it delights. 
 
 Oh! who would live so many deaths to try? 
 
 Where will doth wish that wisdom doth reprove, 
 Where nature craves that grace must need- deny, 
 
 Where sense doth like that reason cannot love, 
 Where best in show in final proof is worst, 
 Where pleasures upshot is to die accurst ? 
 
71 
 
 LIFE'S DEATH, LOVE'S LIFE. 
 
 HO lives in love, loves least to live, 
 And long delays doth rue, 
 If Him he love by whom he lives, 
 To whom all love is due. 
 
 "Who for our love did choose to live, 
 
 And was content to die ; 
 Who loved our love more than His life, 
 
 And love with life did buy. 
 
 Let us in life, yea with our life, 
 
 Eequite His living love ; 
 For best we live when best we love, 
 
 If love our life remove. 
 
 Where love is hot life hateful is, 
 Their grounds do not agree ; 
 
 Love where it loves, life where it lives, 
 Desireth most to be. 
 
 And sith love is not where it lives, 
 
 Nor liveth where it loves, 
 Love hateth life that holds it back, 
 
 And death it best approves. 
 
72 LIFE'S DEATH, LOVE'S LIFE. 
 
 For seldom is He won in life 
 Whom love doth most desire ; 
 
 If won in love, yet not enjoy \1, 
 Till mortal life expire. 
 
 Life out of earth hath no abode, 
 In earth love hath no place ; 
 
 Love settled hath her joys in heaven. 
 In earth life all her grace. 
 
 Mourn, therefore, no true lover's death, 
 
 Life only him annoy- ; 
 And when he taketh leave of life, 
 
 Then love begins his joys. 
 
AT HOME EN HEAVENT, 
 
 $@%gfii MB A I how long shah* Tells thy 
 graces shroud? 
 
 ^\ II ■- .' "-"'.-• I 
 
 <-ot - 
 
 VT^n -riH -v . "I-- ..>■; li- ~ r.:'. ;I;.; :. 
 
 Oh that a star, more fit for angels' ejf - 
 Should pine in earth, not shine abore the ski 
 
 Thy ch: ?:.y ':. :;.:::v :zh:"i ::■: .-:■ :■:■ G: .: : 
 
 I: :'-?l~~ '. K::z : : '.! ■..".:- ■::.."..."."-.. 
 I n His will with man to make abode ; 
 
 His sword, and did His wrath remove: 
 
 : :■■■:,. \ V,:.y — ;::-- :: :he dfld. 
 
 This :.::'.: :-. 
 
 An.: hi : Hhr. 
 This -_::..'-. II::.: .:::!: :::::::" 
 
 G; .hiv-vl :■:■ ;:-■:: : 
 l with ns in exile, 
 es in His style. 
 
74 AT HOME IN 1IEA VEN. 
 
 This brought Him from the ranks of heavenly quires 
 Into this vale of tears and cursed soil ; 
 
 From flowers of grace into a world of briars, 
 From life to death, from bliss to baleful toil. 
 
 This made Him wander in our pilgrim weed, 
 
 And taste our torments to relieve our need. 
 
 O soul ! do not thy noble thoughts abase, 
 To lose thy loves in any mortal wight ; 
 
 Content thy eye at home with native grace, 
 Sith God Himself is ravish'd with thy sight ; 
 
 If on thy beauty God enamour'd be, 
 
 Base is thy love of any less than He. 
 
 Give not assent to muddy-minded skill, 
 That deems the feature of a pleasing face 
 
 To be the sweetest bait to lure the will ; 
 
 Not valuing right the worth of ghostly grace ; 
 
 Let Grod'fi and angels' censure win belief. 
 
 That of all beauties judge our souls the chief. 
 
 Queen Hester was of rare and peerless hue, 
 
 And Judith once for beauty bare the vaunt ; 
 But he that could our souls' endowments view, 
 
 Would soon to soul- the crown of beauty grant. 
 () bouII out of thyself seek God alone: 
 
 Grace more than thine, but God's, the world hathnonc. 
 
LEWD LOVE IS LOSS. 
 
 ISDEEMIXG eye ! that stoopest to the 
 lure 
 Of mortal worths, not worth so worthy 
 love ; 
 All heauties base, all graces are impure, 
 
 That do thy erring thoughts from God remove. 
 Sparks to the fire, the beams yield to the sun, 
 All grace to God, from whom all graces run. 
 
 If picture move, more should the pattern please ; 
 
 Xo shadow can with shadow'd thing compare, 
 And fairest shapes, whereon our loves do seize, 
 
 But folly signs of God's high beauty are. 
 Go, starving sense, feed thou on earthly mast ; 
 True love is heaven, seek thou thy sweet repast. 
 
 Glean not in barren soil these offal ears, 
 
 Sith reap thou may'st whole harvests of delight ; 
 
 Base joys in griefs, bad hopes do end in fears, 
 Lewd love in loss, evil peace in deadly fight : 
 
 God's love alone doth end in endless ease, 
 
 Whose joys in hope, whose hope concludes in peace. 
 
76 LEWD LOVE IS LOSS. 
 
 Let not the luring train of fancy's trap, 
 
 Or gracious features, proofs of Nature's skill, 
 
 Lull Reason's force asleep in Error's lap, 
 Or draw thy wit to bent of wanton will. 
 
 The fairest flowers have not the sweetest smell ; 
 
 A seeming heaven proves oft a damning hell. 
 
 Self-pleasing souls, that play with beauty's bait, 
 In shining shroud may swallow fatal hook; 
 
 Where eager sight on semblant fair doth wait, 
 A lock it proves, that first was but a look: 
 
 The fish with ease into the net doth glide, 
 
 But to get out the way is not so wide. 
 
 So long the fly doth dally with the flame. 
 
 Until his singed wings do force hi- tall ; 
 So long the eye doth follow fancy's game, 
 
 Till love hath left the heart in heavy thrall. 
 Soon may the mind be cast in Cupid's jail, 
 But hard it is imprison'd thoughts to bail. 
 
 Oh! loathe that love whose final aim is hist. 
 
 Moth of the mind, eclipse of reason's light : 
 The grave of grace, the mole of Nature's rust, 
 
 The wrack of wit. the wrong of every right. 
 In sum, an ill whose harm- no tongue can toll ; 
 
 In which to live is death, to die is boll. 
 
77 
 
 LOVE'S GARDEN GEIEF. 
 
 AIX loves, avaunt ! infamous is your 
 pleasure, 
 Your joys deceit ; 
 Your jewels jests, and worthless trash 
 your treasure, 
 Fools' common bait. 
 Your palace is a prison that allureth 
 To sweet mishap, and rest that pain procureth. 
 
 Your garden grief hedged in with thorns of envy 
 
 And stakes of strife ; 
 Your allies error gravel'd with jealousy 
 
 And cares of life ; 
 Your branches seats enwrapp'd with shades of sad- 
 ness ; 
 Your arbours breed rouo-li fits of raffins: madness. 
 
 Your beds are sown with seeds of all iniquity 
 
 And poisoning weeds, 
 Whose stalks ill thoughts, whose leaves words full 
 of vanity, 
 
 Whose fruits misdeeds ; 
 Whose sap is sin, whose force and operation, 
 To banish grace and work the soul's damnation. 
 
78 LOVE'S GARDEX GRIEF. 
 
 Your trees are dismal plants of pining corrosives, 
 
 Whose root is ruth, 
 Whose bark is bale, whose timber stubborn fantasies, 
 
 Whose pith untruth ; 
 On winch in lieu of birds whose voice delightcth, 
 Of guilty conscience screeching note anrighteth. 
 
 Your coolest summer gales are scalding sighings, 
 
 Your showers arc tears ; 
 Your sweetest smell the stench of sinful living, 
 
 Your favours fears ; 
 Your gard'ner Satan, all you reap is misery, 
 Your gain remorse and loss of all felicity. 
 
79 
 
 FROM FORTUNE'S REACH. 
 
 ET fickle Fortune run her blindest race, 
 I settled have an unrenioved mind ; 
 I scorn to be [the] game of Fancy's 
 chase, 
 
 Or vane to show the change of every wind. 
 Light giddy humours, stinted in no rest, 
 Still change their choice, yet never choose the best. 
 
 My choice was guided by foresightful heed, 
 
 It was averred with approving will ; 
 It shall be follow'd with performing deed, 
 
 And seal'd with vow, till death the chooser kill. 
 Yet death, though final date of vain desires, 
 Ends not my choice, which with no time expires. 
 
 To beauty's fading bliss I am no thrall ; 
 
 I bury not my thoughts in metal mines ; 
 I aim not at such fame as feareth fall ; 
 
 I seek and find a light that ever shines : 
 Whose glorious beams display such heavenly sights, 
 As yield my soul the sum of all delights. 
 
80 
 
 FROM FOETUXE'S BEACH. 
 
 My light to love, my love to light cloth guide, — 
 To life that lives by love, and loveth light ; 
 
 By love to one, to whom all loves are tied 
 By duest debt, and never equalled right : 
 
 Eyes' light, heart's love, soul's truest life He is, 
 
 ( Jonsorting in three joys one perfect bliss. 
 
81 
 
 A FANCY TURNED TO A SINNER'S 
 COMPLAINT.* 
 
 E that his mirth hath lost, 
 Whose comfort is to rue ; 
 Whose hope is salve, whose faith is 
 crazed, 
 Whose trust is found untrue ; 
 
 If he have held them dear, 
 
 And cannot cease to moan, 
 Come let him take his place by me, 
 
 He shall not rue alone. 
 
 But if the smallest sweet 
 
 Be niix'd with all his sour ; 
 If in the day, the month, the year, 
 
 He feel one lighting; hour ; 
 
 Then rest he with himself, 
 
 He is no mate for me, 
 "Whose time in tears, whose race in ruth, 
 
 Whose life in death must be. 
 
 * In MS. ,£ Master Dier's Fancy turned to a Sinner's 
 Complaint.'' 
 
 G 
 
82 A FANCY TURXED TO 
 
 Yet not the wished death, 
 That feels in plaint or lack, 
 
 That making- free the better part 
 Is only nature's wrack. 
 
 Oh no ! that were too well : 
 My death is of the mind, 
 
 That always yields extremes! pang 
 Yet threatens worse behind. 
 
 As one that lives in show, 
 And inwardly doth die, 
 "Whose knowledge is a bloody field, 
 
 Where virtue slain doth lie : 
 
 AVhose heart the altar is, 
 And host a God to move. 
 
 From whom my evil fears revenge, 
 His good doth promise love. 
 
 My fancies are like thorns 
 
 In which I go by uighl : 
 My frighted wits arc like a host 
 
 That force hath put to flight 
 
 My aense is passion's Bpy, 
 My thoughts Like ruins old. 
 
 Which show how fair the building WBS 
 
 While grace did it uphold. 
 
A SINNERS COMPLAINT. 83 
 
 And still before mine eyes 
 
 My mortal fall they lay ; 
 Whom grace and virtue once advanced, 
 
 Now sin hath cast away. 
 
 Oh thoughts ! no thoughts but wounds, 
 
 Sometime the seat of joy, 
 Sometimes the store of quiet rest, 
 
 But now of all annoy. 
 
 I sow'd the soil of peace, 
 
 My bliss was in the spring ; 
 And day by day the fruit I eat 
 
 That virtue's tree did bring. 
 
 To nettles now my corn, 
 
 My field is turn'd to flint, 
 Where I a heavy harvest reap 
 
 Of cares that never stint. 
 
 The peace, the rest, the life, 
 
 That I enjoy 'd of yore, 
 Were happy lot, but by their loss 
 
 My smart doth sting the more. 
 
 So to unhappy men, 
 
 The best frames to the worst ; 
 Oh time ! oh place ! where thus I fell ; 
 
 Dear then, but now accurst. 
 
84 A FANCY TURNED TO 
 
 In was stands my delight, 
 
 In is and shall my woe ; 
 My horror fasten'd in the yea, 
 
 My hope hang'd in the no. 
 
 Unworthy of relief, 
 
 That craved it too late, 
 Too late I find, I find too well, 
 
 Too well stood my estate. 
 
 Behold, such is the end 
 
 That pleasure doth procure, 
 
 Of nothing else but care and plaint 
 Can she the mind assure. 
 
 Forsaken first by grace, 
 
 By pleasure now forgotten ; 
 
 Her pain I feel, but grace's wage 
 Have others from me gotten. 
 
 Then grace where is the joy 
 
 That makes thy torments sweet ? 
 
 Where is the cause thai many thought 
 Their deaths through thee but meet ? 
 
 Where thy disdain of Bin, 
 Thy secret sweet delight? 
 
 Thy Bparkfl of bliss, thy heavenly rajB, 
 That bhined erst so blight ? 
 
A SINNER'S COMPLAINT. 85 
 
 Oh ! that they were not lost, 
 
 Or I could it excuse ; 
 Oh ! that a dream of feigned loss 
 
 My judgment did abuse ! 
 
 frail inconstant flesh ! 
 Soon wrapt in every gin, 
 
 Soon wrought thus to betray thy soul, 
 And plunge thyself in sin. 
 
 Yet have I but the fault, 
 
 And not the faulty one, 
 Nor can I rid from me the mate 
 
 That forceth me to moan. 
 
 To moan a sinner's case, 
 
 Than which was never worse, 
 In prince or poor, in young or old, 
 
 In bliss or full of curse. 
 
 Yet God's must I remain, 
 
 By death, by wrong, by shame ; 
 
 1 cannot blot out of my heart 
 
 That grace wrought in His name. 
 
