The gluttons feauer. VVritten by Thomas Bancroft

THE GLVTTONS FEAVER . IT was in heate of summer height of noone , When at the Sunne the Dog-starre seeme to bay , ( Like Wolues of Syria at the shining Moone , ) And with hot breath t' enflame the planets ray ; That , flatter'd forth to pleasures of the day , Where once vsurping Richard could not stand I chanc'd to walke , in center of this Land . The place did plea●e , ●o ●a●●e was Ambeame hill , That seem'd to swell , as proud of royall blood , Which on his border sharpest swords did spill , Where liues , a● cheape as leaues , were in the Wood. When downe the Valley ranne a sanguine Flood , As frighted with the horrour of the fight , And Earth did blush at such a sauage sight . Here pitcht my phansie on the Tyrants fate , That , for the poison'd dainties of a King , Like a rowl'd serpent flew vpon the State , As direly bent to ruine all to bring ; But here , disarmed of ambitions sting , Shot out his soule . Who thus to reach a Crowne Through blood doth swim , in blood doth iustly drowne . Richard , thought I , thy purchase was too deare , With thy soules quiet for a Crowne to part , That lasht with scourges of a cons●ious feare , Whose euery stroke sent horrour to thy heart , Didst at the glance of euery shadow start , As thinking still the hasty fiends did striue To deepest Hell to hurry thee aliue . But if these lightnings of infernall fire Thus blast the soule , and strike all comforts dead : Great Thunderer , how heauy lights thine ire , That , when all proppes are shrunke , all hopes are fled All painted cloudes of pleasure vanished , Falls on the wretched soule , and sinkes it low With stormes of horrour , to eternall woe ! With these impressions in my cloudy thought , I trauel'd on in birth of sad conceits , As euery obiect on my phansie wrought , Till neare dissolued in the melting heats Whose strong reflex on euery creature beats , I made mine eyes my harbengers , to take Some shady roome vp , till the day did slake . A neighbouring wood a noble Syluane owes , ( Fresh in remembrance of this fatall field , ) Which to adorne victorious Henries browes , That Princely armes so royally did wield , ( For Palme , and Lawrell , ) did tall poplar yeild , Whose trembling leaues still cause of terror find As still there were some danger in the wind . 'T was then the shelter to a panting heard Of falser hearts ; whose faces to the rere Had lost their Colours when the foe appear'd , But here relieu'd with many a natiue speare Put courage on , and 'mongst the thickest were . In safety here the dainty Pheasant flies , And timorous Hare may sleeping close her eyes , Hither my waight of weary limbes inclin'd , Where a quaint arbour , by some louer made Of sharpe-set Holly with faint Iuie twin'd , The embleme of his loue with loue repaid , Sraight entertain'd me with a pleasing shade ; While the mou'd leaues seeme in the sunny ray , Like guilded Laurell , ore my head to play . In such a Pallace might free pleasure raigne , Which the plum●d courtiers of the ayre did haunt , That proud of sunne-shine , in a lofty straine Did their owne praises to their echoes chaunt , Of highest worth did to their shadowes vaunt ; And those that seeme their symphony to hate Are Owles and Buzzards , birds of wretched fate . Here , like a Corse , bestucke with Cypresse boughes , I hid my sorrowes , while dull dreaming sleepe , In a darke vapour stealing on my browes , Did softly thence to euery member creepe , In iuyce of Mandrake did my senses steepe , That , like deiected cowards , now had left Their Fort besieg'd , of succour quite ber●ft . Deepe was my sleepe , and deepe , me thought , I went Into the bowels of a darke abysse , That woe and horrour did as much present , As highest Heauen doth happinesse and blisse To glorious ●aints , that worldly snares did misse . It was the caue , where blacke Destruction lies , Not fear'd , because not seene with mortall eyes . Here shall they languish in eternall night , Whom prisoners he takes , who nere tooke rest , Nor flying Comfort , nor estrang'd Delight ; But balefull Sorrow with his wounded brest , Harsh Horrour , Rage , and Famine most distrest , Pale wi●her'd Sicknesse , Paine , and wrinkled Care , With thousand Woes , his sad attendants are . Here Gluttony , enrag'd for want of food , Eates Enuies vipers , while the monster tires On her owne heart ; here in a freshing flood Lust doth his penance for his hot desires ; His owne life-blood here vengefull Wrath requires , Here Murther burnes on piles of dead mens bones , And vnder mounts of Gold oppression grones . Here lies Ambition , that no bound did know , Rowl'd in the dust , still sinking in disgrace ; Here rugged treason , full of wounds , doth flow , In his blood ; here Sloth , to finde his pace , Is sharply scourg'd , and in this dreadfull place I , like a plummet to the center flung , Did seeme a while in ayrie ballance hung . But what I heard , what mortall tongue can tell , Or eare containe , and not in sunder riue ? It was the moane the Glutton made in Hell , That , from his owne , vnto Heauen gates did driue Poore Lazarus , the wretchedst soule aliue ; But now of friends , wealth , pleasures all forsooke , With hideous cries this empty Kingdome shooke . Now , memory , be faithfull to my muse ; Tell how he begg'd , that erst so swel'd in pride , And what high language Abraham did vse , T'vpraid his life , that misery defi'd , Tell to his speeches what the wretch repli'd , Who , like an Oxe of fatall garlands proud , Thus in his fall began to roare aloud . Infernall sergeants , whether will yee hale A wretched creature ? to what depth of woe Must I descend in this Cimmerian vale ? Into this yawning furnace must I goe , Whose roaring entrailes pitchy horrours throw , To whose fierce flames a thousand Aetna's are As smallest sparkes , extinguisht with compare ? How far , how far from all supernall Light Am I thrust downe by rude imperious hands ? How deepe ingulfed in this caue of night ? How wrackt , and swallow'd , as in Seas , and Sands ? How fast chain'd vp in euerlasting bands , Here to abide th' Almighties fiercest ire , Whose frowne a flash , whose wrath 's eternall fire ? Faire Prince of light , that with thy roabe of Gold Doth decke the world , that in cold darknesse lay , Let me ( O ) still thy ioyfull beames behold , To these sad shades remooue thy court of day , Vouchsafe the splendour of one smiling ray ; At least once more vnto my comfort shine , And all the beauties of the Heauens be thine . What hideous storme of all confused woes My sense with paine , my soule with horrour smites ? What dreadfull ambush of vnnumbred foes Hath me begirt , whose ruthlesse rage delights To force these yells , whose gastly forme affrights 'Boue all the whippes of vengeance , or the darts Of grimmest death , oppos'd to guilty hearts ? Hath Nilus left no issue on his strand , But all his monsters in this dungeon pent ? Are there no Serpents on the Libian sand , But hither all transported to torment With scorching stings , and poisons deadly sent ? Which how it doth , ( all comfort quite to kill , ) With banefull steames this odious prison fill ? The sulp'hrous fumes , that from the flaming skies Blast the poore infant in the burdned wombe , Th' abhorred caues , where Plague , and Famine lies , Where neuer beame , nor breath of Heauen hath come , When the long buried vapours breake their tombe , Vent not so sicke a dampe , so foule a breath , As here enwrappes me in a Cloud of death , Ah dolefull eccho of this dreadfull caue ! At once to heare the wailing Dragons moane , The