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TO SIR ROBERT CARR.

Lord, curse Edom's trait'rous kind,

Bear in mind,
In our ruips how they revell’d:
Sack, kill, burn, they cry'd out still,

Sack, burn, kill,
Down with all, let all be levell’d.

And, thou Babel, when the tide

Of thy pride,
Now a flowing, grows to turning;
Victor now, shall then be thrall,

And shall fall
To as low an ebb of mourning.

Happy he, who shall thee waste,

As thou hast
Us without all mercy wasted,
And shall make thee taste and see,

What poor we
By thy means have seen and tasted.
Happy, who thy tender barns

From the arms
Of their wailing mothers tearing,
'Gainst the walls shall dash their bones,

Ruthless stones
With their brains and blood besmearing.

SIR,
I PRESUME you rather try what you can do in me,
than what I can do in verse; you know my atter-
most when it was best, and even then I did best,
when I had least truth for my subjects. In this
present case there is so much truth, as it defeats
all poetry. Call therefore this paper by what
name you will, and if it be not worthy of him, por
of you, nor of me, smother it, and be that the sa-
crifice, If you had commanded me to have
waited on his body to Scotland and preached
there, I would have embraced the obligation
with more alacrity; but I thank you, that you
would command me that, which I was loath to
do, for even that hatb given a tincture of merit to
the obedience of

your poor friend
and servant in Christ Jesus,

J. DONNE.

WHETHER that soul, which now comes up to yon,

Fill any former rank, or make a new,
RESURRECTION.

Whether it take a name namid there before,

Or be a name itself, and order more
IMPERFECT.

Than was in Heav'n till now; (for may not he

Be so, if every several angel be
Sleep, sleep, old Sun, thou canst not have re-pasta kind alone) whatever order grow
As yet the wound, thou took'st on Friday last; Greater by him in Heav'n, we do not so.
Sleep then, and rest: the world may bear thy stay, One of your orders grows by bis access;
A better Sun rose before thee to day;

But by his loss grow all our orders less :
Who, not content t' enlighten all that dwell The name of father, master, friend, the name
On the Earth's face, as thou enlightned Hell; Of subject and of prince, in one is lame;
And made the dark fires languish in that vale, Fair mirth is damp'd, and conversation black,
As at thy presence here our fires grow pale: The household widow'd, and the garter slack;
Whose body having walkd on Earth, and now The chapel wants an ear, council a tongue;
Hast'ning to Heav'n, would that he might allow Story a theme, and music lacks a song.
Himself unto all stations, and fill all,

Bless'd order, that hath him! the loss of him For these three days become a mineral.

Gangren'd all orders here; all lost a limb !
He was all gold, when he lay down, but rose Never made body such haste to confess
All tincture; and doth not alone dispose

What a soul was; all former comeliness

RIDING WESTWARD.

THE

Fled in a minute, when the soul was gone, So though the least of his pains, deeds, or words,
And, having lost that beauty, would have none: Would busy a life, she all this day affords.
So fell our monast'ries, in an instant grown,

This treasure then in gross, my soul, up-lay,
Not to less houses, but to heaps of stone;

And in my life retail it every day.
So sent his body, that fair form it wore,
Unto the sphere of forms, and doth (before
His soul shall fill up his sepulchral stone)
Anticipate a resurrection ;

GOOD FRIDAY.
For as it is his fame, now his soul's here,

1613.
So in the form thereof his body's there.
And if, fair soul, not with first innocents
Thy station be, but with the penitents;

Let man's soul be a sphere, and then in this (And who shall dare to ask then, wben I am

Th’intelligence, that moves, devotion is; Dy'd scarlet in the blood of that pure Lamb,

And as the other spheres, by being grown Whether that colour, which is scarlet then,

Subject to foreign motion, lose their own: Were black or white before in eyes of men ?)

And being by others hurried every day, When thou remembrest wbat sins thou didst find

Scarce in a year their natural form obey : Amongst those many friends now left behind,

Pleasure or business so our souls admit And seest such sidders, as they are, with thee

For their first mover, and are whirld by it. Got thither by repentance, let it be

Hence is 't, that I am carried t'wards the west Thy wish to wish all there, to wish them clean;

This day, when my soul's form bends to the east; Wish him a David, her a Magdalen.

There I should see a Sun by rising set,
And by that setting endless day beget.
But that Christ on his cross did rise and fall,
Sin had eternally benighted all.