 I cannot set at nought 
 
 Whom I have held so dear ; 
 I cannot make Him seem afar 
 
 That is indeed so near. 
 
86 A FANCY TURNED TO 
 
 Not that I look henceforth 
 For love that erst I found : 
 
 Sith that I brake my plighted troth 
 To build on fickle ground. 
 
 Vet that shall never fail 
 
 Which my faith has in hand ; 
 
 I gave my vow, my vow gave me, 
 Both vow and gift shall stand. 
 
 But since that I have sinn'd, 
 And scourge none is to ill, 
 
 I yield me captive to my cm 
 My hard fate to fulfil. 
 
 The solitary wood 
 
 My city shall become ; 
 The darkest dens shall be my lodge, 
 
 In which I vest or come. 
 
 A Bandy plot my hoard. 
 
 The worms my feast shall he. 
 Wherewith my carcass shall be fed, 
 
 I'ntil they feed on me. 
 
 My tears shall be my wine, 
 
 My bed a crag jy rock ; 
 My harmony the Berpent'a hi 
 
 The screeching owl my clock. 
 
A SINNER'S COMPLAINT. 87 
 
 My exercise, remorse 
 
 And doleful sinners' lays ; 
 My book, remembrance of my crimes, 
 
 And faults of former days. 
 
 My walk, the path of plaint, 
 
 My prospect into hell 
 Where Judas and his cursed crew 
 
 In endless pain do dwell. 
 
 And though I seem to use 
 
 The feigning poet's style, 
 To figure forth my careful plight, 
 
 My fall and my exile. 
 
 Yet is my grief not feign'd, 
 
 Wherein I starve and pine ; 
 Who feeleth most shall think it least, 
 
 If his compare with mine. 
 
88 
 
 DAVID'S PECCAVI * 
 
 >X eaves sole sparrow Bits not more alone, 
 Xor mourning pelican in desert wild, 
 Than silly I that solitary moan. 
 From highest hopes to hardest hap 
 exiled : 
 Sometime, oh, blissful time ! was virtue's meed 
 Aim to my thoughts, guide to my word and deed. 
 
 But fears now are my feres, grief my delight. 
 My tears my drink, my famish'd thoughts my bread 
 
 Day full of dump-, nurse of unrest the night. 
 My garments give a bloody field my bed ; 
 
 My sleep is rather death than death's ally. 
 
 Yet kill'd with murdering pangs I cannot die. 
 
 This is the change of my ill charged choice 
 Ruth for my rest, for comforts care I find : 
 
 To pleasing tunes succeed a plaining voice. 
 The doleful echo of my wailing mind : 
 
 Which, taught to know the worth of virtue's joys. 
 
 Doth hate itself, for loving fancy's tOJB, 
 
 * In Dona? Edition, 4i St. lYnrV.*" 
 
DAVID'S PEC C AVI. 89 
 
 If wiles of wit had overwrought my will, 
 Or subtle trains misled my steps away, 
 
 My foil had found excuse in want of skill, 
 111 deed I might, though not ill doom, deny. 
 
 But wit and will must now confess with shame, 
 
 Both deed and doom to have deserved blame. 
 
 In fancy, deem'd fit guide to lead my way, 
 And as I deem'd I did pursue her track, 
 
 Wit lost his aim and will was fancy's prey ; 
 The rebel won, the ruler went to wrack. 
 
 But now sith fancy did with folly end, 
 
 Wit bought with loss, will taught by wit will mend. 
 
90 
 
 SIX'S HEAVY LOAD. 
 
 LORD ! my sins doth overcharge thy 
 
 breast, 
 The poise thereof doth force thy knees 
 to how ; 
 Yea, flat thou fallest with my faults oppress'd, 
 
 And bloody sweat runs trickling from thy brow : 
 But had they not to earth thus pressed thee, 
 Much more they would in hell have pester'd me. 
 
 This globe of earth doth thy one finger prop, 
 The world thou dost within thy hand embrace : 
 
 Yet all this weight of sweat drew not a drop, 
 Nor made thee bow, much less Tall on thy face ; 
 
 But now thou hast a load so heavy found. 
 
 Thai makes thee how, yea iall flat to the ground. 
 
 O Sin! how huge and heavy is thy weight, 
 That weighesl more than all the world beside : 
 
 Of which when Christ had taken in Hi- freight, 
 
 The poise thereof Hi- flesh could not abide. 
 Alas! if God Himself sink under sin, 
 
SITS HEAVY LOAD. 91 
 
 First flat thou felFst where earth did thee receive, 
 In closet pure of Mary's virgin breast ; 
 
 And now thou falTst of earth to take thy leave, 
 Thou kissest it as cause of thy unrest : 
 
 O loving Lord ! that so dost love thy foe 
 
 As thus to kiss the ground where he doth go ! 
 
 Thou, minded in thy heaven our earth to wear, 
 Doth prostrate now thy heaven our earth to bless ; 
 
 As God to earth thou often wert severe, 
 
 As man thou seal'st a peace with bleeding kiss : 
 
 For as of souls thou common father art, 
 
 So is she mother of man's other part. 
 
 She shortly was to drink the dearest blood, 
 And yield thy soid away to Satan's cave ; 
 
 She shortly was thy corse in tomb to shroud, 
 And with them all thy Deity to have ; 
 
 Now then in one thou jointly yieldest all, 
 
 That several to earth should shortly fall. 
 
 O prostrate Christ ! erect my crooked mind ; 
 
 Lord ! let thy fall my flight from earth obtain ; 
 Or if I still must needs in earth be shrined, 
 
 Then, Lord ! on earth come fall yet once again ; 
 And either yield with me in earth to lie, 
 Or else with thee to take me to the sky ! 
 
92 
 
 JOSEPH'S AMAZEMENT. 
 
 1 1 1 EN ( Ihrist, by growth, disclosed His 
 
 descent 
 Into the pure receipt of Mary's breast, 
 Poor Joseph, stranger yet to God's 
 intent, 
 With doubts of jealous thoughts was soreoppress'd ; 
 And, wrought with divers fits of fear and love, 
 He neither can her free nor faulty prove. 
 
 Now sense, the wakeful spy of jealous mind. 
 
 By strong conjectures deemeth her denied ; 
 But love, in doom of things best loved blind. 
 
 Thinks rather sense deceived than her with child ; 
 Yet proofs so pregnant were, that no pretence 
 Could cloke a thing so clear and plain in sense. 
 
 Then Joseph, daunted with a deadly wound. 
 
 Let loose the reins to undeserved grief; 
 His heart did throb, his eyes in tears were drown'd, 
 
 His life a Loss, death seem'd his best relief; 
 The pleasing relish of his former love 
 In gallish thoughts to taste doth bitter prove. 
 
JOSEPH'S AMAZEMENT. 93 
 
 One foot he often setteth forth of door, 
 
 But t'other's loath uncertain ways to tread ; 
 
 He takes his fardel for his needful store, 
 
 He casts his inn where first he means to hed ; 
 
 But still ere he can frame his feet to go, 
 
 Love winneth time till all conclude in no. 
 
 Sometime, grief adding force, he doth depart, 
 He will, against his will, keep on his pace ; 
 
 But straight remorse so racks his ruing heart, 
 That hasting thoughts yield to a pausing space ; 
 
 Then mighty reasons press him to remain, 
 
 She whom he flies doth win him home again. 
 
 But when his thought, by sight of his abode, 
 Presents the sign of misesteemed shame, 
 
 Repenting every step that back he trod, 
 
 Tears drown the guides, the tongue the feet doth 
 blame ; 
 
 Thus warring with himself a field he fights, 
 
 Where every wound upon the giver lights. 
 
 And was my love, quoth he, so lightly prized ? 
 
 Or was our sacred league so soon forgot ? 
 Could vows be void, could virtues be despised ? 
 
 Could such a spouse be stain'd with such a spot ? 
 O wretched Joseph ! that hast lived so long, 
 Of faithful love to reap so grievous wrong ! 
 
94 JOSEPH'S AMAZEMENT. 
 
 Could such a worm breed in so sweet a wood ? 
 
 Coidd in so chaste demeanour lurk untruth ? 
 Could vice lie hid where virtue's image stood? 
 
 Where hoary sagcness graced tender youth ? 
 Where can affiance rest to rest -'Tine? 
 In virtue's fairest seat faith is not sure. 
 
 All proofs did promise hope a pledge of grace, 
 Whose good might have repaid the deepest ill ; 
 
 Sweet signs of purest thoughts in saintly face 
 Assured the eye of her unstained will. 
 
 Yet in this seeming lustre seem to lie 
 
 Such crimes for which the law condemns to die. 
 
 Eut Joseph's word shall never work her woe : 
 I wish her leave to live, not doom to die; 
 
 Though fortune mine, yet am I not her foe, 
 She to herself less loving i- than I : 
 
 The mosl 1 will, the less I can. is this, 
 
 Sill) none may salve, to >hun that is amiss. 
 
 Exile my borne, the wilds Bhall be my walk. 
 
 Complaints my joy, my music mourning lays | 
 With pensive griefs in Bilence will 1 talk. 
 
 Sad thoughts shall he my guides in sorrow's ways 
 
 This course best Buits the care of careless mind, 
 That Beeks to lose what most it joy*d to find. 
 
JOSEPH'S AMAZEMENT. 95 
 
 Like stocked tree whose branches all do fade, 
 Whose leaves do fall and perish'd fruit decay ; 
 
 Like herb that grows in cold and barren shade, 
 Where darkness drives all quick'ning heat away ; 
 
 So must I die, cut from my root of joy, 
 
 And thrown in darkest shades of deep annoy. 
 
 But who can fly from that his heart doth feel ? 
 
 What change of place can change implanted pain ? 
 Removing moves no hardness from the steel ; 
 
 Sick hearts, that shift no fits, shift rooms in vain. 
 Where thought can see, what helps the closed eye ? 
 Where heart pursues, what gains the foot to fly ? 
 
 Yet still I tread a maze of doubtful end ; 
 
 I go, I come, she draws, she drives away ; 
 She wounds, she heals, she doth both mar and mend, 
 
 She makes me seek and shun, depart and stay ; 
 She is a friend to love, a foe to loathe, 
 And in suspense I hang between them both. 
 
96 
 
 NEW PRINCE, NEW POMP. 
 
 EIIOLD a silly tender babe, 
 In freezing winter night, 
 In homely manger trembling lies : 
 Alas ! a piteous sight. 
 
 The inns are full, no man will yield 
 
 This little pilgrim bed ; 
 But forced he is with silly beasts 
 
 In crib to shroud his head. 
 
 Despise him not for lying there, 
 First what he is enquire ; 
 
 An orient pearl is often found 
 In depth of dirty mire. 
 
 Weigh not his crib, his wooden dish, 
 Nor beast that by him feed ; 
 
 Weigh not his mother's poor attire, 
 Nor Joseph's simple weed. 
 
 This stable is a prince's court, 
 The crib his chair of state ; 
 
 The beasts are parcel of his pomp, 
 The wooden dish his plate. 
 
NEW PRINCE, NEW POMP. 
 
 The persons in that poor attire 
 
 His royal liveries wear ; 
 
 The Prince Himself is come from heaven, 
 
 This pomp is praised there. 
 
 With joy approach, O Christian wight ! 
 Do homage to thy King ; 
 And highly praise this humble pomp 
 Which He from heaven doth brins:. 
 
 'J 7 
 
98 
 
 THE BUKXIXG BABE. 
 
 Slinhoarywinter'snightstoodshiYering 
 
 in the snow, 
 Surprised I waa with sudden heat which 
 made my heart to glow : 
 And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was 
 
 near, 
 A pretty babe all burning bright did in the air appear. 
 Who scorched with exceeding heat Buch floods of 
 
 tears did shed, 
 As though Ili- floods should quench Hi- flames with 
 
 what Hi- tears were fed : 
 Alas ! quoth Ee, but newly born in fiery heat- of fry. 
 Set none approach to warm their heart- «ir foci my 
 
 tiro hut 1 : 
 My faultless breast the furnace i-. the fuel wounding 
 
 thorns ; 
 Love is the fire and Bighs the smoke, the ashes .-hame 
 
 and scorns ; 
 
 The fuel Justice Layeth on. and Mercy blows the coals ; 
 The metal in this furnace wrought are men's defiled 
 
 BOulfl : 
 
THE BURXIXG BABE. 
 
 99 
 
 For which, as now on fire I am, to work them to 
 their good, 
 
 So will I melt into a bath, to wash them in my blood : 
 
 With this lie vanish'd out of sight, and swiftly shrunk 
 away, 
 
 And straight I called unto mind that it was Christ- 
 mas-day. 
 
100 
 
 NEW HEAVEN, NEW WAR. 
 
 OME to your heaven, you heavenly 
 quires ! 
 Earth hath the heaven of your desires; 
 Remove your dwelling to your God, 
 A stall is now His host abode ; 
 Sith men their homage doth deny. 
 Come, angels, all their faidts supply. 
 
 His chilling cold doth heat require, 
 Come, seraphim, in lieu of fire ; 
 This little ark no cover hath, 
 Let cherubs' wings his body swathe ; 
 Come, Raphael, this babe must eat, 
 Provide our little Toby meat. 
 
 Let Gabriel he n<»w Bis groom, 
 Thai first took up 1 Ii- earthly room ; 
 Let Michael Btand in Hi- defence, 
 Whom love hath link'd to feeble -mse ; 
 Let graces rock when He doth cry, 
 And angels -imf this Lullaby. 
 
