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Nature's great masterpiece, an elephant,

For the field; being of two kinds thus made, (The only harmless great thing) the giant

He, as his dam, from sheep drove wolves away, Of beasts; who thought none had, to make him wise, And, as his sire, he made them his own prey. But to be just and thankful, loth t' offend

Five years he liv'd, and cozen'd with his trade; (Yet Nature hath giv'n bim no knees to bend) Then, hopeless that his faults were bid, betray'd Himself he up-props, on himself relies,

Himself by flight, and, by all followed, And, foe to none, suspects no enemies,

Prom dogs a wolf, from wolves a dog he fled; Still sleeping stood; vext not his fantasy

And, like a spy to both sides false, he perished. Black dreams, like an unbent bow carelessly His sinewy proboscis did remissly lie.

It quick’ned next a toyful ape, and so

Gamesome it was, that it might freely go' In which, as in a gallery, this mouse

From tent to tent, and with the children play; Walk'd, and survey'd the rooms of this vast house; His organs now so like theirs he doth find, And to the brain, the soul's bed-chainber, went, That, why he cannot laugh and speak his mind, And gnaw'd the life-cords there: like a whole town He wonders. Much with all, inost he doth stay Clean undermin'd, the slain beast tumbled down; With Adam's fifth daughter, Siphatecia : With him the murd'rer dies, whom enyy sent Doth gaze on her, and, where she passeth, pass, To kill, not 'scape (for only he, that meant Gathers her fruits, and tumbles on the grass ; To die, did ever kill a man of better room) And, wisest of that kind, the first true lover was. And thus he made his foe his prey and tomb : Who cares not to turn back, may any whither come. He was the first, that more desir'd to have

One than another; first, that e'er did crave
Next hous'd this soul a wolf's yet unborn whelp, Love by mute signs, and had no power to speak;
Till the best midwife, Nature, gave it help First, that could make love-faces, or could do
To issue: it could kill, as soou as go.

The vaulter's sombersalts, or usd to woo
Abel, as white and mild, as his sheep were, With boiting gambols, his own bones to break,
(Who, in that trade, of church and kingdoms there to make his mistress merry; or to wreak
Was the first type) was still infested so

Her anger on himself. Sins against kind
With this wolf, that it bred his loss and woe; They eas'ly do, that can let feed their mind
And yet his bitch, his centinel, attends

With outward beauty, beauty they in boys and The flock so near, so well warms and defends,

beasts do find. That the wolf (hopeless else) to corrupt her intends.

By this misled, too low things men have prov'd, He took a course, which since successfully And too high ; beasts and angels have been lov'd : Great men hare often taken, to espy

This ape, though else through-vaio, in this was wise; The counsels, or to break the plots of foes; He reach'd at things too high, but open way To Abel's tent he stealeth in the dark,

There was, and he knew not she would say nay, On whose skirts the bitch slept: ere she could bark, His toys prevail not, likelier means he tries, Attach'd her with strait gripes, yet be call'd those He gazeth on her face with tear-shot eyes, Embracements of love; to love's work he goes, And up-lifts subtily with his russet paw Where deeds move more than words; nor doth she Her kid-skin aprou without fear or awe show,

Of nature; nature hath no goal, though she bath Nor much resist, nor needs he straiten so

law, His prey, for were she loose, she would not bark nor go.

First she was silly, and knew not what he meant;

That virtue, by his touches chaft and spent, He hath engag'd her; his she wholly bides : Succeeds an itchy warmth, that melts her quite; Who not her own, none other's secrets hides. She knew not first, nor cares not what he doth, If to the flock he come, and Abel there,

And willing half and more, more than half wrath, She feigns hoarse barkings, but she biteth not; She neither pulls nor pushes, but out-right Her faith is quite, but not her love forgot.

Now cries, and now repents; when Thelemite, At last a trap, of which some every where Her brother, enter'd, and a great stone threw Abel had plac'd, ends all his loss and fear, After the ape, wbo thus prevented flew. By the wolf's death; and now just time it was, This house thus batter'd down, the soul possess'd a That a quick soul should give life to that mass Of blood in Abel's bitch, and thither this did pass.

And whether by this change she lose or win, Some have their wives, their sisters some begot; She comes out next, where th'ape would have gone But in the lives of emperors you shall not

in. Read of a lust, the which may equal this: Adam and Eve had mingled bloods, and now, This wolf begot himself, and finished,

Like chymic's equal fires, her temperate womb What he began alive, when he was dead.