hungry Lion roare , the franticke raue , The weeping Hart bray , and the Mandrake grone , The cries of captiues in confused tone , Would with lesse horrour grate my tender sense , Than these harsh woes , that crie all comfort hence . Such is the musicke made of dying mones In this rude chantry , that no meane doth know , But treble shriekes the base of deepest grones , With heauy texour of lamenting woe , Taught by tormentours , that no pittie show . Strange consort , which no harmony commends , And yet keepes time , that neuer neuer ends ! That impious faction , Corahs rebell crew , Whom greedy vengeance snatcht aliue to Hell , When the cleft Earth did grimmest horrour shew ▪ And all on heaps to deepe-mouth'd ruine fell , Sent not so sharpe a shrieke , so loud a yell , As here from thousand throates with piercing sound Strikes euery eare , and leaues a gastly wound . Where fiends and Furies all at once vnchain'd , With pois'ned scourges to afflict me here , Where euery part with sense of torture pain'd , And euery sense his part of woe doth beare , Nor euer glimpse of comfort doth appeare ? Hath onely here dire Mischiefe chose to dwell , And heauiest Sorrow sunke his caue to Hell ? For Tyrian purple , and Achaian bysse , Here doe I lye close wrapt in sheets of fire ; For sumptuous fare ( my more than Heauenly blisse , ) Here thirst , and hunger on mine entrailes tire ; For mirth , here mischiefes to my paine conspire ; For a bright pallace , here s blacke Ruines stage , Where actors howle and hissing serpents rage . What tyrant ioyn'd these adamantine bands ? What Fury in my bowells built her Hell ? Is all my flesh a fire ? My bones the brands ? My sinewes all divul'st with passion fell ? Doe all my veines with liquid sulphur swell ? Cracke all mine arteries with tortures tride , Yet must more stormes , more wrackfull woes abide ? Great Heauen , that dost that Starry brow aduance , Thou , that the measures of quicke-turning time About the world eternally dost dance , Cannot so high these restlesse dolours climbe ? Cannot these cries , that drowne th' harmonious chime Of all thy spheares , some tender pittie moue ? Is there no beame of mercy shines aboue ? Why dost thou mocke with euer-blazing fires These ceaslesse torments , to enrage my woe ? O could my fury arm'd with strong desires Strike out those lights , that neuer comfort shew , And on that proud roofe rusty darkenesse throw : Into how blind , and rude a Chaos should Those wheeles of time , thy giddy orbes be rowl'd ? What tempest fights thus sharply in my paines , That , in the ardours of this quenchlesse fire , Shiuers a hundred winters through my vaines , Nor suffers once my torments to respire ? Fond wretched soule to chase a wild desire To this sad fall , and for fraile earthly toyes Loose an eternall Iubile of ioyes ? Abhorred Sinne , that on the world didst plucke Vast ruine downe , too heauy to be borne ! Thou , that a scarre on natures brow hast stucke , With thornes and thistles hast her beauties torne , And stript her of her roabes diuinely worne ! Thou , deadly plague , the poison'd spring of all Mans fatall woes , maist triumph in my fall . Damn'd hagge , that all in mischiefe hast out gone , Whose very breath infects all vitall aire ! Seuen-headed monster , that to senslesse stone Dost turne the heart , and sinke it in despaire , To th' vgli●st shape transform'st the creature faire ! How haue I troden all thy flowery , sweet , But cursed paths , that in this dungeon meet ! O Pride , high traitour , eldest child of hell , Apparant heire of misery , and shame ! Thou bane of blisse , that mad'st bright Angells swell Till they burst Heauen , and downe in legions came ! Bold mischiefe at the highest throne to aime ! How haue I follow'd all thy steepe desires , And flashing riots , to these flaming fires ! And thou , foule Gluttony , deepe gulfe of sinne , Full Sea of mischiefes , that with swelling tide Dost bring lust , sloth , with traine of sorrowes in , And rankely spring'st each vitious weed beside ; How ( like a stalled beast ) by thee , and pride Haue I beene fed , and drest for greedy hell , That I thus deepe into his bowells fell ! O eyes , why were yea blind to heauenly light ? O eares , why deafe vnto the prophets sound : O hands , why were yea lame to render right ? O knees , why stiffe , and strange to hallowed ground ? O feet , why slow to haue safe vertue found ? Curst be yea all , vile traitors , most vnkind , That with his foes against your Lord combin'd . Curst be this tongue , base organ of deceipt ; Curst be this braine , that did high pride admire ; Curst be this heart , that burn'd in lustfull heat ; Curst be this spirit , that still blew the fire ; Curst be this flesh , the forge of lewd desire ; Curst be all senses , parts ; and powers of mine , That did all wayes of blessed life decline . How haue I rauell'd out the knotty thread Of mortall life , that in our prime of yeeres Hides wormes and dust within a flowery bed ? 'Twixt Earth and Earth 't is but a straite of teares , A helplesse palsie of weake faithlesse feares , A storme of sighes , a bubble fill'd with breath , That swells , and shines , but vanishes in death . Did I enioy , ( or were they all but dreames ? ) All sweets of pleasure , heights of all delight , That with swift motion , as the sunnie beames , Tooke wing , and with irreuocable flight Left me to horrours of this endlesse night , ( Like a shot starre , ) from prides high turrets throwne To Stygian deepes , where comfort neuer shone ? Where 's now that wealth would counter-poize my woes ? Ill-honour'd Mammon , that with daring hand Dost cast at Kingdomes , and of Crownes dispose , Yet art a God of such a short command ! And you , faint friends , that by our fortunes stand , How soone you loose vs in a maze of griefe , Nor euer will be found to yeild reliefe ! Prodigious world ! the rende'vouz of Hell ! Vast Sea of danger ! Nursery of woes ! Great shoppe of vanities , where all will sell ! Blacke stage of mischiefes ! Field of mortall foes ! Rude garden-plot of vice , where rankely growes In euery bed , lust ; in each border , pride , 'Mongst choicest plants some banefull weeds beside ! Old faithlesse baud ! Enchantresse ! More vntrue Then treasons heart ! More various then the Moone ! More counterfeit then the Camelians hiew ! How hast thou clipt my golden hopes so soone , Blasted and darkned all my ioyes at noone ! How hast thou borrow'd all my time and strength , And paid me home with miseries at length ! There 's not a path in all thy spacious round , But is with snares and traps , and serpents stor'd ; No piece of all thy painted beauties sound , But for some blemish or disease abhor'd ; No limbe but lame , and for some wound deplor'd : Now haue I follow'd all my guilefull traines , And pleasing dangers , to these lasting paines ! Shall I nere more thy ioyfull face behold , Thy face , O Heauen , where lasting beauties shine ? Nor ( that which fairer seem'd , ) my glittering Gold ? Did I at once my treasures all designe ? Where are my Robes ? my junkets ? and my Wine ? My swarmes of friends ? like busy Gnats , each one Fill'd , and flowne off , all in an instant gone . Where is that coast , where safety doth reside ? Those bounteous Fields with Oliue blest , and Vine ? Those swelling Hils , the lofty walkes of pride ? Rich Vales ? faire Brooks , whose straying course , like mine , So pleasant seem'd , and downeward did decline ? In one dead sea are all my pleasures drown'd , All comforts wrackt , and neuer to be found ? For now false pleasures , that no sooner wed But were diuorc'd , no sooner gain'd but gone , Hath my damnd'd soule , in errours night mis-led , Lost the true treasures to the world vnknowne , The rich possession of a heauenly throne , With the blest vision of that forme diuine , Where thousand sunnes of light and glory shine ! Were Fates so kind , as to the coasts of light To send me backe , and thread my life againe : O Heauen , how for thy Kingdome would I fight ! How striue , and climbe the blessed Palme to gaine , In that high Court of happinesse to raigne ! How should mine ages second course abound With fruits of grace , to be with glory crown'd ! My meat should be the dainties of the Word , Strongly concocted with the heate of zeale ; My Wine , such as the Bride-groome doth afford , My mirth , sweete heauenly mercies to reueale , And my whole age but one continued meale . So would I prooue a Glutton then , and spend My lifes reuenue to that gratefull end . My garment should be Innocence , as white As Chastity could blanch it , spangled round With Gold of pure example shining bright , Embroidred with rich vertues on the ground , With constancies rare border fairely bound . So would I then be proud , and loath to hide From the worlds eyes such ornaments of pride . My house should be the Hospitall of poore ▪ My Barne their granary , my Gold their rent ; Still should the Altars smoake , and on the floore Of the blest Temple should my knees be bent , Mine eyes should flow , my beaten brest relent ; On Heauens pure beauties would I fixe my heart , Nor should the stroke of thunder make it start . Thus to her load-starre should my soule incline , My breathed flesh still panting vp the hill ; My studies should be height of things diuine , My teacher , truth ; till happiest in my skill I did my heart with sacred wisedome fill , And knew the mysteries of Heauen as well . As now ( alasse ! ) the misteries of Hell . Dire Conscience ! what thunder broke thy rest . And did not dash thy prisoner to ayre ! How dost thou now lye worming in my brest , That raging Hell doth not more grimly stare Then thy wild lookes of horrour , and despaire ! How hast thou hung each action vpon times Neglected file , and registred my crimes ! Why dost thou twit me with voluptuous pride , How ill I spent the treasure of my time , My thoughts mis-centerd , all mine actions wry'd In falsest aimes ; yet in my pleasures prime , Whose headlong course did steepest dangers climbe , Wouldst neuer prompt me how this fall to shunne , Whilst I to Hell in full careere did runne ? As a high Rocke , hung on the craggy side Of some steepe Mountaine , swelling with disdaine Of the low Region prostrate to his pride , Shooke with an Earth-quake , tumbling downe amaine With thundring terrour on the trembling plaine , That the tost aire from euery caue rebounds , And deafes the Vales with loud confused sounds : So , hurried on , to ruine did I haste , Whilst yawning fiends my funerals did yell , That on my treasures mount had pitcht so fast , As nought should shake me , ere I headlong fell ; So firmely , as a Rocke , I seem'd to dwell , And rockt a sleepe in downy pleasure lay , 'Till mischiefe rouz'd , and seaz'd her cursed pray . Iniurious Time , that vnto light doth bring The worst of things , yet me to darknesse sent ! Cannot I plucke one feather from thy wing , Recall one houre of thousands vainely spent , Wherein I might my wretched age lament ? 'T were worth a Kingdome , wert thou now my friend , A dearer fauour Time could neuer lend . Then would I purge the venome of my heart , And beate my brest , that did the viper keepe ; With sharpe compunction euery sense should smart , My clouded braine with sad defluxion weepe , And all my sinnes lie drown'd in sorrowes deepe : So some few minutes might my losse repay , And crowne a blacke night with a ioyfull day . What heauy darknesse , highest Lord of Light , Doth thus oppresse me in this dreadfull place ? Ah! might I once enioy thy blisfull sight ! T' admire new worlds of wonder in thy face ! How were I happy in so high a grace ! Once to behold , ( though then for euer blind , ) In one blest knot , all beauties sweete combin'd ! High-honour'd Victours , ioyn'd in glorious Quiuers To sing his praises , that your conquest crown'd , Where hoasts of Angels , like bright mounting fires , Tread the dimn'd Stars in measure to the sound ; Whilst wretched I sighes , plaints , and cries confound , T' haue lost at once both Crowne and State diuine , For pleasures base , for sinnes deceitfull shine ! If I haue mourn'd to see that Prince of day , When the pale loue-sicke Lady of the maine In a kind treason clipt his golden ray , But straight restor'd it to the world againe , How should mine eyes these bitter floods refraine , But weepe his absence , at whose glory bright A thousand sunny Lampes their beauties light ? Haue I not seene a daring vapour rise High into ayre , ambitious to ascend , But straight imprison'd in the cloudy skies , How it spittes lightning , roares , and seemes to rend Those glittering curtaines , as at once to spend . The angry engines of hot Heauen , to fright , And start old Chaos from the deepes of night ? How then must I for euer damned thrall , Barr'd from my blisse , and center of my rest , The soueraigne prize , and source of pleasures all ; That onely feast's the spirit , fill's the brest , In endlesse honours doth the soule inuest ; How must I here in woes , that know no bound , Then the whole world a dearer soule confound ! Those slumbering yeeres , I did in pleasure spend , Why did they wake in death , in woe expire ? Or , sith so soone they started to their end , Stopping the torrent of my wild desire , Why should my torments in this ruthlesse fire Suruiue all ages , and my griefes amount To higher summes , then euer time shall count ? Oft haue I knowne an exhalation trie The centers strength , and trembled to behold How it shooke Mountaines , and dranke Riuers dry . Still thirsty of reuenge , as if it would ( For false imprisonment ) the Earth haue rowl'd From her deepe seat , the massie base vp-blowne . And the huge frame to vaste confusion throwne . And doe I here , empal'd in floods of fire , That trembles to behold the farthest light , Struggle with dying panges , and nere expire ; Yet arm'd with rage , my miseries to right , Confound not Heauen , and Earth in fell despight ; That I might see , though in ●he ruin'd skie , Some sparkes of ioy , before all comfort die ? Vp Snaky vengeance , in a fiery storme Bring on thy Furies , all the cursed band ; I shall out-face thee in thy vgliest forme ; Shake all thy whippes , and kindle euery brand , Thou shalt not fright , nor force me from my stand : Let me , that here all hoasts of Heauen defie , Thy Stygian troopes , all plagues infernall trie . Come griesly torturers of ruthlesse Hell , My coale-blacke scorpions , ( i● no blacker art Hath charm'd your rage , that chain'd in darknesse dwell , ) Fixe all your stinges in center of my heart , With poinant anguish strike through euery part ; And where more strong some vitall force remaines , Set to your tortures , sharpen all my paines . O for some pyramid , to proudest fame Rear'd high as Babell , on whose mounting spire , ( Sith I must perish in a cursed flame , ) Like some dire meteor streaming blood and ire , I might stand centred in this hellish fire , That with hot fury might his axell burne From the maine globe and all to cinders turne . 