NEW HEAVEN, NEW WAR. 101 
 
 The same you saw in heavenly seat. 
 Is He that now suck- Mary's teat ; 
 Agnize your King a mortal wight. 
 His borrow'd weed lets not your sight : 
 Come, kiss the manger where He lies ; 
 That is your bliss above the skies. 
 
 This little babe so few (.lays old. 
 
 Is come to rifle Satan's fold ; 
 
 All hell doth at His presence quake, 
 
 Though He Himself for cold do shake ; 
 
 For in this weak unarmed wise 
 
 The gates of hell He will surprise. 
 
 With tears He fights and wins the field. 
 His naked breast stands for a shield, 
 His battering shot are babish cries,. 
 His arrows, looks of weeping eyes. 
 His martial ensigns, cold and need, 
 And feeble flesh His warrior's steed. 
 
 His camp is pitched in a stall. 
 
 His bulwark but a broken wall, 
 
 His crib His trench, hay-stalks His stakes. 
 
 Of shepherds He His muster makes ; 
 
 And thus, as sure His foe to wound, 
 
 The angels' trumps alarum sound. 
 
102 
 
 NEW HEAVEN. NEW WAX. 
 
 My bouI, with Christ join thou in fight 
 Stick to the tents that He hath pighl ; 
 Within His crih is surest ward, 
 
 This little babe will be thy guard : 
 If thou wilt foil thy foes with joy, 
 Then flit not from this heavenly boy. 
 
MJ30NI2E: 
 
 OR CERTAIN EXCELLENT POEMS 
 
 AND SPIRITUAL HYMNS. 
 
 COMPOSED BY 
 
 E. S. 
 
 LONDON: 
 PRINTED BY J. HAVILAND. 
 
 1634. 
 
105 
 
 THE VIKGIN MARY'S CONCEPTION. 
 
 UK, second Eve puts on her mortal 
 shroud, 
 Earth breeds a heaven for God's new 
 dwelling-place ; 
 Now riseth up Elias' little cloud, 
 
 That growing shall distil the showers of grace ; 
 Her being now begins, who, ere she ends, 
 Shall bring our good that shall our evil mend. 
 
 Both grace and nature did their force imite 
 To make this babe the sum of all their best ; 
 
 Our most her least, our million but her mite, 
 She was at easiest rate worth all the rest : 
 
 What grace to men or angels God did part, 
 
 Was all united in this infant's heart. 
 
 Four only wights bred without fault are named, 
 And all the rest conceived were in sin ; 
 
 Without both man and wife was Adam framed, 
 Of man, but not of wife, did Eve begin ; 
 
 Wife without touch of man Christ's mother Avas, 
 
 Of man and wife this babe was bred in grace. 
 
IOC* 
 
 HEE NATIVITY. 
 
 OY in the rising- of our orient star 
 That shall bring forth the sun that 
 
 lent her light; 
 Joy in the peace that shall conclude 
 our war, 
 And soon rchate the edge of Satan's spite : 
 Loadstar of all engulf d in worldly waves, 
 The card and compass that from shipwreck saves. 
 
 The patriarchs and prophets were the flowers 
 Which time by course of ago did distil. 
 
 And call'd into this little cloud the showers 
 
 Whose gracious drops the world with joy shall fill ; 
 
 Whose moisture suppli'th every soul with grace. 
 
 And bringeth life to Adam'- dying race. 
 
 For God in earth she is the royal throne, 
 
 The chosen cloth to make I lis mortal weed; 
 
 The quarry to cut out our corner-stone, 
 
 Soil full of. vet \'vcc from, all mortal seed : 
 For heavenly flower she i> the Jesse rod. 
 The child of man, the parent of a tied. 
 
107 
 
 HER ESPOUSALS. 
 
 TFE did she live, yet virgin did she die, 
 Untouch'd of man, yet mother of a 
 son ; 
 To save herself and child from fatal lie, 
 To end the web whereof the thread was spun, 
 In marriage knots to Joseph she was tied, 
 Unwonted works with wonted veils to hide. 
 
 God lent His paradise to Joseph's care, 
 Wherein he was to plant the tree of life ; 
 
 This Son of Joseph's child the title bare, 
 
 Just cause to make the mother Joseph's wife. 
 
 Oh ! blessed man, betroth'd to such a spouse, 
 
 More bless'd to live with such a child in house ! 
 
 No carnal love this sacred league procured, 
 All vain delights were for from their assent ; 
 
 Though both in wedlock bands themselves assured, 
 Yet chaste by vow they seal'd their chaste intent : 
 
 Thus had she virgins', wives', and widows' crown, 
 
 And by chaste childbirth doubled her renown. 
 
10S 
 
 THE VIRGIN'S SALUTATION. 
 
 PELL Eva back and Ave shall you find, 
 The first began, the last reversed our 
 harms ; 
 An angel's witching words did Eva 
 blind, 
 An angel's Ave disenchants the charms : 
 Death first by woman's weakness enterM in, 
 In woman's virtue life doth now begin. 
 
 O virgin breast ! the heavens to thee incline. 
 
 In thee their joy and sovereign they agnize: 
 Too mean their glory is to match with thine. 
 
 Whose chaste receipt God mure than heaven did 
 prize. 
 Hail! fairest heaven, that heaven and earth did bless, 
 Where virtue's Btar God's bud of justice is! 
 
 With haughty mind to Godhead man aspired, 
 And was by pride from place of pleasure chased ; 
 
 With Loving mind our manhood God desired, 
 And as by love in greater pleasure placed ; 
 
 Man labouring to ascend procured our tall, 
 
 God yielding to descend cut off our thrall. 
 
109 
 
 THE VISITATION. 
 
 RO CLAIMED queen and mother of a 
 God, 
 The light of earth, the sovereign of 
 saints, 
 With pilgrim foot up tiring hills she trod, 
 
 And heavenly style with handmaids' toil acquaints : 
 Her youth to age, herself to sick she lends, 
 Her heart to God, to neighbour hand she bends. 
 
 A prince she is, and mightier prince doth bear, 
 Yet pomp of princely train she would not have ; 
 
 But doubtless heavenly quires attendant were, 
 Her child from harm, herself from fall to save : 
 
 Word to the voice, song to the tune she brings, 
 
 The voice her word, the tune her ditty sings. 
 
 Eternal lights enclosed in her breast 
 
 Shot out such piercing beams of burning love, 
 
 That when her voice her cousin's ears possess'd, 
 The force thereof did force her babe to move : 
 
 With secret signs the children greet each other, 
 
 But open praise each leaveth to his mother. 
 
no 
 
 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST.* 
 
 EHOLD the father is his daughter's 
 The bird that built the nest is hatch'd 
 therein, 
 The old of years an hour hath not 
 outrun, 
 Eternal life to live doth now begin, 
 The word is dumb, the mirth of heaven doth weep, 
 Might feeble is, and force doth faintly creep. 
 
 < > dying souls ! behold your living spring ! 
 
 () dazzled eves! behold your sun of grace! 
 Dull ears attend what word this word doth brine; ! 
 
 Up, heavy heart-, with joy your joy embrace ! 
 From death, from dark, from deafness, from despairs, 
 This life, this light, this word, this joy repairs. 
 
 Gift better than Eimself God doth not know, 
 Gin" better than his God no man can see ; 
 
 This gift doth here the giver given bestow, 
 Gift to this gift let each receiver be: 
 
 God Is my gift, Himself lie freely gave me, 
 
 God's gift am [, and none but God shall have me. 
 
 ' Transferred from 1 1 » » - Edition of " St. Peter's Com- 
 plaint" of 1634. 
 
THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. Ill 
 
 Man alter'd was by sin from man to beast ; 
 
 Beast's food is hay, hay is all mortal flesh ; 
 Now God is flesh, and lives in manger press'd, 
 
 As hay the brutest sinner to refresh : 
 Oh happy field wherein this fodder grew, 
 "Whose taste doth us from beasts to men renew ! 
 
112 
 
 HIS CIRCUMCISION. 
 
 HE head is lanced to work the body's 
 
 cure. 
 With ang'rine salve it smarts to heal 
 
 our wound : 
 
 To faultless Son, from all offences pure, 
 
 The faulty vassal's scourges do redound : 
 The judge is cast, the guilty to acquit, 
 The sun defaced, to lend the star his lio-ht. 
 
 The vein of life distilleth drops of grace. 
 
 Our rock gives issue to a heavenly spring ; 
 Tears from His eyes, Wood streams from wounded 
 place. 
 
 With Bhowers to heaven of joy a harvest bring: 
 This sacred dew let angels gather up, 
 Such dainty drops best tit their nectar'd cup. 
 
 With weeping eyes His mother rued His smart. 
 
 If blood from him, tears came from her as i'a>t ; 
 
 The knife thai cut Ili- flesh did pierce her heart, 
 
 The pain thai Jesu fell did Mary taste ; 
 His life and hei's hung by one fatal twist, 
 No blow that hit the Son the mother miss'd. 
 
113 
 
 THE EPIPHANY. 
 
 blaze the rising of this glorious sun 
 A glittering star appeareth in the east, 
 Whose sight to pilgrim toils three 
 sages won 
 
 To seek the light they long had in request ; 
 And by this star to nobler star they pass, 
 Whose arms did their desired sun embrace. 
 
 Stall was the sky wherein these planets shined, 
 And want the cloud that did eclipse their rays ; 
 
 Yet through this cloud their light did passage find, 
 And pierced these sages' hearts by secret ways, 
 
 Which made them know the Euler of the skies, 
 
 By infant's tongue and looks of babish eyes. 
 
 Heaven at her light, earth blusheth at her pride, 
 And of their pomp these peers ashamed be ; 
 
 Their crowns, their robes, their trains they set aside, 
 When God's poor cottage clouts and crew they see ; 
 
 All glorious things their glory now despise, 
 
 Sith God contempt doth more than glory prize. 
 i 
 
114 
 
 THE EPIPUAXY. 
 
 Three gifts they brought, three gifts tlnv bear away 
 
 For incense, mirth and gold, faith, hope and love 
 And with their gifts the giver-* hearts do stay. 
 
 Their mind from Christ no parting can remove ; 
 His humble state, his stall, his poor retinue. 
 They fancy more than all their rich revenue. 
 
115 
 
 THE PRESENTATION. 
 
 '0 be redeemM the world's Redeemer 
 brought, 
 Two silly turtle-doves for ransom 
 pays ; 
 Oh ! ware with empires worthy to be bought, 
 
 This easy rate doth sound, not drown thy praise ! 
 For sith no price can to thy worth amount, 
 A dove, yea love, due price thou dost account. 
 
 Old Simeon cheap pennyworth and sweet 
 
 Obtain'd, when Thee in arms he did embrace ; 
 
 His weeping eyes Thy smiling looks did meet, 
 Thy love Ins heart, Thy kisses bless'd his face : 
 
 O eyes ! heart ! mean sights and loves avoid, 
 
 Base not yourselves, your best you have enjoy M ! 
 
 O virgin pure ! thou dost these doves present 
 As due to law, not as an equal price ; 
 
 To buy such ware thou wouldst thyself have spent ; 
 The world to reach His worth could not suffice ; 
 
 If God were to be bought, not worldly pelf, 
 
 But thou wert fittest price next God Himself. 
 
LI 6 
 
 THE FLIGHT IXTO EGYPT. 
 
 LAS ! our Day is forced to fly by night ! 
 Light without light, and sun by 
 silent shade. 
 nature, hlush ! that sufferest such a 
 wight, 
 That in thy sun this dark eclipse hath made : 
 Day to his eyes, light to his steps deny. 
 That hates the light which graceth every eve. 
 
 Sun being fled the stars do less their light. 
 
 And shining beams in bloody streams they drench : 
 A cruel storm of Herod's mortal spite 
 
 Their lives and lights with bloody showers doth 
 quench : 
 The tyrant to he sure of murdering one, 
 
 For fear of sparing Him doth pardon none. 
 
 blessed babes ! first flowers of Christian spring. 
 
 Who though untimely cropp'd fair garlands frame, 
 With open throats and silent mouths you sing 
 
 His praise whom age permits yon nol to name; 
 
 Your tunes are tears, your instruments are swords. 
 Your ditty death, and blood in lieu of words ! 
 
117 
 
 CHRIST'S RETURN OUT OF EGYPT. 
 
 .HEN Death and Hell their right in 
 Herod claim, 
 Christ from exile returns to native soil ; 
 There with His life more deeply 
 Death to maim, 
 Than Death did life bj all the infants spoil. 
 He show'd the parents, that their habes did moan, 
 That all their lives were less than His alone. 
 
 But hearing Herod's son to have the crown ; 
 
 An impious offspring of a bloody sire ; 
 To Nazareth, of heaven beloved town, 
 
 Flower to a flower He fitly doth retire ; 
 For flower He is and in a flower He bred, 
 And from a throne now to a flower He fled. 
 
 And well deserved this flower His fruit to view, 
 "Where He invested was in mortal weed ; 
 
 Where first unto a tender bud He grew, 
 
 In virgin branch unstain'd with mortal seed : 
 
 Young flower, with flowers in flower well may He be, 
 
 Ripe fruit, He must with thorns hang on a tree. 
 
IIS 
 
 CHRIST'S CHILDHOOD * 
 
 ILL twelve years' age, how Christ His 
 childhood spent 
 All earthly pens unworthy were to write; 
 £ji Such acts to mortal eyes tie did present, 
 
 Whose worth not men but angels must recite: 
 Xo nature's blots, no childish faults denied, 
 
 Where grace was guide, and God did play the child. 
 