Yet dare I almost be glad, I do not see
ANNUNCIATION AND PASSION. That spectacle of too much weight for me.
TAXELY, frail flesh, abstain to day; to day

Who sees God's face, that is self-life, must die;

What a death were it then to see God die? My soul eats twice, Christ hither and away;

It made bis own lieutenant, Nature, shrink; She sees him man, so like God inade in this,

It made his footstool crack, and the Sun wink. That of them both a circle emblem is,

Could I behold those hands, which span the poles, Whose first and last concur; this doubtful day Of feast or fast Christ came, and went away.

And tune allspheres at once, pierc'd with those holes?

Could I behold that endless height, which is
She sees him nothing twice at once, who 's all ;

Zenith to us and our antipodes,
She sees a cedar plant itself, and fall:
Her maker put to making, and the head

Humbled below us? or that blood, which is

The seat of all our souls, if not of his, Of life, at once, not yet alive, and dead;

Made dirt of dust ? or that flesh, which was wora She sees at once the virgia mother stay Reclus'd at bome, public at Golgotha.

By God for his apparel, ragg‘d and torn ?

If on these things I durst not look, durst I Sad and rejoic'd she's seen at once, and seen

On his distressed mother cast mine eye, At almost fifty and at scarce fifteen :

Who was God's partner here, and furnish'd thus At once a son is promis'd her, and gone;

Half of that sacrifice, which ransom'd us?
Gabriel gives Christ to her, he her to John:
Not fully a mother, she's in orbity,

Though these things, as I ride, be from mine eye, At once receiver and the legacy.

They 're present yet unto my memory, All this, and all between, this day bath shown,

For that looks towards them; and thou look'st to

wards me, Th' abridgment of Christ's story, which makes one

O Saviour, as thou hang'st upon the tree. (As in plain maps the furthest west is east)

I turn my back to thee, but to receive
Of th' angel's ave and consummatum est.
How well
the church, God's court of faculties,

Corrections; till thy mercies bid thee leave.

O think me worth thine anger, punish me, Deals in sometimes and seldom joining these !

Burn off my rust, and my deformity; As by the self-fix'd pole we never do

Restore thine image so much by thy grace, Direct our course, but the next star thereto,

That thou may'st know me, and I'll turn my face.
Which shows where th' other is, and which we say
(Because it strays not far) doth never stray:
So God by his church, nearest to him, we know
And stand firm, if we by her motion go;
His spirit as his fiery pillar doth

THE LITANY.
Lead, and bis church as cloud; to one end both.
This church, by letting those feasts join, hath shown
Death and conception in mankind are one;

Father of Heav'n, and him, by whom
Or 't was in him the same humility,

It, and us for it, and all else for us That he would be a man, and leave to be

Thou mad'st and govern'st ever, come, Or as creation he hath inade, as God,

And re-create me, now grown rujnous : With the last judgment but one period;

My heart is by dejection clay,
His imitating spouse woald join in one

And by self-murder red.
Manhood's extremes : he shall come, he is gone. From this red earth, O Father, purge away
Or as though one blood drop, which thence did fall, All vicious tinctures, that new fashioned
Accepted, would have serv'd, he yet shed all; I may rise up from death, before I'n dead.

THE FATHER.

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And let thy patriarch's desire

The sacred academ above (Those great grandfathers of thy church, which saw Of doctors, whose pains bave unclasp'd and taught More in the cloud, than we in fire,

Both books of life to us (for love
Whom nature clear'd more, than us grace and law, To know the scripture tells us, we are wrote
And now in Heav'n still pray, that we

In thy other book) pray for us there,
May use our new helps right)

That what they have misdone,
Be satisfy'd, and fructify in me:

Or mis-said, we to that may not adhere; Let not my mind be blinder by more light, Their zeal may be our sin. Lord, let us run Nor faith, by reason added, lose her sight. Mean ways, and call them stars, but not the Sun,

And whil'st this universal choir,

When senses, which thy soldiers are, (That church in triumph, this in warfare here, We arm against thee, and they fight for sin ; Warm'd with one all-partaking fire

When want, sent but to tame, doth war, Of love, that none be lost, which cost thee dear) And work despair a breach to enter in; Prays ceaselessly, and thou hearken too,