Had stew'd and form'd it : and part did become Son to himself, and father too, he is

A spungy liver, that did richly allow,
A riding lust, for which schoolmen would miss Like a free conduct on a high hill's brow,
A proper name. The whelp of both these lay Like-keeping moisture unto every part;
In Abel's tent, and with soft Moaba,

Part hard'ned itself to a thicker heart,
His sister, being young, it us'd to sport and play. Whose busy furnaces life's spirits do impart,
He soon for her too harsh and churlisb grew, Another part became the well of sense,
And Abel (the dam dead) would use this new The tender well-arm'd feeling brain, from whenca

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Those sinew strings, which do our bodies tie, Seest thou, my soul, with thy faith's eye, how he,
Are ravellid out; and, fast there by one end, Which fills all place, yet none holds him, doth lie?
Did this soul limbs, these limbs a soul attend ; Was not his pity towards thee wondrous bigh,
And now they join'd, keeping some quality That would have need to be pitied by thee
Of every past shape ; she knew treachery, Kiss him, and with him into Egypt go,
Rapine, deceit, and lust, and ills enough

With his kind mother, who partakes thy woe.
To be a woman : Temech she is now,
Sister and wife to Cain, Cain, that tirst did plough.



Whoe'er thou beest, that read'st this sullen writ,
Which just so much courts thee, as thou dost it,
Let me arrest thy thoughts; wonder with me
Why ploughing, building, ruling, and the rest,
Or most of those arts, whence our lives are blest,
By cursed Cain's race invented be,
And bless'd Seth vex'd us with astronomy,
There is nothing simply good nor ill alone,
Of every quality comparison
The only measure is, and judge opinion,

With his kind mother, who partakes thy' woe,
Joseph, turn back; see where your child doth sit
Blowing, yea, blowing out those sparks of wit,
Which himself on the doctors did bestow;
The world but lately could not speak, and lo
It suddenly speaks wonders: whence comes it,
That all which was, and all which should be writ,
A shallow-seeming child should deeply know?
His godhead was not soul to his maphood,
Nor had time mellow'd him to this ripeness;
But as for one, which hath a long task, 't is good
With the Sun to begin his business,
He in bis age's morning thus began,
By miracles exceeding power of man,








By miracles exceeding power of man

He faith in some, envy in some begat; Deign at my hands this crown of prayer and praise,

For, what weak spirits admire, ambitious hate; Weav'd in my lone devout melancholy,

In both affections many to him ran : Thou, which of good hast, yea, art treasury,

But oh! the worst are most, they will and can, All changing unchang'd, ancient of days;

Alas! and do unto th' immaculate, But do not with a vile crown of frail bays

Whose creature Fate is, now prescribe a fate, Reward my Muse's white sincerity,

Measuring self-life's infinite to span, But what thy thorny crown gain'd, that give me,

Nay, to an inch. Lo, where condemned he A crown of glory, which doth Aower always.

Bears his own cross with pain; yet by-and-by, The ends crown our works, but thou crown'st our

When it bears him, he must bear more and die. For at our ends begins our endless rest; [ends,

Now thou art lifted up, draw me to thee, The first last end now zealously possest,

And, at thy death giving such liberal dole, With a strong sober thirst, my soul attends.

Moist with one drop of thy blood my dry soul.
*T is time that heart and voice be lifted high,
Salvation to all, that will, is nigh.


Moisi with one drop of thy blood, my dry soul
Salvation to all, that will, is nigh;

Shall (though she now be in extreme degree That all, which always is all every where,

Too stony hard, and yet too fleshly) be Which cannot sin, and yet all sins must bear, Freed by that drop, from being starv'd, hard or foul; Which cannot die, yet cannot choose but dic, And life, by this death abled, shall control Lo, faithful virgin, yields himself to lie

Death, whom tby death elew; nor shall to me In prison, in thy womb; and though he there Fear of first or last death bring misery, Can take no sin, nor thou give, yet he 'll wear, If in thy life's-book my name thou enroll: Taken from thence, flesh, which death's force may Flesh in that long sleep is not putrified, Ere by the spheres time was created, thou (try. But made that there, of which, and for which 't was; Wast in his mind, who is thy Son, and brother, Nor can by other means be glorified. Whom thou conceiv'st conceived ; yet thou 'rt now May then sins sleep, and death soon from me pass, Thy Maker's maker, and thy Father's mother, That, wak'd from both, I again risen may Thou hast light in dark, and shutt'st in little room Salute the last and everlasting day. Immensity, cloister'd in thy dear womb.