 In springing locks lay crouched hoary wit, 
 In scmhlant young, a grave and ancient port : 
 
 In lowly looks high majesty did sit, 
 
 In tender tongue sound sense ofsagest sort: 
 
 Nature imparted all that she could teach, 
 
 And (iod supplied where nature could not reach. 
 
 I lis mirth of modest mien a mirror *\.i- : 
 lli> Badness tempered with a mild aspect ; 
 
 IIi< eye to try each action was a glass, 
 
 Whose looks did good approve and bad correct ; 
 
 His nature's gifts, His grace, His word and deed. 
 
 Well show'd that all did from a (iod proceed. 
 
 * Transferred (Vein the Edition of >- St. Peter's Com- 
 plaint" of 1G34. 
 
119 
 
 CHRIST'S BLOODY SWEAT. 
 
 A.T soil, full spring, sweet olive, grape 
 of bliss, 
 That yields, that streams, that pours, 
 that doth distil, 
 Untill'd, undrawn, unstamp'd, untouch'd of press, 
 
 Dear fruit, clear brooks, fair oil, sweet wine at will ! 
 Thus Christ unforced prevents, in shedding blood, 
 The whips, the thorns, the nails, the spear and rood. 
 
 He pelican's, he phoenix' fate doth prove, 
 
 "Whom flames consume, whom streams enforce 
 to die ; 
 
 How burnetii blood, how bleedeth burning love ? 
 Can one in flame and stream both bathe and fry ? 
 
 How could He join a phoenix' fiery pains 
 
 In fainting pelican's still bleeding veins ? 
 
 Elias once, to prove God's sovereign power, 
 By prayer procured a fire of wond'rous force, 
 
 That blood and water and wood did devour, 
 
 Yea stones and dust beyond all nature's course : 
 
 Such fire is love that, fed with gory blood, 
 
 Doth burn no less than in the driest wood. 
 
120 
 
 CHRIST'S BLOODY SWEAT. 
 
 sacred fire ! come show thy force on me, 
 That sacrifice to Christ I may return : 
 
 If wither'd wood for fuel fittest be, 
 
 If stones and dust, if flesh and blood will burn. 
 
 1 wither'd am and stony to all good, 
 
 A sack of dust, a mass of flesh and blood. 
 
121 
 
 CUEIST'S SLEEPING FBIENDS. 
 
 •HEN Christ, with care and pangs of 
 death oppress'd, 
 From frighted flesh a bloody sweat 
 did rain ; 
 
 And, full of fear, without repose or rest, 
 In agony did pray and watch in pain ; 
 Three sundry times He His disciples finds 
 AYith heavy eyes, but far more heavy minds. 
 
 With mild rebuke He warned them to wake, 
 Yet sleep did still their drowsy senses hold ; 
 
 As, when the sun the brightest shew doth make, 
 In darkness shrouds the night-birds them enfold ; 
 
 His foes did watch to work their cruel spite, 
 
 His drowsy friends slept in His hardest plight. 
 
 As Jonas sailed once from Joppa's shore 
 A boisterous tempest in the air did broil, 
 
 The waves did rage, the thundering heavens did roar, 
 The storms, the rocks, the lightnings threaten'd 
 spoil ; 
 
 The ship was billows' game and chance's prey, 
 
 Yet careless Jonas mute and sleeping lay. 
 
122 CUEIST S SLEEPING FRIENDS. 
 
 So now, though Judas, like a blust'ring gust, 
 Do stir the furious sea of Jewish ire, 
 
 Though storming troops, in quarrels most unjust, 
 Against the hack of all our bliss conspire, 
 
 Yet these disciples Bleeping lie secure. 
 
 As though their wonted calm did still endure. 
 
 So Jonas once, his weary limbs to rest, 
 Did shroud himself in pleasant ivy shade. 
 
 But lo ! while him a heavy sleep opprest, 
 
 His shadowy bower to wither'd stalks did fade : 
 
 A canker-worm had gnawn the root away. 
 
 And brought the glorious branches to decay. 
 
 O gracious plant ! tree of heavenly spring ! 
 
 The paragon for leaf, for fruit and flower. 
 How sweet a shadow did Thy branches bring 
 
 To shroud these souls that chose Thee for their 
 bower ! 
 
 But now while they with dona- fall asleep, 
 
 To Bpoil their plant an envious worm doth creep. 
 
 Awake, ye Blumbering wights! lift up your eyes, 
 Mark Judas, how to tear your root he strives ; 
 
 Alas ! the glory of your arbour dies, 
 
 Arise and guard the comfort of your lives ; 
 
 No dona-' ivy, no Zaccheus' tree, 
 
 Were to the world so great a loss as He. 
 
123 
 
 THE VIEGIX MARY TO CHRIST ON THE 
 
 CROSS. 
 
 HAT mist hath dimm'd that glorious 
 face ? 
 "What seas of grief my sun doth toss? 
 The golden rajs of heavenly grace 
 Lie now eclipsed on the cross. 
 
 Jesus, my love, my Son. my God, 
 Behold Thy mother wash'd in tears : 
 
 Thy bloody wounds be made a rod 
 To chasten these my later years. 
 
 You cruel Jews, come work your ire 
 Upon this worthless flesh of mine. 
 And kindle not eternal fire 
 
 By wounding Him who is divine. 
 
 Thou messenger that didst impart 
 
 His first descent into my womb, 
 Come help me now to cleave my heart, 
 
 That there I may my Son entomb. 
 
L24 MARY TO CHRIST OX THE CROSS. 
 
 You. angels, all that present were 
 To show His birth with harmony, 
 
 Why are you not now ready here, 
 To make a mourning symphony ? 
 
 The cause I know you wail alone. 
 
 And shed your tears in secrecy, 
 Lest I should moved be to moan, 
 
 By force of heavy company, 
 
 But wail, my soul, thy comfort dies, 
 My woful womb, lament thy fruit ; 
 
 My heart give tears unto mine eyes, 
 Let sorrow string my heavy lute. 
 
125 
 
 A HOLY HYMN* 
 
 KAISE, Sion ! praise thy Saviour, 
 Praise thy captain and thy pastor, 
 
 AYith hymns and solemn harmony. 
 What power affords perform in deed ; 
 His worths all praises far exceed, 
 No praise can reach His dignity. 
 
 A special theme of praise is read, 
 A living and life-giving bread, 
 
 Is on this day exhibited ; 
 AMiich in the supper of our Lord, 
 To twelve disciples at His board 
 
 None doubts was delivered. 
 
 Let our praise be loud and free, 
 Full of joy and decent glee, 
 
 With minds' and voices' melody ; 
 For now solemnize we that day, 
 Which doth with joy to us display 
 
 The prince of this mystery. 
 
 * Version of the u Lauda Syon Salvatorem" of St. 
 Thomas Aquinas. 
 
120 A HOLY HYMN. 
 
 At tliis board of our new ruler, 
 Of new law, new paschal order 
 
 The ancient rite abolisheth : 
 Old decrees be new annulled, 
 Shadows arc in truths fulfilled, 
 
 Day former darkness finisheth. 
 
 That at supper Christ performed, 
 To be done He -traitly charged 
 
 For His eternal memory. 
 Guided by His sacred orders, 
 Bread and wine upon our altars 
 
 To saving host we sanctify. 
 
 Christians are by faith assured 
 That to flesh the bread is changed, 
 
 The wine to Mood most precious: 
 That no wit nor sense conceiveth, 
 Firm and grounded faith believeth, 
 
 In strange effects not curious.* 
 
 * The following twenty-lour lines are omitted in the 
 edition of 1630, and in their place are substituted, — 
 
 " As staff of bread thy heart sustains, 
 And cheerful wine thy strength regains, 
 
 l'>\ power and \ irtue natural j 
 So doth this consecrated fond, 
 The symbol of Christ's flesh and blood, 
 
 By virtue supernatural. 
 
 The ruins of thy soul repair. 
 Banish sin, horror and despair, 
 
 And feed faith, bj faith received : 
 Angel's bread," cVc 
 
A HOLY HY3IX. 127 
 
 Under kinds two in appearance, 
 Two in show but one in substance, 
 
 Lie things beyond comparison ; 
 Flesh is meat, blood drink most heavenly, 
 Yet is Christ in each kind wholly, 
 
 Most free from all division. 
 
 None that eateth Him doth chew Him, 
 None that takes Him doth divide Him, 
 
 Received He whole persevereth. 
 Be there one or thousands hosted, 
 One as much as all received, 
 
 He by no eating perisheth. 
 
 Both the good and bad receive Him, 
 But effects are diverse in them, 
 
 True life or due destruction. 
 Life to the good, death to the wicked, 
 Mark how both alike received 
 
 With far unlike conclusion. 
 
 When the priest the host divideth, 
 Know that in each part abideth 
 
 All that the whole host covered. 
 Form of bread, not Christ is broken, 
 Not of Christ, but of His token, 
 
 Is state or stature altered. 
 
12S A HOLY HYMN. 
 
 Angels' bread made pilgrim's feeding. 
 Truly bread for children's eating, 
 
 To dogs not to be offered. 
 Signed by Isaac on the altar. 
 By the lamb and paschal supper. 
 
 And in the manna figured. 
 
 Jesu, food and feeder of us, 
 
 Here with mercy feed and friend us. 
 
 Then grant in heaven felicity ! 
 Lord of all, whom here Thou feedest, 
 Fellows, heirs, guests with Thy dearest. 
 
 Make us in heavenly company ! Amen. 
 
129 
 
 SAINT PETEB'S AFFLICTED MIND. 
 
 F that the sick may groan, 
 Or orphan mourn his loss ; 
 If wounded wretch may rue his harms 
 Or caitiff show his cross ; 
 
 If heart consumed with care, 
 
 May utter signs of pain ; 
 Then may my breast be- sorrow's home, 
 
 And tongue with cause complain. 
 
 My malady is sin, 
 
 And languor of the mind ; 
 My body but a Lazar's couch 
 
 Wherein my soul is pined. 
 
 The care of heavenly kind 
 
 Is dead to my relief; 
 Forlorn, and left like orphan child, 
 
 With sighs I feed my grief. 
 
 My wounds, with mortal smart 
 My dying soul torment, 
 
130 ST. PETERS AFFLICTED MIND. 
 
 And, prisoner to my own mishaps, 
 
 My folly 1 repent. 
 
 My heart is lmt the haunt 
 Where all dislike doth keep ; 
 
 And who can blame so lost a wretch, 
 Though tears of blood he weep ? 
 
131 
 
 SAINT PETER'S REMORSE. 
 
 EMORSE upbraids my faults ; 
 Self-blaming conscience cries ; 
 Sin claims the host of humbled thoughts 
 And streams of weeping eyes : 
 
 Let penance, Lord, prevail ; 
 
 Let sorrow sue release ; 
 Let love be umpire in my cause, 
 
 And pass the doom of peace. 
 
 If doom go by desert, 
 My least desert is death ; 
 
 That robs from soid's immortal joys, 
 From body mortal breath. 
 
 But in so high a God, 
 
 So base a worm's annoy 
 Can add no praise unto Thy power, 
 
 No bliss unto Thy joy. 
 
 Well may I fry in flames, 
 Due fuel to hell -fire ! 
 
132 ST. PETERS REMORSE. 
 
 But on a wretch to wreak Thy wrath 
 Cannot be worth Thine ire. 
 
 Vet sith bo vile a worm 
 
 Hath wrought his greatest spite, 
 Of highest treasons well Thou may'st 
 
 Tn rigour him indite. 
 
 13 ut Mercy may relent, 
 And temper Justice' rod, 
 
 For mercy doth as much belong 
 As justice to a God. 
 
 If former time or place 
 More right to mercy win, 
 
 Thou first were author of myself, 
 Then umpire of my sin. 
 
 Did .Mercy spin the thread 
 
 To weave in Justice' loom, 
 Wert then a father to conclude 
 
 With dreadful judge's doom. 
 
 It is a small relief 
 To saj I was Tin child, 
 
 If, as an ill-deserving foe, 
 From grace I am exiled. 
 
ST. PETER'S REMORSE. 133 
 
 I was, I had, I could, 
 
 All words importing- want ; 
 They are but dust of dead supplies, 
 
 Where needful helps are scant. 
 
 Once to have been in bliss 
 
 That hardly can return, 
 Doth but bewray from whence I fell, 
 
 And wherefore now I mourn. 
 
 All thoughts of passed hopes 
 
 Increase my present cross ; 
 Like ruins of decayed joys, 
 
 They still upbraid my loss. 
 
 mild and mighty Lord ! 
 Amend that is amiss ; 
 
 My sin my sore, Thy love my salve, 
 Thy cure my comfort is. 
 
 Confirm Thy former deed, 
 Reform that is defiled ; 
 
 1 was, I am, I will remain 
 
 Thy charge, Thy choice, Thy child. 
 
134 
 
 MAX TO THE WOUND IX CHRIST'S 
 SIDE. 
 
 PLEASANT Bpot! O place of rest! 
 
 O royal rift ! O worthy wound ! 
 Come harbour me, a weary guest, 
 
 That in the world no ease have found ! 
 
 I lie lamenting at Thy gate, 
 Yet dare I not adventure in : 
 
 I bear with me a troublous mate, 
 And cumber' d am with heaps of sin. 
 
 Discharge me of this heavy load. 
 
 That easier passage I may find, 
 Within this bower to make abode, 
 
 And in this glorious tomb be shrined. 
 
