[grace,

That sacred vessell by the Lord elect'd,
From whom each soule might draw forth streames of
Who doing, suffering, never was deject'd,
Though beaten, bound, in prison, and disgrace,
He boldly did professe what he affect'd,
And kept the faith, till finishing his race
At fatall Rome, the mother of much ill,

Where with his bloud at last he seal'd his will.

That publican who did in scroules digest

Those treasures first, whose power each conscience binds:

He whose few lines doe some strange things attest, From grounds (though true) which now no reader findes :

He who was choic'd by Lot, and all the rest Whose feet Christ wash'd, to humble haughty mindes,

Which forme, in vaine, some fondly would affect,
Though bow'd in show, whil'st swelling in effect.

Then with those twelve, some happy men did haunt,
(Heaven's messengers, evangelizing peace)
As he who watred after Paul did plant,
And circumcis'd to please the Hebrew race,
He (full of faith) who did fraile passions daunt,
Halfe lew, halfe Gentile; joyning both in grace:
Next Silas, Titus and a troupe I spy,
Who with th' apostles did their travels try.

She, rais'd from death, and prais'd for doing well,
Who charitable garments made and gave,
That theatirian, who did purple sell,
But greater treasure freely did receive;
That lady call'd elect, as to excell,
Who hath already fame, shall glory have:
Some of this sexe, beside with those are found,
Whose piety eternall pennes renown'd.

Those guiltlesse babes at Bethel kill'd by guesse,
(Loe, jealous mindes each shadow doth affright)
That martyrs were before they could professe,
By suffring happy, ere to doe of might,

They now in Heaven a glorious state possesse,
And from world's toiles, by time did take their
flight:

Thus falne for Christ, before at all they stood,
Those dy'd as Christians, baptiz'd with their bloud.

There he whom Iacob's farre degener'd race,
By calumnies accus'd, with partiall spite,
The martyr's mirrour, eminent in place,
Who sacred scriptures did solemnly cite,
Whil'st like an angell shining was his face,
Not pale for feare, no, lightning forth delight:
For, he those suffrings farre more glorious thought,
Then all the wonders that by him were wrought.

With blasts of blasphemy, and shoures of bloud,
They, not by signes charactring then their crosse,
Did beare it selfe, and try'd by tortures stood;
Did passe (as trifles) for a greater good:
Of honour, fortune, friends, or life, the losse,
[heart,
Paine (scorn'd) but rais'd, not rack'd their soule nor
Who (even when suffring) act'd the bravest part.
My Muse (ingenuous) gladly would burst forth,
Their praise (when burning) who triumph'd in hearts,
Of whom each one deserves (respecting worth)
An epicke poeme, grac'd by all the arts;
Would God she could translate unto the north,
Their vertue's relicts, not terrestriall parts:
Which (even in soules enshrin'd) might reverence
As hence in glory, living here by fame. [claime,
Those learned doctors, primitively great,
The churche's ancients, whom account we may,
As foster-fathers of her infant state,
Lights set ere noone, yet lightning all the day,
Who did Christ's cause by words, by bookes debate,
And banish'd, tortar'd, kill'd, did constant stay:
What rare examples for each following age,
To scorne the fury of a tyrant's rage?

When good Ignatius, (highly to be priz'd)
Was brag'd by beasts, which roar'd with rouling eyes,
He boldly said (their gaping jawes despis'd)
"Fine wheate for Christ this grinding now me tryes;"
Not like that sect which was by one devis'd,
Who had his name, whom Heaven farre differing
Ignatians to inflict, not suffer fire,
[spyes:
Whose too great sprits to vexe the world conspire.

There Smyrna's angell, whom Iohn did affect,
In stormy times who did a light appeare,
Whom easterne churches did to Rome direct,
Of Hester's feast the question'd time to cleare,
His death fore-dream'd, as falling in effect,
(Sayd) urg'd to leave his lord (so long held deare :)
"Whom I for master fourescore yeares did try,
And found so good, I will his servant dye."

Like sayles with winde, fire's curling waves did swell,
From Heaven encourag'd to continue good,
(As gold refin'd, whose brightnesse doth excell)
All crown'd with flames, the reverent old man stood;
(A sacrifice which did most sweetly smell)
They burn'd not him, he quench'd them with his
To hide his dust, the Pagans did accord, [bloud:
Lest the beholders had the same ador'd.

When Iustine sought (as learning did direct)
How one might arme for death, vaine pleasures loath,
Whil'st Christians' courage nothing could deject,
(Though try'd extreamely) confident in both,
So that their course bred vertue in effect,
Philosophy but superficiall froth:

He needs would try who did their grounds devise,
Whence resolution did so bravely rise.