When plenty, God's image and seal, (Since to be gracious

Makes us idolatrous, Our task is treble, to pray, bear, and do)

And love it, not him, whom it should reveal; Hear this prayer, Lord; O Lord, deliver us [thus. When we are mov'd to seem religious From trusting in those prayers, though pour'd out Only to vent wit, Lord, deliver us. From being anxious, or secure,

In churches when th' infirmity Dead clouds of sadness, or light squibs of mirth; Of him, which speaks, diminishes the word ; From thinking that great courts immure

When magistrates do misapply All or no happiness ; or that this Earth

To us, as we judge, lay or ghostly sword; Is only for our prison fram'd,

When plague, which is thine angel, reigns, Or that thou 'rt covetous

Or wars, thy champions sway; To them thou lov'st, or that they are maim'd, When heresy, thy second deluge, gains ; From reaching this world's sweets; who seek thee thus In th' hour of death, th' eve of last judgment-day, With all their might, Good Lord, deliver us. Deliver us from the sinister way. From needing danger to be good,

Hear us, O hear us, Lord : to thee From owing thee yesterday's tears to day,

A sinner is more music, when he prays,
From trusting so much to thy blood,

Than spheres or angels' praises de
That in that hope we wound our souls away; In panegyric hallelujahs;
Prom bribing thee with alms, t'excuse

Hear us; for till thou hear us, Lord,
Some sin more burdenous;

We know not what to say: From light affecting in religion news,

Thine ear tour sighs, tears, thoughts, gives voice From thinking us all soul, neglecting thus

and word. Our mutual duties, Lord, deliver us.

O thou, who Satan heard'st in Job's sick day,

Hear thyself now, for thou, in us, dost pray,
From tempting Satan to tempt us,
By our connivance, or slack company;

That we may change to evenness
From measuring ill by vicious,

This intermitting aguish piety; Neglecting to choke sin's spawn, vanity;

That snatching cramps of wickedness, From indiscreet humility,

And apoplexies of fast sin may die; Which might be scandalous,

That music of thy promises, And cast reproach on christianity;

Not threats in thunder, may From being spies, or to spies pervious ;

Awaken us to our just offices; From thirst or scorn of fame, deliver us.

What in thy book thou dost or creatures say,

That we may hear, Lord, hear us, when we pray. Deliver us through thy descent Into the Virgin, whose womb was a place

That our ear's sickness we may cure, Of middle kind, and thou being sent

And rectify those labyrinths aright;
Tungracious us, stay'd'st at her full grace; That we by heark’ning not procure

And through thy poor birth, where first thou Our praise, nor others' dispraise so invite;
Glorified'st poverty,

That we get not a slipperiness,
And yet soon after riches didst allow,

And senselessly decline,
By accepting kings' gifts in th’Epiphany, From hearing bold wits jest at kings' excess,
Deliver, and make us to both ways free.

T'admit the like of majesty divine;

That we may lock our ears, Lord, open thine. And through that bitter agony, Which still is th' agony of pious wits,

That living law, the magistrate, Disputing what distorted thee,

Which, to give us and make us physic, doth And interrupted evenness with fits;

Our vices often aggravate; And through thy free confession;

That preachers, taxing sin before her growth, Though thereby they were then

That Satan, and envenom'd men, Made blind, so that thou mightst from them have Which will, if we starve, dine, gone,

When they do most accuse us, may see then Good Lord, deliver us, and teach us when

Us to amendment hear them; thee decline; We may not, and we may blind unjust men. That we may open our ears, Lord, lock thine. Through thy submitting all, to blows

That learning, thine ambassador,
Thy face, thy robes to spoil, thy rame to scorn ; From thine allegiance we never tempt;
All ways, which rage or justice knows,

That beauty, Paradise's flow'r,
And by which thou could'st show, that thou wast born; For physic made, from poison be exempt;
And through thy gallant humbleness,

That wit, born apt high good to do,
Which thou in death didst show,

By dwelliug lazily Dying before thy soul they could express,

On nature's nothing, be not nothing too; Deliver us from death, by dying so

That our affections kill us not, nor die; To this world, ere this world dobid us go:

Hear us, weak echoes, O thou ear, and cry.

UPON THE

Son of God, hear us; and since thou,

And till we come th' extemporal song to sing, By taking our blood, ow'st it us again,

(Learn’d the first hour, that we see the king, Gain to thyself and us allow;

Who hath translated those translators) may And let not both us and thyself be slain.