Immensity, cloister'd in thy dear womb,

Salute the last and everlasting day,
Now leaves his well-belov'd imprisonment, Joy at th’ uprising of this Sun, and Son,
There he hath made himself to his intent

Ye, whose true tearg or tribulation
Weak enough, now into our world to come; Have purely wash'd or burnt your drossy clay ;
But oh, for thee, for him, bath th' inn no room? Behold the highest, parting hence away,
Yet lay him in his stall, and from the orient Lightens the dark clouds, which he treads upon,
Stars and wise men will travel, to prevent

Nor doth he by, ascending show alone, Th'effect of Herod's jealous general doom. But first he, and he first, enters the way,



O strong ram, which hast batter'd Heav'n for me,
Mild Lamb, which with thy blood hast mark'd the

Bright torch, which shin’st, that I the way máy see, By Sickness, Death's herald and champion;

OH! my black soul, now thou art summoned Oh! with thy own blood quench thy own just Thou’rt like a pilgrim, which abroad hath done wrath :

Treason, and durst not turn to whence he is fled; And if thy Holy Spirit my Muse did raise,

Or like a thief, which till death's doom be read, Deign at my hands this crown of prayer and praise.

Wisheth himself delivered from prison ;
But damn'd and hawl'd to execution,
Wisheth that still he might b'imprisoned :

Yet grace, if thou repent, thou canst not lack;

But who shall give thee that grace to begin?

Oh, make thyself with holy mourning black,
Taou hast made me, and shall thy work decay? And red with blushinig, as thou art with sin;
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste ; Or wash thee in Christ's blood, which hath this mighty
I run to death, and death meets me as fast, That, being red, it dies red souls to white.
And all my pleasures are like yesterday.
I dare not move my dim eyes any way;
Despair behind, and death before doth cast

Such terrour, and my feeble flesh doth waste
By sin in it, which it t'wards Hell doth weigh.

I am a little world, made cunningly

Of elements and an angelic spright;
Only thou art above, and when t'wards thee
By thy leave I can look, I rise again;

But black sin hath betray'd to endless night
But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,

My world's both parts, and, oh! both parts inust dies That not one hour myself I can sustain ;

You, which beyond that Heav'n, which was most high, Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art,

Have found new spheres, and of new land can write, And thou like adamiant draw mine iron heart.

Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might
Drown my world with my weeping earnestly;
Or wash it, if it must be drown'd no more:
But oh it must be burnt; alas! the fire

Of lust and envy burnt it heretofore,

And made it fouler: let their flames retire,

And burn me, O Lord, with a fiery zeal As due by many titles, I resign

Of thee and thy house, which doth in eating heala Myself to thee, O God. First I was made By thee, and for thee; and, when I was decay'd, Thy blood bought that, the which before was

VI. thine; I am thy son, made with thyself to shine, This is my play's last scene, here Heavens appoint Thy servant, whose pains thou hast still repay'd, My pilgrimage's last mile; and my race; Thy sheep, thine image, and, till I betray'd Idly yet quickly run, hath this last pace, Myself , a temple of thy spirit divine.

My span's last inch, my minute's latest point; Why doth the Devil then usurp on me?

And gluttonous Death will instantly unjoint Why doth he steal, nay, ravish that's thy right? My body and soul, and I shall sleep a space; Except thou rise, and for thine own work fight, But my ever-waking part shall see that face, Oh! I shall soon despair, when I shall see Wbose fear already shakes my every joidt: That thou lov'st mankind well, yet wilt not choose Then as my soul to Heav'n, her first seat, takes flight, me

And earth-born body in the Earth shall dwell, And Satan hates me, yet is loth to lose me. So fall my sins, that all may have their right,

To where they 're bred, and would press me to Hell. lopute me righteous, thus purg'd of evil;

For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the Devil.

Ol! might these sighs and tears return again
Into my breast and eyes, which I have spent, At the round Earth's imagin'd corners blow
That I might in this boly discontent

Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
Mount with some fruit, as I have mourn'd in vain; From death, you numberless infinities
In mine idolatry what show'rs of rain

Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go, Mine eres did waste? what griefs my heart did All, whom th' food did, and fire shall overthrow; rent?

All, whom war, death, age, ague's tyrannies, That safferance was my sin I now repent;

Despair, law, chance hath slain; and you, whose eyes 'Cause I did suffer, I must suffer pain.