And when baptiz'd, his braines first clouds were past,
The gospel's light he clearely came to know,
Then, what he gain'd, resolv'd to use, not wast,
Straight what he learn'd, did teach, Christ's truth
to show,

Till (out of envy) heath'nish Crescens last,
When learning fail'd, did him by art orethrow:
Who added one unto the Christian feasts,
Long toss'd by men, and torne in th' end by beasts.

When charg'd with yeares (to dye by Nature ply'd)
Of body weake, but vigorous in minde,
When silver haires (with bloud in crimson dy'd)
Wept rubies downe, whil'st th' eyes still tearelesse
shin'd,

The wrinckles (raz'd by wounds) could not be spy'd,
By scourging, scorning, torturing, threatning, pin'd:
Old Photinus and Simeon where long plac'd,
Ierusalem, and Lions highly grac'd.

Then Irenæus after doth succeed
To Photipus, in merit, and in place,
Who,whil'st church-rites did great contention breed,
Would not for them disturbe the common peace;
With him Tertullian, Tullian thrise indeed,

For wit and skill, which learning's height did grace:
What pen can to their pennes afford due praise,
Which did afflicted faith defend and raise.

By mother's care from martyrdome restrayn'd,
He who for death confirm'd his father's will,
But, though in scriptures by long practise train'd,
One text for chastnesse did interpret ill,

And (even by that in which he gloried stayn'd)
Too superstitiously disposed still:

By offring incense, idols did adore,

To scape disgrace from a detested More.

| From Alexandria, sundry I behold,
Who at this meeting joyfully doe shout,
As Athanasius for the truth still bold,
By Arians banish'd, but not brought to doubt,
And that Paphnutius, (happy man when old)
Of whom the eyes Christ's en'mies had bor'd out,
Whose seate disfigur'd, Constantine did kisse,
Of faith a trophee, and a badge of blisse.

The easterne churches first did Christ embrace,
And drew their faith from fountaines that were pure,
What famous doctours, singular for grace, [scure?
Have clear'd those parts, though at this time e-
What glorious martyrs, crowning there their race,
The fyrie tryall, gold-like did endure?
To thinke of them, my soule for anguish groanes;
Ah, that base Turkes should tread upon their bones!

But since, deare Muse, to grace all worth inclin'd,
Two's fame of force, thy offring must procure,
A modest virgin, faire of face and minde,
Whose soule and body all men prais'd as pure;
She for Christ's faith was to a stewes confin'd,
There (worse then death) vile basenesse to endure:
Where she, though chast, a strumpet's name should
gaine,

(Though innocent) forc'd sinne to entertaine.

Oft in her cheekes shame kindled vertue's flames,
Though in pale ashes quickly quench'd by feares;
Yet death to force the desp'rate virgin dreames,
And haughty fancies, stormy courage reares,
Whose generous fury straight religion tames,
Yet could not calme sad sighes, nor dry salt teares:
She (as her enemy) beauty did abhorre,

The leprous envy'd, wish'd to be a More.

Whil'st thus perplex'd the pensive maid did sit, With hands a crosse, eyes lifted to the sky,

breach,

Whil'st high remorse his guilty minde did racke,
At Sion urg'd some sacred part to teach,
These words of God his ground did chance to make,
"My righteousnesse why should a sinner preach,
Or in his mouth my testimony take?"
Then quite confounded, leaving longing eares,

Which she must leave, or him she must deny;
There was no hope for force, nor place for wit,
When one comes in, as if her first to try:
But in his garments bids her flye away,
And he in hers would as a woman stay.

When Theodora, Didymus did leave,

teares.

There he (though once to damned arts a prey)
Who for true knowledge singular did prove,
And did the church (admir'd by Affricke) sway,
Of Rome's old rivall, when with fame in love,
With righteousnesse all Christians to array,
Who long by tongue, and still by pen doth move:
With greater power then whilst on th' Earth he
stood,

"Writs grow, when watred with the author's bloud."

With this bright troupe, Christ's champion doth approach,

Whose torture, no, whose triumph I must praise,
Then earst Eliah in his fyery coach,

Who did himselfe to Heaven more bravely raise,
Whil'st on his gridiron flames did fast encroach,
Those words of his the hearers did amaze :
"Now tyrant chuse, since here halfe broil'd I rest,
If rosted flesh, or raw, doth please thee best."