 Here must \ live, here must I die. 
 Here would 1 utter all my grief; 
 
 Sere would I all those pains descry, 
 Which here did meet for my relief. 
 
 Here would I view that bloody sore, 
 Which dint of spiteful Bpeai did breed 
 
MAN TO THE WOUND, ETC. 135 
 
 The bloody -wounds laid there in store, 
 Would force a stony heart to bleed. 
 
 Here is the spring of trickling tears, 
 The mirror of all mourning wights. 
 
 With doleful tunes for dumpish ears, , 
 And solemn shows for sorrow'd sights. 
 
 Oh, happy soul, that flies so high 
 
 As to attain this sacred cave ! 
 Lord, send me wings, that I may fly, 
 
 And in this harbour quiet have ! 
 
136 
 
 X THE IMAGE OF DEATH. 
 
 EEOEE my face the picture hangs, 
 That daily should put me in mind 
 Of those cold names and hitter pangs, 
 Tl. I am like to find : 
 
 But yet. alas ! full little I 
 Do think hereon that I must die. 
 
 1 often look upon a face 
 
 Most u_"v. grisly, bare and thin: 
 I often view the hollow place. 
 
 Win had e metime been ; 
 
 I see the boi - — that lie, 
 
 Yet little think that I must die. 
 
 I r»ad the label underneath, 
 
 That tolleth me whereto I must : 
 the sentence eke th.it saith, 
 
 Remember, man. thou art but dns 
 Hut yet, alas ! bul Beldom I 
 Do think indeed that I must 
 
 Continually at my bed's I 
 
 Ati hearse doth hang, which duth me tell 
 
UPOX THE IMAGE OF DEATH. 13' 
 
 That I ere morning may be d< 
 
 Though now I feel mj - ell : 
 
 But yet. a) s! i D this 1 
 Have little mind thai I must die. 
 
 The _ ! - I 
 
 The knife wherewith I cut my meat. 
 And eke thai I hair 
 
 Which i- my only as 
 All these do tell me I m si 
 And yet my life amend not 1. 
 
 My ancestors are tarn'd to clay, 
 And many of my mates are _ 
 My youngers daily drop away. 
 
 And can I thin] I 's lone ? 
 
 No, no. I know that I mast die. 
 And yet my life amend not I. 
 
 Not Solomon, for all his wit, 
 
 Nor Samson, though he were so strong, 
 No king nor person ever yet 
 
 Could 'scape, but Death laid him along : 
 Wherefore I know that I must die, 
 And yet my lite amend not I. 
 
 Though all the East did quake to heai 
 Of Alexander's dreadful name. 
 
138 UPOX THE IMAGE OF DEATH. 
 
 And all the West did likewise fear 
 To hear of Julius Caesar's fame, 
 Yet both by Death in dust now lie ; 
 Who then can 'scape, but he must die ? 
 
 If none can 'scape Death's dreadful dart. 
 
 If rich and poor his heck obey ; 
 If strong, if wise, if all do smart. 
 
 Then I to 'scape shall have no way. 
 Oh ! grant me grace, God ! that I 
 My life may mend, sith I must die. 
 
139 
 
 A VALE OF TEARS. 
 
 VALE there is, en wrapt with dreadful 
 shades, 
 Which thick of mourning pines 
 shrouds from the sun, 
 AMiere hanging cliffs yield short and dumpish glades, 
 And snowy flood with broken streams doth run. 
 
 Where eye-room is from rock to cloudy sky, 
 From thence to dales with stony ruins strew'd, 
 
 Then to the crushed water's frothy fry, 
 
 Which tumblethfrom thetopswheresnowisthaw'd. 
 
 Where ears of other sound can have no choice, 
 But various blust'ring of the stubborn wind 
 
 In trees, in caves, in straits with divers noise ; 
 Which now doth hiss, now howl, now roar by kind. 
 
 Where waters wrestle with encount'ring stones, 
 That break their streams and turn them into foam, 
 
 The hollow clouds full fraught with thund'ring groans, 
 With hideous thumps discharge their pregnant 
 womb. 
 
140 A VALE OF TEARS. 
 
 And in the horror of this fearful quire 
 Consists the music of this doleful place ; 
 
 All pleasant birds from thence their tunes retire, 
 Where none hut heavy notes have any grace. 
 
 Eesort there is of none hut pilgrim wights, 
 
 That pass with trembling foot and panting heart ; 
 
 With terror cast in cold and shivering frights, 
 They judge the place to terror framed by art. 
 
 Yet nature's work it i<. of ait untouch'd, 
 So strait indeed, so vast unto the eye, 
 
 With such disordered order strangely couch'd, 
 And with such pleasing horror low and high. 
 
 That who it views must needs remain aghast, 
 Much at the work, more at the .Maker's might ; 
 
 And muse how nature such a plot could casi 
 
 Where nothing seemeth wrong, yet nothing right. 
 
 A plaee for mated mind-, an only hewer 
 
 Where everything do soothe a dumpish mood : 
 
 Earth lies forlorn, the cloudy sky doth lower. 
 The wind here weeps, here sighs, here cries aloud. 
 
 The struggling flood between the marble groans, 
 Then roaring luat- upon the craggy Bides : 
 
 A little off. amidst the pebble stones. 
 
 With bubbling streams and purling noise it glides. 
 
A VALE OF TEABS. 141 
 
 The pines thick set, high grown and ever green, 
 Still clothe the place with sad and mourning veil ; 
 
 Here gaping cliff, there mossy plain is seen, 
 
 Here hope doth spring, and there again doth quail. 
 
 Huge massy stones that hang by tickle stays', 
 Still threaten fall, and seem to hang in fear ; 
 
 Some wither'd trees, ashamed of their decays, 
 Bereft of green are forced grey coats to wear. 
 
 Here crystal springs crept out of secret vein, 
 Straight find some envious hole that hides their 
 grace ; 
 
 Here seared tufts lament the want of rain, 
 
 There thunder- wrack gives terror to the place. 
 
 All pangs and heavy passions here may find 
 A thousand motives suiting to their griefs, 
 
 To feed the sorrows of their troubled mind, 
 And chase away dame Pleasure's vain reliefs. 
 
 To plaining thoughts this vale a rest may be, 
 To which from worldly joys they may retire ; 
 
 Where sorrow springs from water, stone and tree ; 
 Where everything with mourners doth conspire. 
 
 Set here, my soul, main streams of tears afloat, 
 Here all thy sinful foils alone recount ; 
 
142 A VALE OF TEARS. 
 
 Of solemn tunes make thou the doleful note, 
 That, by thy ditties, dolour may amount. 
 
 When echo shall repeat thv painful cries, 
 Think that the very stones thy sins bewray. 
 
 And now accuse thee with their sad replies, 
 As heaven and earth shall in the latter day. 
 
 Let former faults be fuel of thy fire, 
 For grief in limbeck of thy heart to still 
 
 Thy pensive thoughts and dumps of thy de-ire. 
 And Vapour tears up to thy eyes at will. 
 
 Let tears to tunes, and pains to plaints be press'd, 
 And let this be the burden of thy song, — 
 
 Come, deep remorse, possess my sinful breast : 
 Delights, adieu ! I harbour'd vou too long. 
 
143 
 
 THE PRODIGAL CHILD'S SOUL WRACK. 
 
 ISAXCHOR'D from a blissful shore, 
 And launch'd into the main of cares ; 
 Grown rich in vice, in virtue poor, 
 From freedom falPn in fatal snares ; 
 
 I found myself on every side 
 
 Enwrapped in the waves of woe, 
 
 And, tossed with a toilsome tide, 
 Could to no port for refuge go. 
 
 The wrestling winds with raging blasts, 
 Still held me in a cruel chase ; 
 
 They broke my anchors, sails and masts, 
 Permitting no reposing place. 
 
 The boisterous seas, with swelling floods, 
 On every side did work their spite, 
 
 Heaven, overcast with stormy clouds, 
 Denied the planets' guiding light. 
 
 The hellish furies lay in wait 
 
 To win my soul into their power, 
 

 
son i 
 
 . r ;. . T ... . _ 
 
146 
 
 MAN'S CIVIL WAR 
 
 Y hovering thoughts would fly to heaven. 
 And quiet nestle in the sky ; 
 Fain would my ship in virtue's shore 
 "Without remove at anchor lie : 
 
 .But mounting thoughts are haled down 
 With heavy poise of mortal load ; 
 
 And blustering storms deny my ship 
 In virtue's haven secure ahode. 
 
 When inward eye to heavenly sights 
 Doth draw my longing heart's desire. 
 
 The world with jesses of delights 
 
 Would to her perch my thoughts retire. 
 
 Fond Fancy trains to Pleasure's lure. 
 
 Though Reason stiffly do repine ; 
 
 Though Wisdom woo me to the saint. 
 Vet Sense would win me to the shrine. 
 
 When- wisdom loathes, there fancy loves. 
 And overrules the captive will ; 
 
 Foes senses are to virtue's lore, 
 
 They draw the wit their wish to fill. 
 
MAJS'S CIVIL WAR. 147 
 
 Need craves consent of soul to sense, 
 
 Yet divers bents breed civil fray : 
 Hard hap where halves must disagree, 
 
 Or truce of halves the whole betray ! 
 
 cruel fight ! where fighting friend 
 With love doth kill a favouring foe ; 
 
 Where peace with sense is war with God, 
 And self-delight the seed of woe ! 
 
 Dame Pleasure's drugs are steep'd in sin. 
 Their sugar'd taste doth breed annoy ; 
 
 O fickle Sense ! beware her gin, 
 Sell not thy soul for brittle joy ! 
 
148 
 
 SEEK FLOWERS OF HEAVEN. 
 
 OAR up my soul unto thy rest, 
 Cast off this loathsome load : 
 Long is the death of thine exile. 
 Too lono; thy strict abode. 
 
 Graze not on worldly wither'd wood. 
 
 It fitteth not thy taste ; 
 The flowers of everlasting spring 
 
 Do grow for thy repast. 
 
 Their leaves are stain \1 in beauty's dye. 
 
 And blazed with her beams, 
 Their stalks enamel'd with delight, 
 
 And limn'd with glorious gleams. 
 
 Life-giving juice of living love 
 Their BugarM veins doth till. 
 
 And waterM with eternal Bhowers 
 They nectar'd drops distill. 
 
 These flowers do Bpring from fertile soil. 
 
 Though from unmanured field : 
 
SEEK FLO WEBS OF HEAVEN. 149 
 
 Most glittering gold in lieu of glebe, 
 These fragrant flowers do yield. 
 
 Whose sovereign scent surpassing sense 
 
 So ravisheth the mind, 
 That worldly weeds needs must he loathe 
 
 That can these flowers find. 
 
ADDITIONAL POEMS. 
 
 '-«♦*-' 
 
153 
 
 DECEASE, EELEASE. DUM MORIOR, 
 ORIOE* 
 
 [Addl. MSS. Brit. Mus. No. 10,422.] 
 
 >HE pounded spice both taste and scent 
 doth please, 
 In fading- smoke the force doth incense 
 show ; 
 
 The perish'd kernel springeth with increase, 
 The lopped tree doth best and soonest grow. 
 
 God's spice I was, and pounding was my due, 
 In fading breath my incense favour'd best ; 
 
 Death was my mean my kernel to renew, 
 By lopping shot I up to heavenly rest. 
 
 Some things more perfect are in then decay, 
 Like spark that going out gives clearest light ; 
 
 Such was my hap whose doleful dying day 
 Began my joy, and termed Fortune's spite. 
 
 Alive a Queen, now dead I am a Saint ; 
 
 Once Mary call'd, my name now Martyr is ; 
 
 * On the Death of the martyred Mary Stuart, Queen of 
 Scots. 
 
154 DECEASE, RELEASE. 
 
 From earthly reign debarred by restraint. 
 In lieu whereof I reign in heavenly bliss. 
 
 My life my grief, my death hath wrought my joy, 
 My friends my foil, my foes my weal procured ; 
 
 My speedy death hath scorned long annoy, 
 And loss of life and endless life assured. 
 
 My scaffold was the bed where ease I found, 
 
 The block a pillow of eternal rest ; 
 My headman cast me in a blissful swound, 
 
 His axe cut off my cares from cumber'd breast. 
 
 Rue not my death, rejoice at my repose ; 
 
 It was no death to me, but to my woe ; 
 The bud was open'd to let out the rose, 
 
 The chains unloosed to let the captive go. 
 
 A prince by birth, a prisoner by mishap, 
 
 From crown to cross, from throne to thrall I fell ; 
 My right my ruth, my titles wrought my trap, 
 
 My weal my woe. my worldly heaven my In. 11. 
 
 By death from prisoner to a prince enhanced. 
 
 From cross to crown, from thrall to throne again; 
 My rutli my right, my trap my Style advanced 
 
 From wee to weal, from hell to heavenly reign. 
 
155 
 
 I DIE WITHOUT DESERT * 
 
 [Addl. MSS. Brit. Mus. No. 10,422.] 
 
 E orphan child, enwrapt in swathing 
 bands, 
 Doth move to mercy when forlorn 
 it lies ; 
 
 If none without remorse of love withstands 
 The piteous noise of infant's silly cries ; 
 Then hope, my helpless heart, some tender cares 
 Will rue thy orphan state and feeble tears. 
 
 Relinquished lamb, in solitary wood, 
 
 With dying bleat doth move the toughest mind ; 
 The gasping pangs of new engender'd brood, 
 
 Base though they be, compassion use to find : 
 Why should I then of pity doubt to speed, 
 Whose hap would force the hardest heart to bleed ? 
 
