Saint Bernards vision. Or, A briefe discourse (dialogue-wise) betweene the soule and the body of a damned man newly deceased laying open the faults of each other: With a speech of the divels in hell. To the tune of, Fortune my foe. Noctis sub silentio tempore brumali. English. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A08813 of text S115289 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 1910). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 10 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A08813 STC 1910 ESTC S115289 99850508 99850508 15716 2240857231

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A08813) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 15716) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1537:08) Saint Bernards vision. Or, A briefe discourse (dialogue-wise) betweene the soule and the body of a damned man newly deceased laying open the faults of each other: With a speech of the divels in hell. To the tune of, Fortune my foe. Noctis sub silentio tempore brumali. English. Bernard, of Clairvaux, Saint, 1090 or 91-1153, attributed name. Fulbert, Saint, Bishop of Chartres, ca. 960-1028, attributed name. 1 sheet ([1] p.) for I. Wright, dwelling in Gilt-spur street, Printed at London : [ca. 1640] Not in fact by St. Bernard; an English verse translation of the anonymous medieval Latin poem "Noctis sub silencio tempore brumali", sometimes referred to as "Visio Sancti Bernardi", "Visio Fulberti", or "Debate of the body and the soul". Verse -- "As I lay slumbring in my bed one night,". Publication date conjectured by STC. In two parts; woodcuts at head of each part. Reproductions of the original in the British Library. eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. Body and soul in literature -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Meditations -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. A08813 S115289 (STC 1910). civilwar no Saint Bernards vision. Or, A briefe discourse (dialogue-wise) betweene the soule and the body of a damned man newly deceased, laying open th [no entry] 1640 2 1603 1 0 0 0 0 0 6 B The rate of 6 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the B category of texts with fewer than 10 defects per 10,000 words. 2007-08 Assigned for keying and markup 2007-10 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-01 Sampled and proofread 2008-01 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
Saint Bernards Vision . OR , A briefe Discourse ( Dialogue-wise ) betweene the Soule and the Body of a damned man newly deceased , laying open the faults of each other : With a speech of the Divels in Hell . To the Tune of , Fortune my Foe .

The Writer speaketh . AS I lay slumbring in my Bed one Night , A fearefull Vision did me fore affright : Me though I saw a Soule departed late , By it the Body , in a poore estate . Wailing with sighes , the Soule aloud did cry Vpon the Body , in the Coffin by : And thus the Soule to it did make her moane , With grievous sobs , and many a bitter groane . The Soule speaketh . O sinfull Flesh , which now so low doth lye , Whom yesterday the World estéem'd so hye ; It was but yesterday the World was thine , Thy Sunne is set , which yesterday did shine . Where is that Traine that did attend on thée ? Where is thy Mirth ? where is thy Iollitie ? Where are thy sumptuous Buildings , and thy Treasure ? Thy pleasant Walks , in which thou took'st such pleasure ? Gone is thy Traine , thy Mirth to mourning turn'd , Thou in a Coffin in thy Shrine art Vrn'd : For thy rich Clothes , thou hast a Winding-shéet , Thy high-built Roofe now with thy Nose doth méet . But I ( poore Soule ) was fram'd a noble creature , In likenesse to my God , of heavenly feature : But by thy sinne , whil'st we on Earth aboade , I am made fouler than a loathsome Toade . O wretched Flesh , with me that art forlorne , That well may'st wish thou never hadst bin borne ; Thou never would'st to any good agrée , For which we evermore shall damned bée . I am and must forever be in paine , No tongue can tell the torment I sustaine ; Both thou and I , we must descend to Hell , ●●ere we in frying flames for aye must dwell . It was thy Pride , Deceit , and Luxurie , Hath brought these torments both on me and thée ; Thy Wife , thy Children , Friends , which thou didst trust , Doth loath thy Carcas , lying in the Dust . The Booke of God , which is both true and sure , Witnesse at large what sinnes shall endure : Thou that within thy Bed of Earth art layd , Arise , and answer to these things I sayd . The Body answereth . I know thée well , my Soule , which from me fled , Which left my Body senselesse , cold , and dead : Cease then to say , the fault was all in mée , When I will prove the fault was most in thée . Thou say'st , that I have led thée oft astray , And from well-doing drawne thée quite away , But if the Flesh the Spirits power can move , The fault is thine , as I will plainly prove . God you doe know , created thée most faire , And of Celestiall knowledge gave you share : I was your servant , form'd of Durt and Clay ; You to command , and I for to obay . 'T was in your power for to restraine my will , And not to let me doe those things were ill . The Bodies workes be from the Souse derived , And by the Soule the Body should be guided . The Body of it selfe none ill hath knowne : If I did what thou bidst , the guilt 's thine owne : For without thée , the Body resteth dead ; The Soule commands it rests upon thy head . So to conclude , thy guilt excéedeth mine ; Oh , how the wormes doe teare me in my Shrine ! And therefore fare thou well , poore sinfull Soule , Whose trespasses passe mine , though they are foule .
The second part . To the same tune .