His danger first he could not but conceive,
A man soone knowne, a Christian he confess'd,
"Who could," said he, "of worth but seeke to save,
A woman's honour, a poore mayd distress'd?
And since you her but for religion blame, [shame?"
Should thoughts so purè be cross'd by publike

He straight was damn'd to death by partiall hate,
Though charg'd for nothing but for doing good,
And she who heard the danger of his state,
Came him to free, by offring up her bloud:
Both striv'd for death; magnanimous debate!
Whil'st with religion, vertue emulous stood:
They generously devout, devoutly brave,
Taught Gentiles worth, true zeale to Christians gave.

A tyrant, when contemn'd, more fierce doth prove,
Much haste was us'd, that both might fall by fire;
Bright were the flames of their immortall love,
Which never burn'd with any base desire:
This match contract'd below, perform'd above,
God grac'd with angels in Heaven's highest quire:

And as their ashes, soules conjoyn'd did flye,
Whil'st each for th' other, both for Christ did dye.
Not onely men (whom courage bold doth make)
By conscience prick'd, and by their honour bound,
Nor women fraile, who for each terrour quake,
And cannot see, much lesse endure a wound;
Even children yong did resolution take,
Of paines with parents happy partners found:
That from low grounds may rise a glorious height,
"God by weake meanes most magnifies his might.
What pen can paint, or yet what heart conceive,
When Christians first to plant the gospell toil'd,
To them what trouble Pagans daily gave,
Still banish'd, scourg'd, of place and fortunes spoil'd?
Not suffred to have life, no, nor a grave, [broil'd:
Drown'd, burn'd, beheaded, torne with beasts, and
Their ashes swallow'd, or dispers'd for spite,
As if their being to abolish quite.

(A sacrifice to every tyrant's wrath)

Not puffed up presuming of a rock, But, Peter-like, in teares, in bands, and death, + More strong then he when challeng'd by a cock, For forfeiting the glory of his faith:

རྟ་

Then mitres now with pompe so proudly borne,
More glorious crownes those martyrs did adorne.
Those pastors then, farre from contentious pride,
All worldly honours did as rocks eschue,
And onely carefull how their flocke to guide,
Not rich, nor haughty, poore, and humble grew;
None striv'd for place, but where to lurke not spy'd,
Whil'st to their charge still martyrdome was due :
Kings' subjects true, though subject to their wrath,
Not torturing others, suffring for the faith.

O treacherous riches, hatching many harmes!
The world's corrupter, though chiefe ground of trust,
Of peace the poyson, daunting men in armes,
The foile of laws, a tempter to the just,
Nurse of all vice, who can allure with charmes,
Till even the chast (at last for thee) do lust ;
The onely bawd who dost abuse each state;
Yet for all this whom none on Earth doth hate.

Thou, riches, thou, thou didst deprave each part,
By which Rome's church had flourish'd first so long,
Empoysoning with pride her bishop's heart,
More weak with God, when with the world grown
strong;

That gift which Constantine was said t' impart,
If forg'd, or true, did make them first go wrong:
A wooden chalice golden priests did use,
A golden chalice wooden priests abuse.
When once grown great, and lords of many lands,
Church-rulers prov'd the cause of shedding bloud;
The Guelphs and Gibilins oft arm'd in bands,
Till on an emp'rour one triumphing stood;
And whil'st a sword flam'd terrour in his hands,
The scorned keyes one drown'd in 'Tiber's flood:
Not to perswade, but to compell they went,
As earst to save, then how to ruine bent.

But though smooth calmes had blunted many a
Where persecution quickned all before, [minde,
Yet some to zeale, franke gratefulnesse did binde,
Even in these times remisse remark'd the more;
And whil'st by others' foils more bright they shin'd,
Their faith by fruits did (though secure) decore:
VOL. V.

Interpreting the truth, translating right,
Who for his dwelling singled out the place,
Where first our Saviour view'd this changling light;
And of fraile thoughts disturbing fleshly peace,
This judgement last with horrour at the height,
Did apprehend (as marking flaming spheares)
That still Christ's trumpet thundred in his eares.
That mother, whose kinde teares with ardour shed,
Wise Ambrose said could not in vaine be spent,
Here comes her sonne whom with such care she bred,
Much for bis body, for his soule more bent;
Through errour's maze long intricately led,
A friend, and she oft urging to repent:
By which (made famous) his conversion shines.
His eare did move his eye to reade these lines,

And thus what travell huge behov'd to be,
Ere this great person to the light was brought?
Who still in toile, the world from harme to free,
Then earst Alcides, with more monsters fought,
Of heresies most horrible to see,