Shall behold God, and never taste death's woe. Th’ hydroptic drunkard, and night-scouting thief,

But let them sleep, lord, and me monro a space; The itchy lecher, and self-tickling proud,

For, if above all these my sins abound, Have th’ remembrance of past joys, for relief

'T is late to ask abundance of thy grace, Of coming ills. To poor me is allow'd

When we are there. Here on this holy ground No ease; for long, yet vehement, grief hath been Teach me how to repent; for that 's as good, Th’ effect and cause, the punishment and sia. As if thou had'st seal'd my pardon with thy blood. VIII.

XII. If faithful souls be alike glorifi'd

Why are we by all creatures waited on? As angels, then my father's soul doth see,

Why do the progidal elements supply And adds this ev'n to full felicity,

Life and food to me, being more pure than I, That valiantly I Hell's wide mouth o'erstride: Spler, and further from corruption ? But if our minds to these souls be descry'd Why brouk’st thou, ignorant horse, subjection? By circumstances and by signs, that be

Why do you, bull and boar, so sillily . Apparent in us not immediately,

Dissemble weakness, and by ope man's stroke die, How shall my mind's white truth by them be try'd? Whose whole kind you might swallow and feed upon? They see idolatrous lovers weep and mourn, Weaker I am, woe's me! and worse than you; And style blasphemous conjurers to call

You have not sipn'd, nor need be timorous, On Jesus' name, and pharisaical

But wonder at a greater, for to us Dissemblers feign devotion. Then turn,

Created nature doth these things subdue; O pensive soul, to God; for he knows best

But their Creator, whom sin, nor nature ty'd, Thy grief, for he put it into my breast.

Por us, his creatures, and his foes, hath dy'd.

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Ir poisonous minerals, and if that tree,
Whose fruit threw death on (else immortal) us,
If lecherous goats, if serpents envious,
Cannot be damn'd, alas! why should I be?
Why should intent or reason, born in me,
Make sins, else equal, in me more heijous ?
And mercy being easy and glorious
To God, in his stern wrath why threatens he?
But who am I, that dare dispute with thee!
O God, oh ! of thine only worthy blood,
· And my tears, make a heav'nly Lethean flood,
And drown in it my sin's black memory :
That thou remember them, some claim as debt;
I think it mercy, if thou wilt forget.

What if this present were the world's last night?
Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell,
The picture of Christ crucifi'd, and tell
Whether his countenance can thee affright;
Tears in his eyes quench the amazing light, (fell.
Blood fills his frowns, which from his pierc'd head
And can that tongue adjudge thee unto Hell,
Which pray'd forgiveness for his foe's fierce spight?
No, no, but as in my idolatry
I said to all my profane mistresses,
Beauty of pity, foulness only is
A sign of rigour: so I say to thee;
To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assign'd,
This beauteous form assumes a piteous mind.


XIV. DEATH, be not proud, though some have called thee Batter my heart, three-person'd God; for you Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;

As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend; For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow m', and bend Die not, poor death ; nor yet canst thou kill me. Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new, From rest and sleep, wbich but thy picture be, I, like an usurp'd town to another due, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow: Labour t'admit you, but oh, to no end; And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Reason, your viceroy in me, we should defend, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. [men, But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue; Thou 'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate | Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov'd fain, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, But am betroth'd unto your enemy: And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well, Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again, And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then? Take me to you, imprison me; for I, One short sleep past, we wake eternally;

Except you enthrall me, never shall be free; And death shall be no more, death, thou shalt die. Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

Spit in my face, you Jews, and pierce my side,
Buffet and scoff, scourge and crucify me:
For I have sinn'd, and sinn'd; and only he,
Who could do no iniquity, hath dy'd :
But by my death cannot be satisfi'd
My sins, which pass the Jews' impiety:
They kill'd once an inglorious man, but I
Crucify him daily, being now glorifi'd.
O let me then his strange love still admire :
Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment;
And Jacob came, cloth'd in vile harsh attire,
But to supplant, and with gainful intent:
God cloth'd himself in vile man's flesh, that so
He might be weak enough to suffer woe.

Wilt thou love God, as he thee? then digest,
My soul, this wholesome meditation,
How God the spirit, by angels waited on
In Heav'n, doth make his temple in thy breast;
The Father having begot a Son most bless'd,
And still begetting, (for he ne'er begun)
Hath deign’d to choose thee by adoption,
Coheir to his glory, and sabbath's endless rest.
And as a robb’d man, which by search doth find
His stol'n stuff sold, must lose or buy 't again:
The Sun of glory came down, and was slain,
Us, whom h' had made, and Satan stole, t' unbind.
'Twas much, that man was made like God before;
But, that God should be made like man, much more.