 Left orphan-like in helpless state I rue, 
 
 With only sighs and tears I plead my case ; 
 
 My dying plaints I daily do renew, 
 
 And fill with heavy noise a desert place : 
 * Presumed to be on the same subject. 
 
156 I DIE WITHOUT DESERT. 
 
 Some tender heart will weep to hear my moan ; 
 Men pity may, but help me God alone ! 
 
 Eain down, ye heavens, your tears this case requires 
 Man's eyes unable are enough to shed ; 
 
 If sorrows could have place in heavenly quires, 
 A juster ground the world hath seldom bred : 
 
 For right is wrong, and virtue waged with blood ; 
 
 The bad are bless'd, God murdered in the good. 
 
 A gracious plant for fruit, for leaf and flower, 
 A peerless gem for virtue, proof, and price, 
 
 A noble peer for prowess, will, and power. 
 A friend to truth, a foe I was to vice ; 
 
 And lo ! alas ! now innocent I die, 
 
 A case that might make even the stones to cry. 
 
 Thus fortune's favours still are bent to flight, 
 Thus worldly bliss in final bale doth end : 
 
 Thus virtue -till pursued i- with spite, 
 
 But let my fate though rueful none offend: 
 
 God doth Bomethnes crop first the sweetest flower. 
 
 And leave the weed till time do it devour. 
 
157 
 
 OF THE BLESSED SACRAMEXT OF THE 
 
 ALTAE. 
 
 [Addl. MSS. Brit. Mus. Xo. 10,422.] 
 
 'X pasehaJ feast, tlie end of ancient rite, 
 An entrance to never-ending grace, 
 Types to the truth, dim gleams to the 
 light, 
 
 Performing deed presaging signs did chase : 
 Christ's final meal was fountain of our good, 
 For mortal meat He gave immortal food. 
 
 That which He gave He was, oh, peerless gift ! 
 
 Both God and man He was, and both He gave. 
 He in His hands Himself did truly lift, 
 
 Far off they see whom in themselves they have ; 
 Twelve did He feed, twelve did their feeder eat, 
 He made, He dress'd, He gave, He was their meat. 
 
 They saw, they heard, they felt Him sitting near, 
 Unseen, unfelt, unheard, they Him received ; 
 
 Xo diverse thing, though diverse it appear, 
 Though senses fail, yet faith is not deceived ; 
 
 And if the wonder of their work be new, 
 
 Believe the worker 'cause His word is true. 
 
158 OF THE BLESSED SACRAMENT 
 
 Here truth belief, belief inviteth love, 
 So sweet a truth love never yet enjoy 'd ; 
 
 What thought can think, what will doth best approve, 
 Is here obtain'd where no desire is void : 
 
 The grace, the joy, the treasure here is such, 
 
 No wit can wish, nor will embrace so much. 
 
 Self-love here cannot crave more than it finds ; 
 
 Ambition to no higher worth aspire ; 
 The eagerest famine of most hungry minds 
 
 May fill, yea far exceed, their own desire : 
 In sum here is all in a sum express'd, 
 Of which the most of every good the be-t. 
 
 To ravish eyes here heavenly beauties are ; 
 
 To win the ear sweet music's Bweetest sound ; 
 To lure the taste the angels' heavenly fare ; 
 
 To soothe the scent divine perfumes abound ; 
 To please the touch lie in our hearts doth bed, 
 Whose touch doth cure the deaf, the dumb, the dead. 
 
 Here t<> delighl the will true wisdom is : 
 
 To woo the will of every good the choice ; 
 For memory a mirror Bhowing Mi--. 
 
 Here all that can both Bense ami soul rejoici 
 And if to all, all this it doth not bring, 
 
 The fault is in the men, not in the thing. 
 
OF THE ALTAR. 159 
 
 Though blind men see no light, the sun doth shine ; 
 
 Sweet cates are sweet, though fever'd tastes deny it; 
 Pearls precious are, though trodden on by swine ; 
 
 Each truth is true, though all men do not try it ; 
 The best still to the bad doth work the worst ; 
 Things bred to bliss do make the more accursed. 
 
 The angels' eyes, whom veils cannot deceive, 
 Might best disclose that best they did discern ; 
 
 Men must with sound and silent faith receive 
 More than they can by sense or reason learn ; 
 
 God's power our proofs, His Avorks our wit exceed, 
 
 The doer's might is reason of His deed. 
 
 A body is endow'd with ghostly rights ; 
 
 A nature's work from nature's law is free ; 
 In heavenly sun lie hid eternal lights, 
 
 Lights clear and near, yet them no eye can see : 
 Dead forms a never-dying life do shroud ; 
 A boundless sea lies in a little cloud. 
 
 The God of hosts in slender host doth dwell, 
 Yea, God and man with all to either due ; 
 
 That God that rides the heavens and rifled hell, 
 That man whose death did us to life renew ; 
 
 That God and man that is the angels' bliss, 
 
 In form of bread and wine our nature is. 
 
160 OF THE BLESSED SAC BAM EXT. 
 
 Whole may His body be in smallest bread, 
 
 "Whole in the whole, yea whole in every crumb ; 
 
 With which be one or [even] ten thousand fed, 
 All to each one, to all but one doth come ; 
 
 And though each one as much as all receive, 
 
 Xot one too much, nor all too little have. 
 
 One soul in man is all in every pail ; 
 
 One face at once in many mirrors shines ; 
 One fearful noise doth make a thousand start ; 
 
 One eye at once of counties things defines ; 
 If proofs of one in many Nature frame, 
 God may in stronger sort perform the same. 
 
 God present is at once in every place, 
 Yet God in every place is ever one : 
 
 So may there be by gifts of ghostly grace, 
 One man in many rooms, yet tilling none; 
 
 Sitfa angels may effects of bodies show, 
 
 God angels' gifts on bodies may bestow. 
 
 What God as author made lie alter may ; 
 
 No change so hard as making all of nought ; 
 If Adam framed were of slimy clay. 
 
 Bread mayto Christ's most sacred flesh be wrought 
 He may do this that made with mighty hand 
 Of water wine, a snake of Moses's wand. 
 
161 
 
 THE DEATH OF OUE LADY. 
 
 [Addl. MSS. Brit. Mus. No. 10,422.] 
 
 ^EEP, living things, of life the mother 
 dies; 
 The world doth lose the sum of all 
 her bliss, 
 The queen of earth, the empress of the skies ; 
 
 By Mary's death mankind an orphan is : 
 Let nature weep, yea, let all graces moan, 
 Their glory, grace, and gifts die all in one. 
 
 It was no death to her, but to her woe, 
 
 By which her joys began, her griefs did end ; 
 
 Death was to her a friend, to us a foe, 
 
 Life of whose lives did on her life depend : 
 
 Not prey of death, but praise to death she was, 
 
 "Whose ugly shape seem'd glorious in her face. 
 
 Her face a heaven, two planets were her eyes, 
 "Whose gracious light did make our clearest day ; 
 
 But one such heaven there was and lo ! it dies, 
 Death's dark eclipse hath dimmed every ray : 
 
 Such eyed the light thy beams untimely shine, 
 
 True light sith we have lost, we crave not thine. 
 
162 
 
 THE ASSUMPTION OF OUR LADY. 
 [Addl. MSS. Brit. Mus. No. 10,422.] 
 
 F sin be captive, grace must find release ; 
 From curse of sin the innocent is free; 
 Tomb prison is for sinners that decease, 
 No tomb but throne to guiltless doth 
 agree : 
 Though thralls of sin lie lingering in the grave. 
 Yet faultless corse with soul reward must have. 
 
 The dazzled eye doth dimmed light require. 
 And dying sights repose in Bhrouding shades ; 
 
 ]iut eagles' eyes to brightest light aspire, 
 And living looks delight in lofty glades: 
 
 Faint-winged fowl by ground do faintly tiy. 
 
 Our princely eagle mounts unto the sky. 
 
 Gem to her worth, spouse to her love ascends, 
 Prince to her throne, queen to her heavenly King 
 
 Whose court with Bolemn pomp on her attends. 
 And quires of saints with greeting notes do aing 
 
 Earth rendereth up her undeserved prey, 
 
 Heaven claims the right, and bears the prise away. 
 
163 
 
 VERSES APPENDED TO "THE TRIUMPHS 
 OVER DEATH." 
 
 LARA ducum soboles, superis nova 
 sedibus hospes, 
 Olausit inoffenso tramite pura? diem : 
 Dotibus ornavit, superavit moribus 
 ortum, 
 Omnibus una prior, parfuit una sibi : 
 Lux genus ingenio, generi lux inclita virtus 
 
 Virtutisque fuit mens generosa decus. 
 Mors muta at properata? dies orbemque relinquit, 
 
 Prolem matre verum conjuge flore genus, 
 Occidit a se alium tulit hie occasus in ortum, 
 Vivat, ad occiduas non reditura vices, 
 
 Of Howard's stem a glorious branch is dead. 
 
 Sweet lights eclipsed were at her decease ; 
 In Buckhurst' line she gracious issue spread, 
 
 She heaven with two, with four did earth increase. 
 Fame, honour, grace, gave air unto her breath, 
 Rest, glory, joys, were sequels of her death. 
 
 Death aim'd too high, he hit too choice a wight, 
 Renown'd for birth, for life, for lovely parts ; 
 
164 VERSES. 
 
 He kill'd her cares, he brought her worths to light, 
 lie robb'd our eves, but hath enrich'd our hearts : 
 Lot let out of her ark a Noah's dove, 
 But many hearts were arks unto her love. 
 
 Grace, Xature, Fortune, did in her conspire 
 To show a proof of their united skill : 
 
 Sly Fortune, ever false, did soon retire, 
 
 But double grace supplied false Fortune's ill. 
 
 And though she wrought not unto Fortune's pitch, 
 
 In grace and virtue few were found so rich. 
 
 Heaven of tins heavenly pearl is now possess'd, 
 Whose lustre was the Maze of honour's light. 
 
 Whose substance pure of every good the best. 
 Whose price the crown of [every] highest right ; 
 
 Whose praise, to be herself: whose greatest bliss. 
 
 To live, to love, to be where new she is. 
 
165 
 
 VERSES PREFIXED TO « SHORT RULES 
 
 OF GOOD LIFE," ADDRESSED TO 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN READER. 
 
 I. 
 
 F Virtue be thy guide, 
 True comfort is thy path, 
 And thou secure from erring steps, 
 That lead to vengeance wrath. 
 
 Not widest open door, 
 
 Nor spacious ways she goes ; 
 To straight and narrow gate and way, 
 
 She calls, she leads, she shows. 
 
 She calls, the fewest come ; 
 
 She leads the humble sprited, 
 She shows them rest at race's end, 
 
 Souls' rest to heaven invited. 
 
 'Tis she that offers most ; 
 
 'Tis she that most refuse ; 
 'Tis she prevents the broad way plagues, 
 
 Which, most do wilful choose. 
 
L66 VERSES PREFIXED TO 
 
 Do choose the wide, the broad, 
 The left-hand way and gate : 
 
 These Vice applauds, these Virtue loathes, 
 And teacheth hers to hate. 
 
 Her ways are pleasant ways, 
 
 Upon the right-hand side ; 
 And heavenly happy is that soul 
 
 Takes Virtue for her guide. 
 
 II. 
 A Pbepabattve to Pbayer. 
 
 WHEN thou dost talk with God. (by prayer 
 I mean.) 
 Lift up pure hands, lay down all lust's desire-. 
 Fix thoughts on heaven, present a conscience clear 
 
 Such holy blame to mercy's throne aspires. 
 Confess faults' guilt, crave pardon for thy sin ; 
 Tread holy paths, call grace to guide therein. 
 
 It is the spirit with reverence musl obey 
 
 Our Maker's will, to practise what He taught ; 
 Make not the flesh thy counsel when thou pray, 
 "I'is enemy to every virtuous thought : 
 
"SHORT RULES OF GOOD LIFE." 1Q\ 
 
 It is the foe we daily feed and clothe, 
 It is the prison that the soul doth loathe. 
 
 Even as Elias, mounting to the sky, 
 Did cast his mantle to the earth behind, 
 
 So, when the heart presents the prayer on high, 
 Exclude the world from traffic with the mind. 
 
 Lips near to God, and ranging heart within, 
 
 Is but vain babbling and converts to sin. 
 
 Like Abraham, ascending up the hill 
 
 To sacrifice, his servant left below, 
 That he might act the great Commander's will, 
 
 Without impeach to his obedient blow ; 
 Even so the soul, remote from earthly things, 
 Should mount salvation's shelter, mercy's wings. 
 
 III. 
 The Effects of Prayer. 
 
 THE sun by prayer did cease his course and staid; 
 The hungry lions fawn'd upon their prey ; 
 A walled passage through the sea it made ; 
 From furious fire it banish'd heat away ; 
 It shut the heavens three years from giving rain, 
 It open'd heavens, and clouds pour'd down again. 
 
168 VERSES. 
 
 IV. 
 Ensamples of our Saviour. 
 
 OUR Saviour, (pattern of true holin 
 Continual pwv'd. us by ensample teaching, 
 When he was baptized in the wilderness, 
 
 In working miracles and in his preaching, 
 Upon the mount, in garden groves of death, 
 At his last supper, at his parting breath. 
 