Whose learned workes a full confusion wrought;
And yet of them he did some faults redresse,
Even strong in that, his weakenesse to confesse.
When barbarous Vandals did that place besiege,
Not able to resist their boundlesse rage,
Where this rare pastor his attendance gave,
Who (grosse) such parts as his could not conceive,
To flye their force, he yeelded unto age,
His towne (ere stayn'd) in purity to leave:
Whose happy rule still lasted with his life:
Thus at his funerals teares of force were rife.
Whil'st emulous judgements who but fame affect,
To praise themselves, all others would abate;
And where familiar, leaving due respect,
All what they reach, prize at an easie rate;
I living men, the world doth worth neglect,
Mark'd carelesly, by envy, or by hate:
And they, when gone, are by the world admir'd,
As he was straight when once from hence retir'd.
Thus Hippo's bishop, th' ornament of arts,
Scarce free from stormes, was harbour'd in his port,
When rancour raging in the Arians' hearts,
In Affricke made the Christians' peace but short;
Neare thousands five, dispers'd in sundry parts,
Were after kill'd by cruelties' worst sort:
And some dismembred, yet enjoy'd their breath,
Who (living martyrs) had triumph'd ore death.
Ce

A generall meeting publikely decreed,
As to consult about the churche's state,
Foure hundred fathers joyn'd themselves with speed,
Where doubts did challenge, freely to debate;
Ah! can religion so much mischiefe breed,
As under trust to show the height of hate?
Religion's show, God's bishops did beguile :
Who met for peace, went parting in exile.

Then some were burn'd to terrifie the rest,
Whose banishment their constancy decor'd,
Till that fierce tyrant (Affricke's fatall pest)
For erring Arians fought against the Lord,
And dy'd by vermine, with a stormy brest,
Whil'st (as his minde) his body was abhorr'd:
Thus he like Herod, like to him did end, [attend."
"Such monsters strange, strange judgements doe

Loe, selfe-divisions still the church did marre,
Superfluous knowledge toiling clouds to cleare;
Worse then with Turkes, with Christians, Christians
jarre ;

In levell grounds, all ruptures most appeare,
And each small distance seemes exceeding farre,
In them who (if not joyn'd) are naught, though neare:
Those curious doubts which good men doe eschew,
Make many atheists, and doe better few.

But, vent'rous Muse, a troupe we now must trace,
Prais'd for their rarenesse at the higher rate,
As eminent for parts, as in their place,
Their people's better each way as in state;
Them soveraignty did show, they it did grace,
Not by opinion, but with reason great:
Fraile diadems did earst adorne their brow,
These everlasting are, which decke them now.

Great Constantine, who but commend thee must?
Afflicting furies thou didst soone asswage,
Whom (ere adventring) victory to trust,
A signe in Heaven for surety did engage;
Thou quench'd in Tiber's streames a tyrant's lust,
Which did in Rome exorbitantly rage:
And (persecution brought unto an end)
The Christian faith didst first by armes defend.

Though great with power, a stranger still to pride,
By warre prevailing, yet a friend to peace,
He rul'd, not raign'd, world's emperour, no, her guide,
As then with men, now high with God in place;
He for the church (as father) did provide,
And to be gorgeous, brought her from disgrace:
That she who late for feare durst not be seene,
Straight rais'd with pompe, was courted as a queene.

A brave intention bad effects may breed,
And things once good may be deprav'd by time;
This prince, bent to supply the churche's need,
Did taint that purenesse which adorn'd her prime,
And choak'd with surfet, where he sought to feed,
The guiltlesse authour of a casuall crime:
That towne for Christians thus which rear'd he had,
The Turkes'chiefe seate,makes many a Christian sad.

His father once (as heath'nish) did pretend,
That in his campe no Christian more should dwell,
And numbers (straight lest him they should offend)
From their profession impudently fell;
But them who constant were, he did commend,
And from his court the others did expell:

For those whose basenesse all men thus might view, Since false to God, could not to him be true.

Next comes a lady crown'd with glory forth,
Of these first two the mother, and the wife,
Whose birth and vertue did adorne the north,
Where first this ile did give such goodnesse life;
O how great persons doe make worth more worth'
Her zeale in thousands bred a godly strife,
Like Sparta's queene for beauty, and in name,
Not of so great, but of farre better fame.