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These for extracted chymic medicine serve,

And cure much better, and as well preserve; FATHER, part of his double interest

Then are you your own physic, or need none,

When stillid or purg'd by tribulation:
Unto thy kingdom thy Son gives to me;
His jointure in the knotty Trinity

Por, when that cross ungrudg'd unto you sticks,

Then are you to yourself a crucifix.
He keeps, and gives to me his death's conquest.
This Lamb, whose death with life the world hath

As perchance carvers do not faces make,

But that away, which hid them there, do take:

Let crosses so take what hid Christ in thee, Was from the world's beginning slain; and he

And be his image, or not his, but he.
Hath made two wills, which, with the legacy

But as oft alchymists do coiners prove,
Of his and thy kingdom, thy sons invest:
Yet such are these laws, that men argue yet,

So may a self-despising get self-love.

And then as worst surfeits of best meats be,
Whether a man those statutes can fulfil ;
None doth; but thy all-healing grace and spirit

So is pride, issued from humility;
Revive again, what law and letter kill :

Por 't is no child, but monster : therefore cross Thy law's abridgment and thy last command

Your joy in crosses, else 't is double loss ;
Is all but love; O let this last will stand !

And cross thy senses, else both they and thou
Must perish soon, and to destruction bow.
For if th' eye see good objects, and will take
No cross from bad, we cannot 'scape a snake.

So with harsh, hard, sour, stinking cross the rest, ON THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY. Make them indifferent all; nothing best.

But most the eye needs crossing, that can roam In that, o queen of queens, thy birth was free

And move: to th' others objects must come home, From that, which others doth of grace bereave, And cross thy heart: for that in man alone

When in their mother's womb they life receive, Pants downwards, and hath palpitation, God, as bis sole-born daughter, loved thee.

Cross those detorsions, when it downward tends,

And when it to forbidden heights pretends. To match thee like thy birth's nubility,

And as the brain though bony walls doth vent He thee his Spirit for his spouse did leave, By sutures, which a cross's form present:

By whom thou didst his only Son conceive, So when thy brain works, e'er thou utter it,
And so wast link'd to all the Trinity.

Cross and correct concupiscence of wit.

Be covetous of crosses, let none fall:
Cease then, O queens, that earthly crowns do wear, Cross no man else, but cross thyself in all.
To glory in the pomp of earthly things;

Then doth the cross of Christ work faithfully If men such high respects unto you bear,

Within our hearts, when we love harmlessly Which daughters, wives, and mothers are of kings, The cross's pictures much, and with more care What honour can unto that queen be dòne,

That cross's children, which our crosses are. Who bad your God for father, spouse, and son ?


By Euphrates' flow'ry side

We did bide,
From dear Juda far absented,
Tearing the air with our cries,

And our eyes
With their streams bis stream augmented.

When poor Sion's doleful state,

Sacked, burned, and inthrall’d;
And the temple spoil'd, which we

Ne'er should see,
To our mirthless minds we calld:

Sincz Christ embrac'd the cross itself, dare 1,
His image, th’image of his cross deny ?
Would I have profit by the sacrifice,
And dare the chosen altar to despise ?
It bore all other sins, but is it fit
That it should bear the sin of scorning it?
Who from the picture would avert bis eye,
How would he fly his pains, who there did die?
From me no pulpit, nor misgrounded law,
Nor scandal taken shall this cross withdraw;
It shall not, for it cannot; for the loss
Of this cross were to me another cross ;
Better were worse, for no affliction,
No cross is so extreme, as to have none.
Who can blot out the cross, which th' instrument
Of God dew'd on me in the sacrament?
Who can deny me power and liberty
To stretch mine arms, and mine own cross to be?
Swim, and at every stroke thou art thy cross :
The mast and yard make one, where seas do toss.
Look down, thou spy'st our crosses in small things;
Look up, thou seest birds rais'd on crossed wings.
All the globe's frame, and spheres, is nothing else
But the meridian's crossing parallels.
Material crosses then good physic be ;
But yet spiritual have chief dignity.

Our mute harps, untun'd, unstrung,

Up we hung
On green willows near beside us;
Where we sitting all forlorn,

Thus in scorn
Our proud spoilers 'gan deride us.

« Come, sad captives, leave your moans,

And your groans
Under Sion's ruins bury;
Tune your harps, and sing us lays

In the praise
Of your God, and let 's be merry."

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