 Oh ! fortress of the faithful, sure defence, 
 
 In which doth Christians' cognizance consist : 
 
 Their victory, their triumph comes from thence, 
 So forcible, hell-gates cannot resist : 
 
 A thins whereby both angels, clouds and stars 
 
 At man's request fight God's revengeful wars. 
 
 Nothing more grateful in the highest < 
 
 Nothing more firm in danger to protect us. 
 
 Nothing more forcible to pierce the skies, 
 And not depart till mercy do respect us: 
 
 And, as the soul life to the body gives, 
 
 So prayer revives the soul, by prayer it lives. 
 
 CHISWICK PRESS ! PRINTED Bl 0. WBITTXKORAM , 
 rOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. 
 
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LIBRARY OF OLD AUTHORS. 
 
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 con- 
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 ean 
 
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 Traditionary Anecdotes of Shale e- 
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IXG BOOKS. 
 
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 Account of the only known Mann- , 
 
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 some important variations and correc- Dyce's "Few Notes on Shakes] 
 
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 NOTICES of the HISTORY and ANTIQUITIES of ISLIP, 
 Oxon. By J. O. Halliwell. 8vo {only 50 printed), sewed, Is. 
 
 HISTORY of BANBURY, in Oxfordshire; including Copious His- 
 torical and Antiquarian Notices of the Neighbourhood. By Alfred Beesley. Thick 
 8vo, 681 closely printed pages, with 60 woodcuts., engraved in the first style of art, by 
 O. Jewett, of Oxford. 14s. (original price £1. 5s.) 
 
 HISTORY of WITNEY, with Notes of the Neighbouring Parishes 
 and Hamlets in Oxfordshire. By the Rev. Dr. Giles, formerly Fellow of Christ's 
 College, Oxford. 8vo, plates. Clbth {only 150 printed), 6s. 
 
 HISTORY of the PARISH and TOWN of BAMPTON, in Oxford- 
 shire, with the District and Hamlets belonging to it. By the Rev. Dr. Giles. 8vo, 
 plates. Second Edition. Cloth, 7s. 6d. 
 
 SUSSEX GARLAND.— A Collection of Ballads, Sonnets, Tales, 
 Elegies, Songs, Epitaphs, &c. illustrative of the County of Sussex; with Notices, 
 Historical, Biographical, and Descriptive. By James Taylor. Post 8vo. enqravinas. 
 Cloth, 12s. 
 
 HISTORY and ANTIQUITIES of the ANCIENT PORT and 
 
 Town of RYE, in Sussex ; compiled from Original Documents. By William Holloway, 
 Esq. Thick 8vo {only 200 printed), cloth, £1. Is. 
 
 HISTORY of WINCHELSEA, in Sussex. By W. Durrant Cooper, 
 
 F.S.A. 8vo, fine plates and woodcuts, 7s. 6d. 
 
 CHRONICLE of BATTEL ABBEY, in Sussex ; originally compiled 
 
 in Latin by a Monk of the Establishment, and now first translated, with Notes, and 
 an Abstract of the subsequent History of the Abbey. By Mark Antony Lower, M.A. 
 8vo, with illustrations. Cloth, 9s. 
 
 HAND-BOOK to LEWES, in Sussex, Historical and Descriptive; 
 with Notices of the Recent Discoveries at the Priory. By Mark Antony Lower. 
 12mo, many engravings. Cloth, Is. 6d. 
 
 CHRONICLES of PEVENSEY, in Sussex. By M. A. Lower. 12mo, 
 
 tvoodcuts, Is. 
 
12 VALUABLE AND INTERESTING BOOKS. 
 
 MEMORIALS of the TOWN" of SEAFORD, Sussex. By M. A. 
 
 Lower. 8vo, plates. Boards, Ss. Cd. 
 
 HISTORY and ANTIQUITIES of the TOWN of MARL- 
 BOllOl'GlI, and more generally of the entire Hundred of Selkley in Wiltshire. By 
 James Waylen, Esq. Thick bvo, woodcuts. Cloth, 1 Is. 
 
 This volume describes a portion of Wilts not included by Sir R. C. Hoare and 
 other topographers. 
 
 HISTORICAL ACCOUNT of the CISTERCIAN ABBEY of 
 SAL.LEY, in Craven, Yorkshire, its Foundation and Benefactors, Abbots 
 Compotus. and Dissolution, and its existing Remains. Edited In J. llariand. Roval 
 8vo, 12 plates. Cloth, 4s. 6d. 
 
 ANNALS and LEGENDS of CALAIS; with Sketches of Emigre 
 Notabilities, and Memoir of Lady Hamilton. By Robert Hell Calton, author of 
 "Rambles in Sweden and Gottlauil," fee. &c. Post ftvo, Kith frontispiece ond vignette. 
 Cloth, 5s. 
 
 A very entertaining volume on a town full of historical associations connected 
 with England. 
 
 ©eraltirij, (Scncaloctu, anti Surnames. 
 
 CURIOSITIES of HERALDRY; with Illustrations from Old 
 English Writers. By Mark Antony Lower, MA. author of "Essays on English 
 Surnames;" with illuminated title-page, and numerous engravings from designs by 
 the Author. 8vo, cloth, 14s. 
 
 PEDIGREES of the NOBILITY and GENTRY of IIF.RTEORD- 
 
 SIIlllE. By William Berry, late, and for fifteen years. Registering Clerk in tl 
 
 lege of Amis, author of the " Encyclopaedia lleraldiea," ice. &.c. Folio (only li5 
 
 printed). £1. 5s. (original price £3. 10s). 
 
 GENEALOGICAL and HERALDIC HISTORY of the Extinct nnd 
 Dormant BARONETCIES of England, Ireland, and Scotland. By J. Burin 
 
 Medium 8vo. Second Edition. & - . ted pages, ia ./ mble columns, with 
 
 lQOOJrms engrared on wood, fine portrait if James 1. Cloth. It's, (original price 1 
 
 ENGLISH SURNAMES.— An Essay on Family Nomenclature, B - 
 
 toxical, Etymological, and Humorous; with several illustrative Appendices By Mark 
 
 Antony Lower. MA. '2 rols. post Bvo. Third Edition, enlargt (loth. 1-s. 
 
 This new and much improved edition, be- Allusive Arms, and the Roll of 
 
 ■ides a great enlargement of the chapters, Abbey, contain dissertations on [nn Signs 
 
 contained in the previous editions, com- and remarks on Christian nanus; with a 
 
 prises several that are entirely new. to- copious Index of many UiOUSand names, 
 
 gethcr with notes on Scottish, Irish, and These feature., render "English Surnanied" 
 
 Norman surnames The "Additional 1'ro- rather a new work than a m w edition, 
 lusions," besides the articles on Hi buses, 
 
 INDEX to Tin: PEDIGREES anp ARMS oontained in the HeraldV 
 
 Visitations and other Genealogical Manuscripts in the British Museum. Bj K Suns, 
 of the Manuscript Department - printed in double columns. Cloth. 15s. 
 
 An indispensable work to those engagt d ing the different families of the same name 
 
 tn Genealogical and Topographical pursuits, in any count] . as recorded bj the Heralds 
 
 affording a ready clue to the Pedigrees and in their \ s m d tin- wais 1698 
 
 Arms of nearlj 10,000 of the Gentrj •<( to 1686. 
 
 England, then- Residences, 8x. (distin 
 
 AGR\MM\K ot BRITISH BLEBALDBY, consisting of "Bkwm" 
 and " liarshalling ." with an Introduction on the His.- .mil Progress of Symbols and 
 Ensigns. Ry the Rev. W. Sloane-Evans, BA. Bvo, with I uprising up- 
 
 wards of \W figures. Cioth. ;>s. 
 
 One of the hest introductions ever pub 
 
JOHN RUSSELL SMITH, 36, SOHO SQUARE, LONDON. 13 
 
 A PLEA for the ANTIQUITY of HERALDRY, with an Attempt 
 to Expound its Theory and Elucidate its History. By W. Smith Ellis, Esq., of the 
 Middle Temple. &vo, sewed, Is. 6d. 
 
 BAR ONI A ANGLIA CONCENTRATE ; or, a Concentration of all 
 the Baronies called Baronies in Fee. deriving their Origin from Writ of Summons, and 
 not from any specific Limited Creation ; showing the Descent and Line of Heirship, 
 as well as those Families mentioned hy Sir William Dugdale, as of those whom that 
 celebrated Author has omitted to notice: interspersed with Interesting ^Notices and 
 Explanatory Remarks. Whereto is added the Proofs of Parliamentary Sitting from 
 the Reign of Edward I to Queen Anne ; also, a Glossary of Dormant English, Scotch, 
 ami Irish Peerage Titles, with references to presumed existing Heirs. By Sir T. C. Banks. 
 2 vols. 4to, cloth, £3. 3s; now offered for 15s. 
 
 A book of great research by the well- former works. The second volume, pp. 210- 
 
 known author of the "Dormant and Extinct 300. contains an Historical Account of the 
 
 Peerage," and other heraldic and historical first settlement of >"ova Scotia, and the 
 
 works. Those fond of genealogical pursuits foundation of the Order of -Nova Scotia 
 
 ought to secure a copy wliile it is so cheap. Baronets, distinguishing those who had 
 
 It may be considered' a Supplement to his seisin of lands there. 
 
 - « » <t> <i <$<£ <lt <& , Qt>(J> d> i l>g> t» «» ■ 
 
 $int arts. 
 
 PLAYING- CARDS.— Facts and Speculations on the History of 
 Plavins Cards in Europe. By W. A Ctaatto, author of the "History of Wood 
 Engraving;" with Illustration's by J. Jackson 8vo, profusely illustrated Kith 
 engravings, both plain and coloured. Cloth, £1. Is. 
 
 "The inquiry into the origin and signifi- subject. In spite of its faults, it is ex- 
 cation of the suits and their marks, and the cecdingly amusing; and the most critical 
 heraldic, theological, and political emblems reader cannot fail to be entertained by the 
 pictured from time to time, in their changes, variety of curious outlying learning" Mr. 
 opens a new field of antiquarian interest ; Chatto has somehow contrived to draw into 
 and the perseverance withwhieh Mr. Chatto the investigations." — Atlas. 
 has explored it leaves little to be gleaned "Indeed" the entire production deserves 
 by his successors The plates with which our warmest approbation." — Lit. Gaz. 
 the volume is enriched add considerably to " A perfect fund of antiquarian research, 
 its value in this point of view. It is not to and most interesting even to persons who 
 be denied that, take it altogether, it con- never play at cards." — Tent's Mag. 
 tains more matter than has ever before "A curious, entertaining, and really 
 been collected in one view upon the same learned book." — Eambler. 
 
 HOLBEIN'S DANCE OF DEATH ; with an Historical and Literary 
 
 Introduction, by an Antiquary. Square post 8vo, with 53 engravings — being the most 
 
 accurate copies erer executed of these Gems of Art — and a frontispiece of an ancient 
 
 be Istead at Aix-la-Chaptlle, with a Dance of Death carved on it, engraved by Fairholt. 
 
 Cloth, 9s 
 
 "The designs are executed with a spirit "Ces 53 planches des Schlotthauer sont 
 
 and fidelity quite extraordinary. They are d'une exquise perfection." — Langluis.Essai 
 
 indeed most truthful" — Athetucum. ' sur les Dances des Morts. 
 
 THE BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER {present Version). Small 8vo, 
 
 beautifully printed by Whittingham ; erery page ornamented with tcoodcut borders, 
 designed by Hans Holbein and Albert Durer, copied from the celebrated Book of Prayer 
 called "Queen Elizabeth's." Antique cloth, lOs.ftd.— Plain moroc, ... 
 
 and gilt edges, Iks. — Antique morocco, berelled boards, edges gilt and tooled, 16s. 6d. 
 Containing upwards of 700 pages. The designs represent scenes in Scripture 
 
 History, the Virtues and Vices, Dance of Death with all conditions of persons, &c. 
 
 &,c, illustrated with appropriate mottoes. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF PAINTING, with a Chronological History of the 
 Importation of Pictures hy the Great Masters into England since the French Evo- 
 lution. By W. Buchanan. 2 vols. 8vo, boarus, 7s. 6d. ^original price £1. Us.; 
 
14 VALUABLE AND INTERESTING BO 
 
 ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE 01 tot COUNTY op 
 
 ESSEX, from the Norman Era to the Sixteenth Century; with PI 
 
 Sections, Details, fee., from a Seri _- and Architectural and 
 
 Chronological Descriptions. By .lames Iluurield, Architect. Imperial 4to, B 
 leather back, cloth aides, £1. lis. 6d. 
 
 HISTOIRE DE L'ARCHITECTURE 8ACREE mi oraatri&Tne an 
 dMeme sie-cle dans les anciens - I S Par J l>. 
 
 Blavignac, Architecte. Om i Ltlas of 82 
 
 plates of Architecture, Sc .1 10». 
 
 A very rcinarkable Book, and worth the notice of the Architect, thi 
 and the Artist. 
 
 — #X%— 
 
 popular 13octrij, Kales, anti Superstitions. 
 
 — ♦ — 
 
 THE NURSERY RHYMES ov ENGLAND, collected chiefly from 
 Oral Tradition. Edited by J . 0. Halliwell. The Fifth Eiii with nu- 
 
 merous Designs, by II'. />'. Scott, Director of the School of Design, Se\rcastle-on-Tyne. 
 12mo, cloth, gilt leave*, -Is. (id. 
 
