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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 giaạt
He, as bis 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 giva him 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,
From 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 unbept bow carelessly His sinewy proboscis did remissly lie.
It quick’ned next a toyful ape, and so
Gamesome it was, that it migbt 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-chamber, went, That, why he cannot laugh and speak his miud, And gnaw'd the life-cords there: like a whole town He wonders. Much with all, most he doth stay Clean undermin'd, the slain beast tumbled down ; With Adam's fifth daughter, Siphạtecia : With him the murd'rer dies, whom envy sent Doth gaze on her, and, where she passeth, pass, To kill, not 'scape (for only he, that meant Gathers ber 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 soon as go.
The vaulter's sombersalts, or us'd to woo Abel, as white and mild, as his sheep were, With hoiting 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 op 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 fock 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, wbich since successfully And too high; beasts and angels have been lov'd : Great men hare often taken, to espy
This ape, though else through-vain, 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 he 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 apron without fear or awe show,
Of nature; nalure hath no goal, though she hath Nor much resist, nor needs he straiten so
law, His prey, for were she loose, she would not bark
First she was silly, and knew not what he meant:
That virtue, by his touches chaft and spent, He bath 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 bad plac'd, ends all his loss and fear, After the ape, who 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 19 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,
Part hard’ned itself to a thicker heart,
Those sinew strings, which do our bodies tie, Seest thou, my soul, with thy faith's eye, how he,
With his kind mother, who partakes thy woe.
Whoe'er thou beest, that read'st this sullen writ,
With his kind mother, who partakes thy woe,
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,
Alas! and do unto th' immaculate,
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 flower 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,
Moist with one drop of thy blood my dry soul.
Moist with one drop of thy blood, my dry soul
Shall (though she now be in extreme degree That all, which always is all every where,
Too stony hard, and yet tou 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 die, And life, by this death abled, shall control Lo, faithful virgin, yields himself to lie
Death, whom thy death slew; 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 thỳ 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 deur womb.
Salute the last and everlasting day,
O strong ram, which hast batter'd Hear'n for me,
Ou! my black soul, now thou art summoned On! with thy own blood quench stby own just Thou 'rt like a pilgrim, which abroad hath done wrath :
Treason, and durst not turn to whence he is filed; 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.
Wishetli himself delivered from prison;
Yet grace, if thou repent, thou canst not lack; 1.
But who shall give thee that grace to begin?
Oh, make thyself with holy mourning black, Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay? And red with blushing, as thou art with sin; Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste ;
Orwash thee in Christ's blood, which hath this inight, I run to death, and death meets me as fast,
That, being red, it dies red souls to white.
I am a little world, made cunningly
Of elements and an angelic spright; 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 must die. 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 adaunant draw mine iron heart.
Pour new seas in miue eyes, that so I might
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 heal. * Myself to thee, O God. First I was made By thee, and for thee; and, wben 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 Whose fear already shakes my every joint: That thou lov'st mankind well, yet wilt not choose Then as my soul to Heav'o, 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.
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the Devil.
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go, Mine eyes did waste? what griefs my heart did All, whom th' flood did, and fire shall overthrow; rent?
All, whom war, death, age, ague's tyrannies, That sofferance was my sin I now repent; Despain, 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 mourn 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 canse, the punishment and sin. As if thou had'st seal'd my pardon with thy blood.
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: Simpler, and further from corruption ? But if our minds to these souls be descry'd Why brook'st thou, ignorant horse, subjection? By circumstances and by sigos, that be
Why do you, bull and boar, so sillily Apparent in us not immediately,
Dissemble weakness, and by one 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 mouro, Weaker I am, woe's me! and worse than you; And style blasphemous conjurers to call
You have not sinn'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 tyd, Thy grief, for he put it into my breast.
For us, his creatures, and his foes, hath dy'd.
XIV. Death, be not proud, though some have called thee BATTER my heart, three-person'd God; for yoa Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
But am betroth'd unto your enemy:
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free ;
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, Unto thy kingdom thy Son gives to me;
When still'd or purg'd by tribulation :
For, when that cross ungrudg'd unto you sticks, His jointure in the knotty Trinity He keeps, and gives to me bis death's conquest.
Then are you to yourself a crucifix. This Lamb, whose death with life the world hath But that away, which hid them there, do take:
As perchance carvers do not faces make, bless'd,
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.
But as oft alchymists do coiners prove,
So may a self-despising get self-love.
And then as worst surfeits of best meats be,
So is pride, issued from humility;
Por 't is no child, but monster : therefore cross
Your joy in crosses, else 't is double loss; Thy law's abridgment and thy last command
And cross thy senses, else both they and thou Is all but love; O let this last will stand !
Must perish soon, and to destruction bow.
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, О 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
Cross those detorsions, when it downward tends,
And when it to forbidden heights pretends. To match thee like thy birth's nobility,
Aud as the brain though bony walls doth vent He thee his Spirit for his spouse did leave,
By sutures, which a cross's forın 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 noną fall:
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 done, That cross's children, which our crosses are. Who had your God for father, spouse, and son ?
We did bide,
And our eyes
When poor Sion's doleful state,
Ne'er should see,
Our mute harps, untun'd, unstrung,
Up we hung
Thus in scorn
And your groans
In the praise