Devotion at the height, (yet not a sinne)
The scorn'd extreame did come so neare to touch,
That they who follow'd, did fall grosly in;
Thus superstition taught, by zeale grew such,
Which pilgrimage and relicts did begin;
That crosse she found, did since crosse Christ too
much:

Of whose true crosse, we but by suff'ring share,
Here but of wood, her sonnes was drawn in th' ayre.

soure,

(Who raign'd in state, oft ending like a beast)
Though image-breakers, foes to papall power,
In whose vast minde, religion's part was least:
Those barb'rous lords whom dying Greece did breed,
Were types of Turkes that after should succeed.
Brave Martell's sonne, great Charles, the pride of
France,

To plague the Pagans heritably borne,
Who over th' Alpes his ensignes did advance,
The German's terrour, the Italian's scorne,
Who from old foes begg'd helpe (what worse could
chance?)

And with new titles did a Gaule adorne:
Ambition here joyn'd two by mutuall hopes,
But since few emp'rours could agree with popes.

That dignity whose virgin flower was due,
To brave commanders, victory to crowne,
Whil'st but in name, and not in essence true,
A Roman relict in a Grecian towne,
They gave it him, (as after did ensue)
That gratefulnesse might godlinesse presse downe:
Yet even when his ownę tutor had the seate,
He oft tax'd Rome, which straight grew grosse, when
great.

The next great Christian grac'd by sacred armes,
A glorious plant from the same bounds did spring,
From infidels, who back (by fierce alarmes)
The tombe of Christ and David's throne did bring;
His foes all vanquish'd, and the world's base charmes,
When both by conquest and by choice a king:
He would for state be onely crown'd with thorne,
To him for glory, though given Christ for scorne.

Some else with him whom Heaven's chiefe stamp did
And in their breasts just fury did infuse, [seale,
Not for fraile glory, but enflam'd with zeale, [use,
Who for good ends, warre (man's worst meanes) did
Their praise from fame no treacherous time can
Immortalliz'd by ravish'd Tassoe's muse, [steale,
To crowne their conquest (scorning latter broils)
With stately trophees rear'd of Pagans' spoils.
That towne (a garden long for Heaven's choice
By baptiz'd kings commanded for a space, [flowers)
Was brought to bondage by barbarian powers,
Farre from faire Sion when with God in grace,
Yet once againe to free her stately towers,
The steps of Godfrey sundry striv'd to trace,
With German, English, French, and other bands,
But fail'd in fortune, not in hearts, nor hands.

When purgatory gold enough not gave,
Croisadoes then did holy warres pretend,
And (cosening kingdomes) did franke zeale deceive,
Whil'st publick aymes did maske a private end;
Oft princes thus (that they lesse power might have)
Rome's powerfull threatnings did to Syria send,
Who (jarring still) fear'd their abandon'd states,
Of neighbours jealous, emulous of mates.

But what great conquest could those kings acquire,
To take the crosse whom crosses did constraine,
And not resolv'dly of their owne desire,
As courting glory, or expecting gaine?
Some (whose brave minds conceiv'd a generous ire)
More by their friends, then by their foes in paine,
With shows of vantage gladly did remove;
And all that warre infortunate did prove.

That simple age (rul'd by religious feares)
As priests were pleas'd in every thing did deale,
Who did the grounds of truth from vulgar eares,
(To breed devotion) cunningly conceale,
Thus urging almes, and for each sinne true teares,
Whil'st want of knowledge bred prepost'rous zeale:
Then superstition (lavishly devout)
Not truly worship'd, but did grosly dote.

When minds of light base ignorance depriv❜d,
(His beauties grac'd with many foils plac'd neare)
To banish darknesse godly Bernard striv'd,
A starre by night, more eminently cleare,
Not smelling of that age in which he liv'd,
His works were wonders then, and still are deare;

Those whom that doltish time with him brought forth, [worth. He makes their faults seeme worse, they grace his

That dainty towne, the pearle of Arnes rich plains,
A nurcery of good wits, still friend to arts,
Not mother (as one said) of haplesse swaines,
Doth now yeeld three, all prais'd for vertuous parts;
The first old Dante (swolne with just disdaines)
To see the errours of corrupted hearts:
Who doth their wayes (a censure) strictly trace,
Yet more then God did make doth grant one place.

The next is one whose brows were crown'd with bayes,
Who (chastly loving) worth did finde or faine,
And (never jealous but of Phoebus' rayes)
His lines (still pure) no sparke of lust could staine,
When marking well of Rome the wandring wayes,
(lust fury bursting forth, indeed divine)
Which in his soule he highly did disdaine.
Her faults (since tax'd) first clearly did designe.