'T were worth my ruine 'mongst the starres to fall , Like Lucifer shot headlong for his pride ; To see the bolts of vengeance grind the ball Of the curst Earth , benighted nature slide To her first dungeon , and all creatures hide Their formes in darkenesse ; 't were a sport to make Confusion shout , and hell with laughter shake . But whither runnes my madnesse ? how I raue ? Must woe and mischiefe euer be my theame ? Still must I call for death , yet keepe the graue ? Through rage and anguish must I still blaspheame , And fry , and freeze , with heat , and cold extreame ? Still must I howle at heauen , and bite my chaine , And gnash my teeth through horrour of my paine ? Were I more yeeres then time hath minutes spent , Or this burst frame would into atomes fly , In all the plagues , deepe hell could ere inuent , Adiudg'd to languish , and vnpitied lie ; Yet lastly liue , or , lost in darkenesse , die : Still were my hope a Halcyon , to appease These angry stormes , and calme these boiling Seas . Were the hot engines , all that euer flew With red-wing'd lightning , to my torture cast ; Vnto more flames , then euer Aetna threw , Were I condemn'd and yet releas'd at last , When thousand myriads of slow yeeres were past : 'T w●re yet a solace , that , in darkesome night Of heauiest woes , would shew my sorrowes light . But ( Oh the griefe ! ) this euer-raging fire , Which the incensed breath of heauen doth feed , Th' immortall death , that on my heart doth tire , This cursed heart , that euermore must bleed , How farre it doth the direst thought exceed ! How quite confound me in a state of woe , That onely hell is deepe enough to know ! But stay , what wonders doe mine eyes behold ? What strange impressions in so high a spheare ? Two sunnes at once embeam'd with flaming Gold ? Rather two Saints , that in that State appeare ? What thrones they hold ? what Palmes in triumph beare ? What Diademes they weare ? what Roabes , that shine ( Not like my purple , but ) like rayes Diuine ? 'T is Abraham , for Faith so farre renown'd , With that Saint-begger , was so low debas'd With wants and sores , but now with glory Crown'd . Blest Lazarus ! how highly is he grac'd ! With how deare armes of amity embrac'd ! His lifes poore stocke he might with comfort spend , That was assur'd of such a bosome-friend . I will assay what mercy raignes aboue That with some truce affliction may befriend . Deare Patriarch , if paine may pittie moue , If sorest throwes , that euer heart did rend , If heauiest sorrowes may so high ascend , To a sad captiue curst to blackest woe With fauour shine , and some sweet comfort show . Thou that , enthron'd vpon the golden Poles , Dost drinke rich Nectar from th' i●mortall spring To thy ioy'd children there triumphant soules , ( So may fresh armies serue thy Heauenly King , And vnto thee glad newes of conquest bring , ) Doe not in honours happy court disdaine A wretches plaint , the language of my p●ine . Let from thy bosome Lazarus descend , With one cold droppe my burning tongue to slake , One droppe of water on his fingers end : For ( oh ! ) my torments in this fiery Lake , At whose dread Name the peccant soule should quake , Who can expresse ? my sorrowes boundlesse are , As are thy ioyes , and both beyond compare . For cursed Sodome didst thou strongly pleade , When ore their sinnes incensed vengeance hung ; But more dire droppes this goary heart hath bled , Then on those heads the flaming tempest flung , A hotter storme broyles this bewailing tongue : Then let thy pitty to my plaints awake , And on my woes some deare compassion take . He ended ; when , as if the spheares had rung Some tune-full change , or thunder learn'd to chide In milder language , or some Cherub sung ; With powerfull voyce , that Hell to silencety'd , From his high throne the Patriarch repli'd , Whose sacred words , first steept in heauenly dew , Thus from his lippes in golden vollies flew . What change is this ? what wonder strikes mine eare ? Art thou the man that did supinely sleepe On pleasures couch , vnto the world so deare , That now , benighted in th' infernall deepe , Dost thus ra●e out thy sorrowes , howle , and weepe ; While I scorn'd wretch , that at thy gates did pine , Doth in full Orbe of heauenly glory shine ? Where 's now your power , you , that proudly could Lead your blind Goddesse in a golden chaine ? Where now your roabes so gorgeous to behold ? Your mounts of Gold rais'd in your worldly raigne ? Of friends and parasites your pompous traine ? Did all like leaues , fly with your flitting breath , And leaue you naked in that storme of death ? Fond prodigall to spend an age of Gold , And act at last a woefull beggers part , When nought auailes thy sorrowes to vnfold ! A thousand times vnhappy that thou art , That 'boue thy dish wouldst neuer raise thy heart , When mercy smil'd vpon thee from the skies , How canst thou now lift vp those wretched eyes ? Doe but thy times of pleasure now record , That didst no God , but Gluttony , confesse ; For whom thy house a Temple did afford , Whose Altar was thy table of excesse , Which still the fattest Sacrifice did presse ; The hallowed water was delicious wine , The fire , thy lust , that neuer did decline . Amongst thy cuppes , with Rosy garlands crown'd , Cens'd with perfumes , in Princely purple drest , All cares extinct , all sorrowes deepely drown'd , Still didst thou sit , becalmd with ease and rest , Mirth in thy face , and solace in thy brest ; But as for Heauen , it was ( a Pole ) to high For thy bruite sense , that would to pleasure fly . On basest Earth was centred all thy rest , That drossy masse , expos'd to lowest scorne ; Which how it seemes like some foule wormy nest , Of nature quite abandon'd and forelorne , Clos'd in the thicket of sharpe rending thorne , Whose prickles , cares , whose leaues , deceitfull arts . And stony fruits are hard vnfruitfull hearts ? 'T is but a Field , where sinne corruption sowes , Where euery breaths infection blastes an eare , Against the graine where euery creature goes : Yet on this sandy base , that nought will beare , How high thou didst thy bold ambition reare , Whose honour 'fore the thunder-clap of death Was but a flash , and vanisht with thy breath ? Looke how a Porcpisce , in the boyling Maine , Ioy●d with the newes of some tempestuous blast , Playes in the waues , as in the winds disdaine ; While the poore Sea-man sadly climbs his Mast , Folds vp his sailes , and in his frights agast Heaues his pale eyes these powers to implore , To waft his light Barke to the restfull shore : So , let high Heauen , that with a piercing beame Disclouds each thought , his wrathfull forehead bend : Still wouldst thou wallow in full pleasures streame : Let poore pin'd Lazarus all day extend His bloodlesse hands and throate with clamours rend : Yet , as thy heart had from some Rocke bin hew'd , Nor storme it fear'd , nor calme of pitty shew'd . Now shall thy iudge thy cruelty requite , And strike that fire from out thy flinty brest , Shall to his glory lend a forced light : Nor shall the throwes of anguish euer wrest The tune-full heart , with heauenly vertue blest , Nor sinne still trumph , but too late shall thinke Vengeance nere sleepes , though iustice seeme to winke Still , still ingulfed in that Brimstone-flood , That rowles about those griesly vaults of night , Shalt thou bewai●e that lost eternall good , Whereof this Saint enioyes the ioyfull sight , A plenilune of neuer-waining light , Whose very glimpse would cleare all clouds of woe , And make to life dead seas of sorrow flow . Behold this Bower , rear'd so high aboue Those iarring elements their heate and cold , Those cloudy Tents , that with the wind remoue , Or restlesse Orbes with rapid motion rowl'd : No Earth quake vndermines this happiest hold , Vpon these battlements no tempest fals , No thunder batters these imperiall Wals. It is that Pallace , built to lasting ioyes , Into whose height the King of glory goes , That in his hand the mundane Globe doth poize , And to the blest a world of pleasure showes ; To whom he doth rich Diademes dispose , That here , ( as pendant on the golden threads Of their pure liues , ) adorne their happy heads . Wall'd all with Iasper is this lofty Bower , Which , as his base , vnualued gemmes vphold ; The Porters , Angels high in place and power ; Each gate , a pearle of bright celestiall mould ; The pauement , Starres , fixt in eternall Gold ; Roof'd , as with Siluer , with condensed flame Of glorious light , that filles th' immortall frame . In dazeling splendour of ten thousand dayes Shines the high Monarch , that all glory lends , Sunning all treasures in those precious rayes , On whom the heauenly hierarchie attends , As on whose Throne all vitall ioy depends . In his pure beames let flights of Angels soare , And with presented Crownes all Kings adore . Pay worlds of Nations tribute to this King , That doth their States in happines inuest ; Let his high prayses with the Sunne take wing , And cleare the Firmament from East to West . Great glorious Lord , by all thine Armies blest ; Thou , in whose hand I see that golden reed , Measure my heart , and let my zeale proceed . Pure Maiesty , that mayst all Crownes refine ! Thrise hallowed flame of light , of life , of loue ! Bright Orbe of grace , that doth to glory shine ! High treasurer of honours stor'd aboue ! Circle , and center vnto all that mooue ! Natures sweet Organist ! thy highest straine What voyce can reach , to sing thy happi'st raigne ? One beame of thine out-shines a world of light , One call would start corruption from the graues , One glance would cleare the cloudy brow of night , One nod becalme the Oceans surging waues , One smile send sorrow sighing to his canes , One Altar-sparke of thine in lightlesse Hell Would kindle day , and all the shades dispell . Of Heauens rich beauties to the rauisht sight One mirrour here all treasures doe reflect , One Globe all beames of glory doth vnite , One load-starre all the voyagers direct , One soueraigne power in safety all protect , One banquet here both soules and senses feasts , And filles ▪ and feeds , nor euer cloyes the guests . The ten-fold curtaine of these azure spheares Serues but to vaile this Arke from fleshly eyes ; But when her head the soule exultant reares , With open wings where heauenly glory flies , What wonder doth her faculties surprize ! How doth she here extend her powers wide To drinke in pleasures from the boundlesse tide ! A glittering Ocean of cleare wauing glasse Melts from the Throne of Maiesty diuine , That Edens floods in purenesse doth surpasse , Where seuerall droppes the galaxy out-shine , That , mixt , would change the brackish waues to Wine , And the blacke lake , where Sodome erst did burne , To precious streames of liquid Crystall turne . So , when the planets louely Prince doth fixe His dazeling beauties on some spongy cloud , Where the braue beames in gorgeous colours mixe , The rorid vapor of such honour proud , To be in Heauen so gloriously embow'd , Dissolues in ioy , and 'bout the burning skies In siluer droppes the melting treasure flies . Here the glad pilgrime , crown'd with lasting wealth , Viewes his bath'd limbes from euery blemish cleare . Nor cares to weed the wonted fields for health : Here mounts that tree , whose flourish all the yeere For sacred guests doth soueraigne banquets beare , In whose rich tast delicious pleasure flowes Into all formes , and heauens all sweetnesse showes . Not Angels dainties in the Desert shar'd , Nor honied milke of Cana'ns flowery brest , Haue with this plants rare delicates compar'd ; Vnder whose shadowes sleepes eternall Rest With ioyes surcharg'd , of treasur'd hopes possest : Who tast this fruit the Serpent haue beguil'd , Nor with foule lusts their shiny soules defil'd . No thirst nor hunger shall their ioyes deuoure , No wanes of sorrow shall their browes enfold , No boisterous storme their vernant prime defloure ; Where beauty knowes not age , nor age makes old . O wondrous change of base inglorious mould ! Blest soules , that in afflictions roughest maine Wracking their sinnes , this heauenly Hauen gaine ! Here are no pageants to inuite the sight , No syren-songs to rocke the slumbering eare , No generous wines t' exalt the appetite , No odorous fumes that spirits wont to cheare , No amorous claspe to draw affection neare ; And yet a fulnesse , where all faire and sweet , All lines of life , all pathes of pleasure meet . A glorious triumph with high honours blest , An aire of harmony that filles the quires , A rich rare banquet , an ambrosiacke feast , A sweet perfume that with no time expires , A ioy sublim'd in loues high sacred fires , A pleasures maze , an Ocean , where to drowne Is depth of blisse , a Kingdome and a Crowne . Harke , how these Hero's , that in honour'd quest Of higest blisse did to this mount aspire , Shout out their ioyes , with language not exprest ; How Zealous Dauid , clear'd with heauenly fire , Shrilles out his ditties to his golden lyre ; Whilst the rapt Angells with immortall layes Make vp the musicke , and their Makers praise . Here may the souldier , that with painefull march Did to such height of happinesse ascend Hang vp his armes in this triumphall arch . And treasures share , that time shall neuer spend : The Sea-sicke voyager let hither bend A dextrous course ; though now he plow the maine , A bounteous haruest shall reward his paine . Who euer noone with midnight did compare , A hallowed Temple with a pestred roome , The beames of Maiesty with clouds of care , A marriage-chamber with a fatall tombe , Or to the spacious world the narrow wombe ; Let him to Heauen all earthly ioyes oppose , And all his lines in deepes of wonder lose . Were I againe to walke the worldly round , A thousand hopefull Isa'cs would I slay , Till with deare blood I had the Mountaines drown'd , To gaine one glimpse of this eternall day ; Which might my faythfull sonnes but once suruay , How would they impe their hearts with fleete desire To mount this pitch , and to these ioyes aspire ! What is lifes winter to this spring of yeeres , But a loose meteor in fraile beauties skies , Disperst with sighes , and dropt away in teares ? 'T is but a flourish 'fore the fall prize , A knot of miseries , that death vnties : And what desire 's so impotent , so base , T' adore a cloud , when Heauen presents his face ? In his prime vertues did the world consist ; All pretious bounties did the Earth afford , Which off that stage the banefull Serpent hiss'd In all the wealth her ample wombe doth hord Were man ensphear'd , and of great Nature Lord : Were he new stampt , and all his powers , am'd By his sleepe fall , in straight perfection fram'd ; Were all the sweets , that euer Zephyre blew , Wrapt in one cloud , and for his solace brought ; All fruits and flowers , that in Eden grew , Were they distill'd for his delicious draught ; Were euery sense with highest rapture caught ; Were his cleare heart to heauen erected right To measure heights of ioy , and pure delight : Yet were the ioyes of that delightfull state , ( Though freed from bonds of misery and paine , From times vicissitude , and stroke of fate , ) But as poore rivelets to the bondlesse Maine Of these high pleasures , but as scattred graine To these large fields whose haruest doth abound , That all the yeere is with rich plenty Crown'd , If with iust wonder