The Soule answereth . MOst wretched Flesh , which in thy time of life Wast foolish , idle , vaine , and full of strife ; Though of my substance thou didst speake to me , I doe confesse I should have bridled thée . But thou through love of pleasure foule and ill , Still me resisted and would have thy will : When I would thée ( O Body ) have control'd , Straight the worlds vanities did thée with-hold . So thou of me didst get the upper hand , Inthralling mée in worldly pleasures band , That thou and I eternall shall be drown'd In Hell , when glorious Saints in Heaven are crown'd , But flatt'ring fancies did thy mind so please , Thou never thought to dye , till death did seaze : This was thy fault , and cursed is our fate , Which we repent , but now alas too late . The Body speaketh . Oh now I weep being scourg'd with mine owne rod , Wée both stand guilty 'fore the face of God : Both are in fault , and yet not equally , The greatest burthen ( Soule ) on thée doth lye . No wit so meane , but this for truth it knowes , That where most gifts of vertue God bestowes , There most is due , and ought repayed bée ; And unto this there 's none but will agrée . But foolishly thou yéeldedst unto mée , And to my vaine desires didst soone agrée ; But ( oh ) I know that at the latter houre , Both thou and I shall find a death most soure . I greatly feare an everlasting fire , Yet one thing more of thée I doe desire : Hast thou béen yet amongst the fiends of Hell ? Is no hope left , that we with Christ may dwell ? The Soule answereth . Fond flesh , remember Dives was denay'd , When for one drop of water so he pray'd : Thy question ( senslesse Body ) wanteth reason , Redemption now is hopelesse , out of season . Vile Body goe , and rot in bed of Clay , Vntill the great and generall Iudgement day : Then shalt thou rise and be with me condemn'd , To Hells hot lake , for ever without end . So fare thou well , I must no longer stay , Harke how the fiends of Hell call mée away : The losse of Heavenly ioyes tormenteth mée More than all tortures that in Hell can be . The Divells speake . Ho , are you come , whom we expected long ? Now we will make you sing another song : Howling and yelling still shall be your note , And molten lead be powred downe your throat . Such horror wée doe on our servants load , Now thou art worse than is the crawling Toad : Ten thousand thousand torments thou shalt bide , When thou in flaming Sulphure shalt be fride . Thou art a souldier of our campe enrol'd , Never henceforth shalt thou the light behold : The paines prepard for thée no tongue can tell , Welcome , O welcome to the pit of Hell . The Writer speaketh . At this the groaning Soule did weepe most sore , And then the fiends with ioy did laugh and roare : These Divells séem'd more blacke than pitch or night , Whose horrid shapes did sorely me affright . Sharpe steely forkes each in his hand did beare , Tusked their teeth , like crooked mattocks were , Fire and Brimstone then they breathed out , And from their nostrils Snakes crawl'd round about . Foule filthy hornes on their blacke browes they wore , Their nayles were like the tushes of a Bore : Those fiends in chaines fast bound this wretched Soule , And drag'd him in , who grievously did howle . Then straight me thought appeared to my sight A beautious young man , cloathed all in white , His face did shine , most glorious to behold , Wings like the Raynebow , and his hayre like Gold . With a sweet voyce , All haile , all haile ( quoth he ) Arise and write what thou didst heare and sée : Most heavenly musicke séemed then to play , And in a cloud he vanisht quite away . Awaking straight , I tooke my pen in hand , To write these lines the yong man did command , And so into the world abroad it sent , That each good Christian may in time repent . Then let us feare the Lord both night and day , Preserve our Soules and Bodies wée thee pray , Grant that we may so run this mortall race , That wée in Heaven may have a resting place . Preserve the King , the Queene and Progeny , The Clergy , Councell , and Nobility , Preserve our soules , O Lord , we doe thée pray , Amen , with me let all good Christians say .
FINIS .

Printed at London for I. Wright , dwelling in Gilt-spur street .