 POPULAR RHYMES AND NURSERY TALES, with Historical 
 Elucidations. By J. O. Halliwell. 18mo, doth, 4s. fid. 
 This vrry interesting volume on the Tra- Rhymes, Places and Familii a 
 ditional Literature of England is divided Rhymes, Custom Rhymes, and N 
 into Nursery Antiquities, Fireside Nursery Songs; a '< • wmber ■ - printed for 
 Stories, Game Rhymes, Alphabet Rhymes, the first time. It may be considered a 
 Riddle Rhymes, Nature Songs, Proverb sequel to the pro 
 
 OLD SONGS and BALLADS.— A Little B - ogs and Ballads, 
 
 fathered from Ancient Music Books, MS and Printed, by E. ¥. Kimliau;:, 1.1. I 1 , 
 .S.A., &c, elegantly printed in posl Bvo, pp 240 
 "Dr. Rimhnult lias been at some pains used to d light the rustics of former 
 to collect the words of the Songs which times." — A 
 
 BALLAD ROMANCES. By R. H. Home, Esq., Author of " Orion," 
 &c. 12mo pp 248), i loth 
 Containing the Noble Heart, a Bohemian •Pure fancy of the most abundant and 
 
 . the Monk of Swineshead Abbey, | 
 a ballad Chronicle ol the Death of Kong w 
 
 John; the Three Kn nelott, a to equal him since "the days of Drayl 
 
 Fairy Tale; the Bal id of Delora <>r the Hi 
 
 Passion of Andrea Como; B d I "The op d i ime is a 
 
 Wi Ish Legend , Ben Capsl n a Ballad of one one; n s entitled the V bli Heart,' 
 the Night Watch; the Elfe of th in title bul in treatment 
 
 lands, a Child's Story. well imitates" tin- style of Beaumont and 
 
 1 c . . 
 
 WILTSHIRE TALES, illustrative of the Manners . and 
 
 I of that ami adjoining I Lki mo. oi 1 ! 
 
 "We "ill conclude with a simple but th< litis 
 
 hearty recommendation of a little hook of rustic mann 
 which is as bum us tor the drolleries of TaUie'sWeeH 
 
 MERRY TALES 01 the WISE MEN of Gotham. Edited by 
 Jami b Orchard II al Bvo, Is. 
 
 SAINT PATRICK'S PURGATORY.- An Essay on the 1 
 Hell, i rrcnt during th 
 
 M \ F.S.A fee 
 " It musl bi rular chapter 
 
 ind all 
 I foi aier « i iters « tin 
 i ed i and we th 
 
 More- im n published. '—Littt 
 
JOHN RUSSELL SMITH, 36, SOHO SQUARE, LONDON. 15 
 
 23i6lt0grapfj2* 
 
 Handbook: to the library of the British museum ; 
 containing a brief History of its Formation, and of the various Collections of which 
 it is composed; Descriptions of the Catalogues in present use ; Classed Lists of 
 the Manuscripts. Sec; and a variety of information indispensable for Literary Men; 
 with some Account of the principal Public Libraries in London. By Richard Sims, 
 of the Department of Manuscripts. Compiler of the "index to the Heralds' 
 Visitations." Small 8vo (pp. 438), with map and plan. Cloth, 5s. 
 It will be found a very useful work to every literary person or public institution 
 in all parts of the world. 
 "A little handbook of the Library ha3 book to the Library of the British Museum,' 
 been published, which 1 think will he most which I sincerely hope may have the suc- 
 useful to the Public." — Lord Seymour's cess which it deserves." — Letter from Thos. 
 ■ in the House of Commons, July, 1854. Wright, Esq., F.S.A., Author of the 'Biogra- 
 
 Ueply i 
 
 i 
 
 am much pleased with your book, and phia Britannica Literaria,' Sfc. 
 find in it abundance of information which " Mr. Sims's 'Handbook to the Library 
 
 I wanted." — Letter from Albert Way, Esq., of the British Museum ' is a very compre- 
 
 I.S.A., Editor of the " Promptorium Far- hensive and instructive volume 
 
 vulorum," #~c. I venture to predict for it a wide circula- 
 
 "I take this opportunity of telling you tion." — Mr. Bolton Comey, in "Notes and 
 
 how much I like your nice little 'Hand- Queries," No. 213. 
 
 A MANUAL foe the GENEALOGIST, TOPOGRAPHER, AN- 
 
 TIQUARY, and LEGAL PROFESSOR; consisting of a Guide to the various Public 
 Records, Registers, Wilis, Printed Books, &c. &c. By Richard Sims, of the British 
 Museum, Compiler of the " Handbook to the Library of the British Museum," 
 " Index to the Pedigrees in the Heralds' Visitations," &c. 
 
 A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL CATALOGUE oe ENGLISH WRITERS 
 
 (WANGLING and ICHTHYOLOGY. By John Russell Smith. Post 8vo, sewed, Is. 6d. 
 
 B1BLIOTHECA MADRIGALIANA— A Bibliographical Account of 
 
 the Musical and Poetical Works published in England during the Sixteenth and 
 
 Seventeenth Centuries, under the Titles of Madrisrals, Ballets, Ayres, Canzonets, &c. 
 
 &c. By Edward F. Rimbault, LL.D., F.S A. 8vo,\-loth, os. 
 
 It records a class of books left unde- furnishes a most valuable Catalogue of 
 
 scribed by Ames, Herbert, and Dibdin, and Lyrical Poetry of the age to which it refers. 
 
 THE MANUSCRIPT RARITIES of the UNIVERSITY of 
 
 CAMBRIDGE. By J. 0. Halliwell, F.R.S. 8vo, boards, 3s. (original price 10s. 6d.) 
 A companion to Hartshorne's " Book Rarities " of the same University. 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT of the POPULAR TRACTS, formerly in the 
 Library of Captain Cox, of Coventry, a. d. 1575. By J. 0. Halliwell. 8vo {only 50 
 printed), sewed, Is. 
 
 CATALOGUE of the CONTENTS of the CODEX HOL- 
 
 BROOKIANUS. (A Scientific MS.) By Dr John Holbrook, Master of St. Peter's 
 College, Cambridge, 1-418-1431). By J. 0. Halliwell. 8vo, Is. 
 
 ACCOUNT of the YERNON MANUSCRIPT. A Yolume of Early 
 English Poetry, preserved in the Bodleian Library. By J. 0. Halliwell. 8vo {only 50 
 printed), Is. 
 
 BIBLIOTHECA CANTIANA.— A Bibliographical Account of what 
 has been published on the History, Topography, Antiquities, Customs, and Family 
 Genealogy of the County of Kent, with Biographical >.'utes. By John Russell Smith. 
 In a handsome 8vo volume (pp. 370), with two plates of facsimiles of Autographs of 
 33 eminent Kentish Writers, os. (original price 14s.) — Large Paper, 10s. 6d. 
 
 BIBLIOMANIA in the Middle Ages ; or, Sketches of Book-worms, 
 
 Collectors, Bible Students, Scribes, and Illuminators, from the Anglo-Saxon and 
 >onnan Periods; with Anecdotes, illustrating the History of the Monastic Libraries 
 of Great Britain. By F. S. Merryweather. Square l~mo," cloth, 3s. 
 
 
16 VALUABLE AX1 EH1 
 
 £H:srr llantrs. 
 
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J31 LIBRARY OF OLD AUTHORS. 45 vols, 
 fcap. 8vo, a complete set to the present time, 
 uniformly and handsomely bound in tree marbled 
 
 calf, gilt edges. £20. 1856—69. 
 
 Comprising: Marston'* Works, 3 vols ; Tier'? Plough- _ 
 
 man, 2 vols; Mather's Remarkable Providences ;, A- Ul M UJta. 
 
 Selden's Table Talk ; Drummond'a Poetical Work-; 
 
 Quarles' Enchiridion; hir Thomas Overburj'a 
 
 Works; "Wither'.- Hymns and Songs of the Church ;\romdences of the Earner 
 
 Witbert Hallelujah; Southwell's Toetical Works ; ^\'ith introductory Preface 
 
 Aubrey's Miscellanies ; Chapman's Homer, 5 vols; e 
 
 "Webster's Dramatic Works, 4 vols ; John Lilly's 
 
 Dramatic "Works, 2 vols; Crashaw's Poetical Works ^ahle SCa deliverarir 
 
 History of King Arthur and the Knights of the ft { . 
 
 Round Table, 3 vols ; Spence s Anecdotes of Books ' I i ' 
 
 and Men; Mather's Wonders of the Invisible -England. &C. &C. 
 
 World; Sackville (Lord Bnckhnrst) Works ;Remain«H portrait of the state of 
 
 of the Early Popular Poetry of England, 4 ▼olsjU provit l once aiu l personal 
 
 Lovelace's Lucasta, and other l'oeticai Works; r . 
 
 Roger Ascham's Whole Works, now first collected, aphat which JS unseen was 
 
 vols; Diary of Thomas Hearne, the Antiquary, Z 
 
 vols : Robert Herrick's Poetical Works, 2 vols. 
 
 .355 Soathwell (Robert) The Triumphs over 
 Death : a Consolatory Epistle for afflicted 
 Minds in the affects of Dying Friends, 
 lakge paper, 4to, boards, 5s 
 
 1596, repr., 1811 
 * Forming Part III. of "Archaica," edited by Sir 
 S. Egerton Brydges and J. Hazlewood. 
 
 774 Southwell (Robert) The Triumphs over 
 Death : a Consolatory Epistle for afflicted 
 Minds in the affects of Dying Friends, 
 large paper, 4to, boards, 4s 6d 
 
 and improved Edition, by 
 
 Em. 
 
 than this little book, con- 
 
 and conversation.- 
 
 )-t distinguiahed patriots 
 
 d the mosl eventful of our 
 
 ize so pregnant with sense, 
 
 filing ; it is impossible to 
 
 fcani feet or discus>ion. a 
 
 o the business of lite. It 
 te little manual, B 
 seldom fail- to remark in 
 were niv feelings and ex- 
 
 *** Forming Part III. of "Archaica," edited by Sir 
 S. Egerton Brydges and J. Hazlewood. 
 
 1596, repr. 1811 , i n giving to the world an 
 / ha 
 
 775 
 
 Marie Magdalen's Funerall Teares 
 
 union time has fully cou- 
 nt therefore 1 found that 
 as the highest authority, 
 idge thus emphatically 
 
 >1 
 
 for the Death of Our Saviour ; with life, 
 portrait, 12mo, calf, 2s 6d 
 
 1634, Repr., 1823 [ghtyTullion sense in thii 
 book than I ever found in the same number o( pages in any tin- 
 • '■ ■ ' ' not escaped the notice of 
 
 606 SOUTHWELL {Norfolcienns Soc. Jem) ^ to much it inca] 
 RKGULA Viva sen Analysis Fidei in Dm \**r A[ in praiae f tne p^nch 
 Ecclcsiam nos doeentis auetoritatem Antrer- ^ ]<yA WB ]ynv 0]K . t 
 pfo, 1638, small 4to, original calf i'l Is lden « a TaM( . Ta 
 
 Tli. Baoon, S.J., alias BouTHWXUn was born LOS, ]/,. > 
 
 joined the Jesuit* 1618, and was Professor of The. 
 ologyat Liege for eight yean His great qmelifi. U 
 oanoni gained for him ■ high reputation, end he >,-,,//, 
 exhibited considerable powers in controversy.— 
 Oii.low. His works are very scarce. I 
 
 . ; ' ■ u-licil, Mural. 
 
 mical, and Political. Portrait. 
 "Had this little book been written at Athena or Rome, its 
 author would have been olaesed with the wise men of his country." 
 
 //- '■''> y. 
 
LIBRARY OF OLD AUTHORS. 
 
 VOLUMES IN PEOGEESS. 
 
 Sie Thomas Oveebtjet's Works in Prose and Verse. Edited 
 by E. F. Eimbault. 
 
 Geoege Sandys' Poetical Works. Edited by John Mitford. 
 
 Remaines concerning Britain, by William Camden. The 
 Eighth Edition. Edited by Mark Antony Lower. 
 
 The Interludes of John Heywood. Now first collected, and 
 edited by F. W. Fairholt, 
 
 Pieces of Early Popular Poetry, republished principally from 
 early printed copies in the Blade Letter. Edited by Edward 
 Vernon Utterson. Second Edition. 
 
 The Iliads and the Odysses of Homee, Prince of Poets, never 
 before in any Language truly translated, done according 
 to the Greek by Geoege Chapman. Edited by Richard 
 Hooper. 
 
 The Journal of a Barrister of the name of ManninghaMj/o/' 
 the years 1600, 1601, and 1602 ; containing Anecdotes of 
 Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, Marston, Spenser, Sir W. 
 Raleigh, Sir John Davys, ${c. Edited from the MS. in the 
 British Museum, by Thomas Wright. 
 
 The Rev. Joseph Spence's Anecdotes of Books and Men, about 
 the time of Pope and Sivift. A new Edition by S. W. Singer. 
 
 The Prose Works of Geofeeey Chaucee, including the Trans- 
 lation of Boethiv.s, the Testament of Love, and the Treatise 
 on the Astrolabe. Edited by T. "Wright. 
 
 King James's Treatise on Demonology. With Notes. 
 
 Geoege Wither' s Hymns and Songs of the Church. Edited 
 by Edward Farr. 
 
 The Poems, Letters, and Plays of Sir John Suckling. 
 
 Thomas Caeew's Poems and Masque. 
 
 The Miscellanies of John Aubrey, F.R.S. 
 
 Published by JOHN RUSSELL SMITH, 36, Soho Square.