mortall eyes behold One rising planet his refulgent grace , Wrapping the new-borne day in sheets of gold , All Heauen enflaming with his loueliest face ; Whilst from his throne he doth in conquest chace Vsurping darkenesse , that with mournfull night , Wing'd with blacke vapours , sadly takes her flight : What height of rapture doth the soule surprize , To see the Sun-shine of ten thousand dayes , With all the splendour of th' illustrious skies , Meet in full circle with vnited rayes , That to the veiw all heauenly treasures layes ! How shall this glory blesse with vitall light Those longing eyes , that hither bend their sight ! Into one Pandect were the spheares compil'd , With Tropickes claspt , with Hemicycles bound ; Were for my penns the Angells winges despoil'd : Mine inke , this Ocean , pretious and profound ; My characters , new Starres , of Heauenly sound ; Should I more leaues then euer Autumne shooke With wonders fill , in this Celestiall Booke : Yet should I scarce these treasur'd ioyes vnfold , In whose rich fulnesse Lazarus doth flow , And farre beyond all flight of time shall hold ; Whilst thou , damn'd Glutton , in excesse of woe Shalt surfet still , nor health , nor comfort know : Thou wouldst not giue one crumme all heauen to gaine , Nor maist thou hope one droppe to ease thy paine . From this bright Mount , where happinesse doth sit , 'Boue earthly change and heauenly motion plac'd , To the deepe darkenesse of th' infernall pit , The distance large , the latitude is vast , Nor euer embassie betwixt them past : Cast is their lot , vnchanged rests their state , That once haue past the broad , or narrow gate . Droppe out thine eye-balls in a briny shower , And beat thy heart , that would no sooner mourne : Though vast eternity shall time deuour , And in one flame the generall machine burne , Still shall thy wheele of torment sharply turne , When thou hast wearied all the Starres in sky , And sands on Earth , to summe thy sorrowes by . Here clos'd the musicke of that Heauenly tone ; When , as in depth of Hinnons gloomy vale , Some wretched infant on the Altar throwne , The bloody Priests with sacred horrours pale , ( Whilst the poore dying birth did shrieke and waile , ) Rais'd high their noise , and hideously did wound The eares of Heauen , that on the mischiefe frown'd : 'Mongst thousand thralls to plagues and tortures sent So wail'd the Epicure , more deepe distrest ; Thrise did he cracke his chaines , and thrise he rent The clinging Snakes from off his goary brest ; What wild despaire could to his thought suggest He taught his rage : and thus , with flaming breath , Gaspt in the panges of euerlasting death . O gulfe of horrour ! poison of my fate ! O depth of woe , that neuer thought could gage ! O waight of misery ! O dolefull state ! How quencht my comfort ! and how hot this rage Of torment , which no pittie doth asswage ! Ah that a creature frozen in despaire These flames should 'bide , and not dissolue to aire Curst that I am , how can my heart containe So vast a sorrow ? will the ioyfull day Of gracious mercy neuer dawne againe ? Wrackt is my hope ? and to this desert bay Will my lost comfort neuer find the way ? Must I for anguish euer howle among These hideous fiends , and gnaw this banefull tongue ? Woe to the authours of this wofull state , That poison'd nature with contagious seed : Woe to the wombe , where first I tooke my fate , Why did it not some Snake , or Scorpion breed ? Woe to the nurse did such a monster feed , And not some panther from the desert sent , That piece-meale might her cursed corps haue rent . Woe to the light , that first my life descri'd : Fate strike each minute of that hatefull day : That ominous circuit when the Sunne doth ride , Let him in cloudy darkenesse loose his way , And to the farthest frozen regions stray : That with his heat those Icy mountaines steepe May melting flow , and seeme my woes to weepe . When first I suckt the poysons of the world , Why drew I not destruction from the skies ? Why were not sheetes of flaming sulphur hurl'd Vpon my cradle ? nor did mischiefe rise In earthly damps to blast my hatefull eyes , That neuer fixt on Heauen ? how sadly slow Was vengeance , arm'd to strike the deadly blow ? Dread Lord , that mounted on the radiant spheares Dost as the dust the cloudy vapours raise , Let thy blacke whirlewinde , that the Mountaines teares , Wracke me at once , and drowne these dolefull layes , Teare , tosse , driue , loose me in thy stormy waies : Thou , that mou'st all things , vnto nothing turne The cursedst brand , that in these flames doth burne . Thou , that with swiftest embassie dost send The dreadfull lightning from the darkned skie , O let thy fierce cloud-bursting vengeance rend Through deepest Hell , and in thy tempest flye My fiery soule , but straight flash out and dye : That I may once more see thy glorious light , Though then to vanish into endlesse night . Thus all in vaine , as 'gainst both tide and wind , My sorrow sailes , as euery sigh doth driue : But of fiue brethren , which I left behind , Whose pride and luxury doth mine suruiue , What shall become ? if here they once arriue , How sharply will their miseries rebound Vpon my heart , and gall each bleeding wound ? Dearest of Saints , that art diuinely stil'd The friend of God , befriend his image so , As vnto these with worldly soile defil'd To let thy Lazarus ▪ with a message goe , And vnto them this depth of danger show ; How for those sinnes , that feed their lewd desires , I pine , thirst , burne in these vnquenched fires . Let him to light this horrid darknesse bring , These sulph'rous floods , and fell tormentours rage , That they may seeme to feele these serpents sting ; Let him the glory of Heauens ample stage And beauty blaze , that feares no dint of age ; That burning then with heauenly loue they might These flames preuent , and find that blisfull light . Natures first light , sayd Abraham , displaies A sacred shine , that cleares the darkest mind , And beautifies her sphere with heauenly rayes : This be their prospect ; be they nere so blind , They may in her the great Creator find : Religions noble seed , that rarely growes In fields of flesh , in euery brest she sowes . She as a volume doth her worke bestow , In euery race of creatures drawes a line ; Each plant her leaues doth for their learning show , And not an Asteri●ske doth faintly shine In Heauens high front , but is a marke diuine : No worme , weede , pebble wants his natiue worth , But creepes , growes , rests to set his Authour forth . These roabes of State , the high imperiall skies , Powdred with Starres , what dulnesse doth behold ; And not the greatnesse of that King descries , That in these vestures doth the world enfold ? Who sees the Sunne enthron'd in burning Gold , And not the Father of all heauenly light , That doth aduance this mirrour to the sight ? The wrath of Heauen who feeles and trembles not ? Who knowes his Armoury with terrors stor'd , His Wild-fire , Lightning , and his Thunder-shot , His burning Lance , his dart , and blazing Sword , Kindled and brandisht by his powerfull Word ; Who heares on high th' embatteled tempests roare , And fals not downe the great God to adore ? Who viewes the Earth in airy ballance waigh'd , With all her of-spring on that ample floore , With Riuers caru●d , with Minerals in-laid ; Who sees the Ocean with his scaly store , His watery Mountaines rowling to the shore ; And doth not thence in high reflection moue A heauenly beame vnto this Throne aboue ? Those wondrous powers of the subtile soule , That with deepe thoughts vnto