Faith's sister! nurse of fair desire!

Fear's antidote! a wise and well-staid fire!
Temper 'twixt chill Despair, and torrid Joy!
Queen regent in young Love's minority!
Though the vext chymic vainly chases
His fugitive gold through all her faces;
Though Love's more fierce, more fruitless fires

assay:

One face more fugitive than all they;

True Hope's a glorious huntress, and her chase,
The God of Nature in the fields of grace.

CRASHAW'S MOTTO

Live, Jesus, live, and let it be
My life to die for love of Thee.

INDEX TO FIRST LINES

148

208

146

50

151

A Brook, whose stream so great, so good
A drop, one drop, how sweetly one fair drop
A plant of noble stem, forward and fair.
All Hybla's honey, all that sweetness can
All trees, all leafy groves confess the Spring.
All we have is God's, and yet
And now thou'rt set wide ope,
As if the storm meant Him

the spears' sad art

Bright Babe, Whose awful beauties make
Britain, the mighty Ocean's lovely bride

Christ bids the dumb tongue speak; it speaks, the

Come and let us live, my dear

Come death, come bonds, nor do you shrink, my

ears

Come, ye shepherds, whose blest sight.

Could not once blinding me, cruel, suffice

Dear, Heaven designed soul.

Dear Hope! Earth's dowry, and Heaven's debt

Dear relics of a dislodged soul, whose lack
Death, what dost? O, hold thy blow

Each blest drop on each blest limb

Eternal Love! what 'tis to love Thee well

Faithless and fond Mortality

Four teeth thou hadst that rank'd in goodly state

Go now, with some daring drug

Go, smiling souls, your new-built cages break
Hail, most high, most humble one

Hail, sister springs

Happy, me! O happy sheep.

Hark! she is called, the parting hour is come

Hath only Anger an omnipotence.
Hear'st thou, my soul, what serious things
Her eyes' flood licks His feet's fair stain
Here, where our Lord once laid His head
High mounted on an ant, Nanus the tall
How fit our well-ranked feasts do follow
How life and death in Thee.

I, late the Roman youths' loved praise and pride

I paint so ill, my piece had need to be

I sing the name which none can say

I would be married, but I'd have no wife
If ever Pity were acquainted

In shade of Death's sad tree

Is murder no sin? or a sin so cheap

Jesu, no more! It is full tide

Know you, fair, on what you look

Know'st thou this, Soldier? 'tis a much changed

plant, which yet

Let hoary Time's vast bowels be the grave

Let it no longer be a forlorn-hope

Live, Jesus live, and let it be

Lo, here a little volume, but great book

Lo, here the fair Chariclia! in whom strove.
Look up, languishing soul! Lo, where the fair
Lord, by Thy sweet and saving sign

Lord, what is man? why should he cost Thee
Lord, when the sense of Thy sweet grace
Love, brave Virtue's younger Brother

Love is lost, nor can his mother

Love now no fire hath left him

'Mongst those long rows of crowns that gild your

race

Muse, now the servant of soft loves no more
No roofs of gold o'er riotous tables shining
Now, Lord, or never, they'll believe on Thee
Now westward Sol had spent the richest beams
O mighty Nothing! unto thee

O these wakeful wounds of Thine

On the proud banks of great Euphrates' flood

202

207

III

34

One eye? a thousand rather, and a thousand more.
Pallas saw Venus armed, and straight she cried
Passenger, whoe'er thou art.

Rich churlish Land, that hid'st so long in thee
Rich Lazarus! richer in those gems, thy tears
Rise heir of fresh Eternity

Rise, royal Sion! rise and sing

Page
145

210

176

198
143

70

Rise, then, immortal maid, Religion, rise
Rise, thou best and brightest morning.
See here an easy feast that knows no wound
Seen? and yet hated Thee? they did not see
Show me Himself, Himself (bright Sir), O show
So I may gain Thy death my life I'll give
Take these, Time's tardy truants, sent by me
Tell me, bright boy, tell me, my golden lad .
That on her lap she casts her humble eye
'The modest front of this small floor
The smiling Morn had newly waked the Day
The world's Light shines; shine as it will
These Hours, and that which hovers o'er my end
They have left Thee naked, Lord; O that they had
This reverend shadow cast that setting sun
Thou cheatest us, Ford; mak'st one seem two by

art

.

99

126

55

143

145

151

151

194

168

208

143

144

149

Thou hast the art on't, Peter, and canst tell
Thou spak'st the word (Thy word's a law)
Thou trimm'st a Prophet's tomb, and dost be-
queath

Thou water turn'st to wine (fair friend of life)
Though all the joys I had fled hence with thee
Thus have I back again to thy bright name
Thy God was making haste into thy roof
Thy hands are washed, but O, the water's spilt
To see both blended in one flood

To Thee these first-fruits of My growing death
To these, whom Death again did wed

To thy lover

Two devils at one blow Thou hast laid fat

Two mites, two drops (yet all her house and land) 144

Two went to pray! O, rather say
Under thy shadow may I lurk awhile

What Heaven-besiegèd heart is this

Welcome, my grief, my joy; how dear's
Well, Peter, dost thou wield thy active sword
Well-meaning readers, you that come as friends
What bright soft thing is this

Page

148

150

119

16

136

What Heaven-entreated heart is this

139

What? Mars' sword? fair Cytherea say

209

What succour can I hope the Muse will send
Whatever story of their cruelty

182

154

187

When you are mistress of the song

Where art thou, Sol, while thus the blindfold Day

Whoe'er she be

Why dost thou wound my wounds, O thou that

passest by

With all the powers my poor heart hath

Would any one the true cause find.

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162

148

97

207

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