These, their sweet learned labours, all the way O Lamb of God, which took'st our sin, Be as our tuning; tlrat, when hence we part, Which could not stick to thee,

We may fall in with them, and sing our part.
O let it not return to us again;
But patient and physician being free,
As sin is nothing, let it no where be.

ODE.
VENGEANCE will sit above our faults; but till

She there do sit,

We see her not, nor them. Thus blind, yet still
TRANSLATION OF THE PSALMS, We lead her way; and thus, whilst we do ill,

We suffer it.
BY SIR PHILIP SYDNEY, AND THE COUXTESS OF PEMBROKE
HIS SISTER.

Unhappy he, whom youth makes not beware ETERNAL God, (for whom whoever dare

Of doing ill :

Enough we labour under age and care; Seek new expressions, do the circle square,

In number th' errours of the last place are
And thrust into strait corners of poor wit

The greatest still.
Thee, who art cornerless and infinite)
I would but bless thy name, not name thee now;.

Yet we, that should the ill, we now begin, (And thy gifts are as infinite as thou :)

As soon repent,

(seen, Fix we oar praises, therefore on this one, That as thy blessed Spirit fell upon

(Strange thiog!) perceive not; our faults are not These psalms' first author in a cloven tongue,

But past us; neither felt, but only in

The punishment.
(For 't was a double power by which he sung,
The highest matter in the noblest form ;)
So thou hast cleft that spirit, to perform

But we know ourselves least; mere outward shows

Our minds so store, That work again, and shed it here upon

That our souls, no more than our eyes, disclose Two by their bloods, and by thy spirit one;

But form and colour. Only he, who knows
A brother and a sister, made by thee

Himself, knows more,
The organ, where thou art the barmony;
Two, that make one Jobn Baptist's holy voice;
And who that psalm, “Now let the isles rejoice,"
Have both translated, and apply'd it too;
Both told us what, and taught us how to do.

TO MR. TILMAN,
They show us islanders our joy, our king,
They tell us why, and teach us how to sing.
Make all this all, three choirs, Heav'n, Earth, and
spheres ;

Thou, whose diviner soul hath caus'd thee now
The first, Heav'n, hath a song, but no man hears; To put thy hand unto the holy plow,
The spheres have music, but they have no tongue, Making lay-scornings of the ministry,
Their harmony is rather danc'd than sung ; Not an impediment, but victory;
But our third choir, to which the first gives ear, What bring'st thou home with thee? how is thy mind
(For angels learn by what the church does here) Affected since the vintage ? Dost thou find
This choir bath all. The organist is he,

New thoughts and stirrings in thee? and, as steel Who hath tun'd God and man; the organ we: Touch'd with a load-stone, dost new motions feel? The songs are these, which Heav'n's high holy Muse Or as a ship, after much pain and care, Whisper'd to David, David to the Jews,

For iron and cloth brings home rich Indian ware, And David's successors in holy zeal,

Hast thou thus traffick'd, but with far more gain · In forms of joy and art do te-reveal

Of noble goods, and with less time and pain? To us so sweetly and sincerely too,

Thou art the same materials as before, That I must not rejoice as I would do,

Only the stamp is changed, but no more. When I behold, that these psalms are become And as new crowned kings alter the face, So well attir'd abroad, so ill at home;

But not the money's substance; $o hath grace So well in chambers, in thy church so ill,

Chang'd only God's old image by creation, As I can scarce call that reform'd, until

To Christ's new stamp, at this thy coronation ; This be reform’d. Would a whole state present Or as we paint angels with wings, because A lesser gift than some one man hath sent ? They bear God's message, and proclaim his laws; And shall our church unto our spouse and king Since thou must do the like, and so must move, More hoarse, more harsh than any other, sing? Art thou new feather'd with celestial love? For that we pray, we praise thy name for this, Dear, tell me where thy purchase lies, and show Which by this Moses and this Miriam is

What thy advantage is above, below; Already done; and as those psalms we call But if thy gainings do surmount expression, (Though some bave other authors) David's all: Why doth the foolish world scoru that profession, So though some have, some may some psalms trans- Whose joys pass speech? Why do they think anfit We thy Sydnean psalms shall celebrate; [late, That gentry should join families with it?

AFTER HE HAD TAKEN ORDERS.

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