the center flies , But in an instant mounts aboue the Pole , And linkes a chaine of causes to the skies , May they not learne her to be heauenly wise , To know where rest and happinesse are plac'd , And thither bend her motion , thither hast ? But that so various ●and so vast a frame , As the maine Orbe , so many turnes should last , Still kept in motion , still remaines the same , With euery wheele so firme , each pinne so fast , That not a ioynt is wrench'd , nor part displac●d ; How can it not the soule transported mooue To pay the heauenly tributes , feare and loue ? Lik a great Watch , whose maker is the Spring , Is natures frame , that euery shortest houre Should strike the soule , and make it loudly ring : And sound the praises of th' all-mouing Power , That thus inuites her to his heauenly ●ower , Thus in each creature , like inferiour Kings , By picture wooes , and all to knowledge brings . But his owne Language may thy brethren heare , From Heauens high Region doth his voyce resound ; The Temple and the Synagogues are neare , To these alone is their attention bound ; Plant they their feete vpon the hallowed ground , Whence let the flames of ardent zeale arise ; So shall they cleare their sinnes , and climbe the skies . Let them the volumes of great Moses turne , And learne what high Iehouah did ordaine , When to match Heauen the cloudy Mount did burne , Thunder and Trumpet did confound amaine Th' embattled terrours , that Earth shooke againe ; Thus to enflame and strike with sacred aw Each mortall brest , t' embrace th' eternall Law . Let them behold the Prophets heauenly flight , Those towering Eagles , that their eyes to prooue Pierc'd to the brightest Sunne , the Lord of Light , That the darke soule illumines from aboue : Those from the Mountaine could the cloud remooue , And let in sight to mysteries profound ; Truth is their spirit , happinesse their sound . There is that Antidote that foyles the graue , To cleare eternity there shines the way ; 'T is by that booke the Almighty Iudge doth saue ; It is that Port of light , that opens day , The powerfull influence that doth conuay Life to the soule , the happy seed that springes With humblest growth , but highest glory brings . There may they tast on stony Tables set That precious food , that time shall neuer wast ; Though fiercest Tyranny from Hell were fet , And with the world her cruelty should last : Where Death stood sentinell this Word hast past , And as the sunne , ( but with more heate and light , ) Shall cleare the world , nor euer yeild to night . There may they see in antique leaues enrowl'd That gracious charter , granted from aboue ; There may they faire Theosophy behold , Ennobled by her Serpent , and her Doue ; There may they reach linckt by diuinest loue The sacred vertues , as a chaine let downe , T' exalt the soule to her celestiall Crowne . Great worke of truth , whose structure doth excell ! Canon of iustice , that to lowest ground Beats downe the forts of sinne , and batters Hell ! Organ of mercy ! how for euer bound Is this blest Quire to its celestiall sound , That hath repair'd those ruines wrought by pride , And all these thrones with Kingly States suppli'd ! The warbling murmurs of the Siluer floods , The numerous swarmes that on fresh Hybla light , The whistling gales that fanne th' Arabian woods , The Swannes high rapture at his lowest flight , Strike not an accent of that sweet delight , That in this message of deare Heauen is found , Whose euery note doth precious Musick sound . Build all by that , as by a rule of Gold , Their liues faire structure ; in the mirrour bright Let them the soules each lineament behold , And dresse her beauties by that heauenly light , Which vnto all , that trauell day or night Through the worlds desert to this promis'd land , Doth for a cloud , and fiery piller stand . The lampes of heauen , and light ambitious fire Let planet-strooken Persia still adore , Nor higher let her sunne-burnt zeale aspire ; Her Eagles ayd let fighting Thebes implore ; Fall Babylon her mighty Whale before ; On monsters Memphis doate , and deepe in ground Seeke her greene gods , in euery Garden found . Let the blinde Ethnickes , barr'd from happier lights , Thus forge their gods in phans●es least diuine , And wrong religion with vnhallowed rites : Those clearer soules , that vnto Heauen encline , Must aime at God in his directing line : Vnto his precepts must they upright stand , Or headlong fall , and feele his dreadfull hand , As in a straight 'mongst Rockes , and Shelues , and Sands Is man emplung'd , nor happy course can steere ; But on the mount his great Directour stands , Giues him his Word , he shall finde safety nea●e ; When if he headlong rush , nor care to heare , What hope remaines him , or what reason why , But he should split , and wracke , and sinke , and die ? God , rich in goodnesse doth his bounties showre On euery creature : but with ample flood His precious blessing vpon man doth powre : Man that , vnkinde , forsakes that soueraigne good , Leaues the sweete Fountaine for th' infectious mud , And iustly beares his wraths eternall weight , Whose awefull Law his wilfull lust did sleight . Deepe in a prison full of wormes and snakes Lies every soule , to hopelesse bondage sold , But on the Patient , God compassion takes , And striues to raise her from that noysome sold : Where if she faile to fixe her faythfull hold On present ayd , what future end remaines Saue endlesse sorrows , plagues , and woes , and paines ▪ Then Let thy brethren , purg'd from fowle excesse , From banefull pride , and brutish cruelty , To safer paths their needfull steps addresse : Let them to Heauens blest oracles apply A chaster eare , and fixe a faythfull eye On those high hopes , whereof the heauenly Lord Assures the soule by truths eternall Word . There flowes that spring , that with a current faire Through Rockes of cruelty doth passage find , Through Hils of pride , through Vallies of despaire , Through Vaults of ignorance in darknesse blind , Through Mines of auarice with Hell conioyn'd : Through euery soile doth happily conuay His precious streames , and cleares his narrow way . There may they drinke , not surfet need to feare , And bath securely , though in flouds profound ; 'T is that their sinnes foule leprosie will cleare , Will cure the vlcers of their soules vnsound , And 'swage the rancour of that festred wound , Which the curst Serpent with a banefull sting Did erst inflict on natures tender spring . Let them that faire , that facile meanes embrace , On sacred truth , that firme foundation , stay ; And that deare Lord so sweet in gifts of grace , That with his loues fresh flowers doth aray The naked world , and strewes the Heauenly way , Let them aboue the clouds his mercies raise , And fill their mouths with his immortall praise . Thus if the treasure● of their age they spend , Lightned of sinne that Heauen cannot sustaine , They to these thrones of glory shall ascend : But , be their dayes extinct in pleasures vaine , Wha● but eternall darkenesse shall remaine ? While their loath'd bodies feed the wormie graue , Their soules shall waile in that infernall eaue . Here in a floud of anguish , sadly broke , The damned miscreant more deepely drown'd , 'Mongst teares and cries , and sobbing sorrowes spoke : Alasse ! though Moses should himselfe expound His holiest Lawes , they would but s●eig●● his ●ound , At least no faith , no 〈◊〉 would be len●● ▪ On deafned eares is musicke vainely spent . How oft the sword of vengeance did we see Brandisht ag●inst our Luxury , and pride , Voluptuous surfets , lust , and tyranny ? Yet to our hearts all passage still deni●d , All threats and terrours did our height deride : Not all th' Aegyptian mischiefes were of force Our loue-sicke hearts from pleasure to diuorce . But from the horrours of this gastly caue , Or from those mansions of eternall rest , Should some strange Legate , lately sent to graue , Returne , to tell what wretched soules vnblest To deepest plagues and torment were opprest ; Or what high ioyes their painefull cares repay , That vpward striue , and keepe the heauenly way : Then would they , sure , their sinfull heart discusse , And , pierc'd with griefe , their wretchednesse lament ; Had they no hearts , but Rockes of Caucasus Fixt in their breasts , they could not but relent With melting sorrow for their dayes mispent : Should such a messenger such newes relate , They would beleeue , nor doubt th' eternall State . No more , reply'd the Father-saint againe , Then if blind errour , straid from lightlesse Hell , With bold delusion should presume to faine , What summes of Angels from their stations fell . And what , vnchang'd , in brightest glory dwell , How neare the world his finall period hies , Or what more deepe in misty darkenesse lies . Those sacred sages , that to Heauen did lend New light , that clear'd all misteries diuine , That into leaues did golden truth extend , And vnto God drew soules with euery line , Haue open set so full , so rich a mine Of pretious weal●h , as may each soule suffice , That at iust rate doth heauenly treasures prize . So strong is Truth , that hath all fates withstood , Such arteries of life it doth display , Such nerues of power , veines of deerest blood , Of precious soule th' vnualued debt to pay ; So brightly shines that pure celestiall ray , Sent from the fountaine of supernall light , That springes the day , and cleares the cloudy night ? That who against such euidence offend , Such waight of sense , such Maiesty despise , Would not to stranger embassies attend , Though some pale prisoner from the graue should rise , And rippe vp Hells blacke bosome 'fore their eyes : Nere will they credit what the tru●● imparts , Whose brests are ston'd with such obdurate hearts . Should Heauen cracke thunder , till the melting skies Should droppe their starres , and threat an endlesse night ; Whilst , ioy'd with mischiefe , grimmest hell should rise , With all her plagues and tortures brought to light ; That from the horrours of the dismall sight The Sunne should start , and runne his golden head In pitchy cloudes , whilst day to darkenesse fled : Yet would the senslesse Earth as soone relent , And weepe new springs for hopelesse humane kind , As impious man his blackest crimes lament , That had become with beames of knowledge blind , Nor the high way to happinesse would find : The Key of grace that should the heart vnlocke When sinne excludes , it is but vaine to knocke . As heauens high court , so is that humbler way , That thither tends , bestarr'd with wondrous light , Which through the world their vitall beames display : God to his pallace euery soule invites ; Whilst man , regardlesse of celestiall sights , Neglects his call , and barres vp euery sense , As bent to keepe each heauenly blessing thence . Tyrant of nature , from his height depos'd , To drowne his proud dust in a maine of teares ! What he●●sh poison hath his senses clos'd , That , when high God doth from the burning Spheares Denounce hot vengeance , neyther sees nor heares , Nor feares his frowne , all creatures else doth awe , That with prone homage serue the heauenly Law ? Were he not fiercer then the sauage flockes , Were he not colder then the stormy ayre , Were he not harder then the flinty Rockes , Or prouder then th' aspiring Cedars are ; He would with shame or sorrow quite despaire , To finde himselfe more stupid growne then these Wilde beasts , cold blasts , hard stones , and haughty trees . Had those first mortals , in the Deluge drown'd , But diu'd to Hell , and shortly rose againe , To tell sad newes , what woefull change they found , To those proud builders vpon Shinar plaine ; Had they desisted from attempts so vaine ? No , their fond thought had meant their Babell high'r Farther to climbe from that infernall fire . Had those swift legates , those celestiall scouts , Whom Lots blest roofe with ioy did entertaine , Onely of torments told those impious routs , Nor burnt them downe to more infernall paine ; What had they done , but with more fell disdaine Incenst their iusts , that Heauen did most oppose ? So fire , allaid , more strong , more raging growes . What swarmes of insects , stormes of flaming haile , What pitchy fogges , what waters sadly dy'd , What sores , what deaths stearne Aegypt did assaile , That had those heauenly messengers defi'd , Ere they could bend the stubborne Tyrants pride , Who dauntlesse stood , as gainst the Waues a Rocke , That proudly seemes their foaming rage to mocke ? Looke how a Vessell , neare some wrackfull strand , ●usht by the rage of some impetuous blast Vpon an ambush of soft swallowing sand , Whilst to her ayd the weeping surges hast Still lower sinkes , and strikes more deepely fast ; Nor from that bed of ruine ere doth rise , But in one graue both drown'd , and buried lies : So whilst fraile mortals , in that worldly maine , Where thousand Syrens chaunt their sweete deceit , Doe wildly float in waues of errors vaine ; Though on their crimes the heauenly heralds beate With strokes redoubled , and sharpe vengeance threate ; Yet sinke they will , ( where heauen his ●●nd withdrawes , ) In sinnes , as sands , to Hels deuouring iawes . As stony tables , humane hearts containe The heauenly Law , that euery soule commands : And must be broke , before they firme remaine , Brooke by contrition , knockt with mornefull hands , For sinnes vnnumbred , as the Libian sands : Else , be their breasts inscribed nere so deepe , As Rockes their gemmes , they vselesse treasure keepe . Not all the sweetes of eloquence , distill'd From precious flowers : not all the charmes of art , That euer soule with so●t affection fill'd : Not Hels dire terrours , nor the threatfull dart Of stearnest death can moue the sinners heart , When ( sicke of wickednesse ) he senselesse growes , And saddest symptomes of destruction showes . That glorious Monarch , at whose dread command Swift Heauen recoiles , Earth to her center riues , He that lockes Hell , and chaines th' infernall band : He , he it is , that frees from heauiest gyues The pittied thrall , and gasping wretch reuiues : 'T is he , whose power numb'ds the hand of death , That else strikes home nor leaues a liuing breath . That Lord , that doth to euery humane spheare Reason , and Will , as Luminaries lend , As duller planets , plants the senses there , Directs their motions to their happiest end : A headlong race else greatest sophies send To blacke confusion : though aloft they dwell , And shine neare Heauen , their shades decline to Hell . Thus farre my dreame , vsurping reasons seate , Playd in the working current of my blood : When in loud thunder , after scorching heat , I starting found my phansie in a wood : A key-cold gelly on my temples stood , A stupid darknesse did be cloud my braine , And starke , as death , did euery limbe remaine , Like the pale Thracian comne from shades below , I seemd a stranger to the face of light : Yet found my way vnto that Towne to goe , Fain'd by the Poets song , and bloody fight , My soules quicke iourney speedily to write : That this deepe dreame , vntill my latest sleepe , Might in my minde a cleare impression keepe . FINIS .