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THE SACRED POEMS AND PRIVATE EJACULATIONS OF HENRY VAUGHAN WITH A MEMOIR BY THE REV. H. F. LYTE Gift. ■ncr t,. Shoemaker 7 8 *06 Contents. Page BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF HENRY VaUGHAN . . ix The Author's Preface li Dedication lxv Author's (de se) Emblema lxxi SlLEX SdNTILLANS, OR SACRED POEMS. PART I. Regeneration 3 Death. A Dialogue 6 Refurredtion and Immortality 8 Day of Judgement 10 Religion 12 The Search 14 Ifaac's Marriage 18 The Brittifli Church 20 The Lampe . . . 21 Man's Fall, and Recovery ...... 22 The Showre 24. Diffraction 25 The Purfuite ....—,.... 26 Mount of Olives 27 The Incarnation, and Parlion 28 The Call 29 " Thou that know'ft for whom I mourne," . . 30 Vanity of Spirit 32 The Retreate 33 " Come, come ! what doe I here ? " . . . . 34 Midnight 35 Content 37 " Joy of my life while left me here !" . . . 38 The Storm 39 The Morning-watch 40 The Evening- watch 41 " Silence and ftealth of dayes ! 'tis now," ... 42 Church-Service 43 Buriall 44 Chearfulnefs 46 " Sure there's a tye of Bodyes ! and as they" . . 47 Peace 48 vi CONTENTS. Silex Scintillans. Page The Paffion 48 Rom. Cap. 8, ver. 19 50 The Relapfe 52 TheRefolve 53 The Match 54 Rules -and LefTons 55 Corruption. . 61 H. Scriptures 62 Unprofitablenefs 63 Chrift's Nativity * 63 The Check 65 Diforder and Frailty 67 Idle Verfe . . 69 Son-dayes . 70 Repentance 71 The Burial of an Infant 74 Faith •.... 75 The Dawning . 76 Admirlion . . . . ... . . . 78 Praife 79 Drefling 81 Eafter-day 83 Eafter Hymn 83 The Holy Communion 84 . Pfalm 121 86 Affliction 87 TheTempeft 88 Retirement 90 Love, and Difcipline 92 The Pilgrimage 93 The Law, and the Gofpel 94 The World 96 The Mutinie 98 The Conftellation . . . ... . . 100 The Shepheards 102 Mifery 104 The Sap ... 107 Mount of Olives 109 Man no a I Walkt the other day, to fpend my hour," . . in fing 114 Part II. Afcenlion-day . ... 117 Afcenfion-Hymn 119 "They are all gone into the world of light!" . . 120 White Sunday . . 122 CONTENTS. VII SlLEX SCINTILLANS. The Proffer Cock-Crowing The Starre . The Palm-tree Joy • • The Favour The Garland Love-lick . Trinity-Sunday Pfalme 104 The Bird . The Timber The Jews . Begging . Palm-Sunday Jefus weeping The Daughter of Herodias Jefus weeping Providence The Knot . The Ornament St. Mary Magdalen The Rain-bow The Seed growing fecretly u As time one day by me did pafs " Fair and yong light ! my guide t( The Stone . The dwelling-place The Men of War The Afs . . The hidden Treafure Childe-hood The Night . Abel's blood Righteoufnefs Anguifh . Tears . Jacob's Pillow, and Pillar The Agreement The day of Judgment Pfalm 65 . The Throne Death The Feaft . The Obfequies The Water-fall holy Page 124 126 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 J 35 138 139 142 H3 144 146 H7 148 150 152 J 53 154 156 158 160 161 163 165 166 168 170 171 173 J 75 176 178 179 180 182 184 186 187 188 189 192 '93 CONTENTS. SlLEX SciNTILLANS. Quicknefs . The Wreath . The Queer The Book . To the Holy Bible L'Envoy Part III. Thalia Rediviva. Ejaculations. To his Books . Looking back . The Shower Difcipline .... The Ecclipfe . Affliaion .... Retirement . . The Revival The Day fpring The Recovery . The Nativity . The true Chriftmas . The Requeft . The World . . . The Bee ... To Chriftian Religion Daphnis .... Pious Thoughts and Page *95 r 95 196 *97 198 199 205 206 207 207 208 208 209 210 210 212 213 214 215 216 219 223 224 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF HENRT VAUGHAN, SILURIST. r Biographical Sketch of Henry Vaughan, >He principal colle&ions of the Britifh poets were made at a time when the tafte for French corre&nefs was in the afcendant among us. This may in fome meafure account for the fad that fo many fmooth Rhymfters, fuch as Pomfret, Yalden, Lanfdown, &c, have been placed on that auguft lift, while Lord Brooke, the Fletch- ers, Withers, Herrick, Habington, and Quarles, have been excluded from it ; and it is only when fome happy accident brings thefe writers and their productions under our notice, that we difcover how many of the true poets of England have been pufhed from their places, to make room for mere xii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH pretenders to the title. In fome instances it would almoft feem as if thefe writers had been ftudioufly run down by thofe, who ftole from them firft, and then fought to conlign them to obfcurity, in order to cover their own plagiarifms. From the days of Milton however, down to thofe of Burns and Cowper, a very low ftandard of poetic excellence prevailed in this country , and a trifling offence againft good tafte, a flight ruggednefs in ftyle and composition, were fufficient to condemn a poet of no mean order to oblivion ; as if any corredlnefs of tafte or fmoothnefs of verfification could atone for the aftual dearth of originality. Among thofe who have experienced in a remarkable degree this unfair treatment is the Poet, a part of whofe works we propofe now to repub- lifh. He is entirely unnoticed in the great colle&ions of Bell, Anderfon, and Chalmers ; and even Campbell, in his fpecimens of the Britifli poets, fpeaks in the moft flighting manner of his talents and productions. All this however is trifling in comparifon with the treatment he receives at the hand of his own County OF HENRT VAUGHAN. xiii Hiftorian, Jones. This writer adually doubts whether Henry Vaughan ever pro- duced any poetry whatever. He tells us that two little pieces of his, the Olor Ifca- nus, and the Charnel Houfe, were pub- lished by Thomas Vaughan, in the name of his brother Henry ; but that they were generally believed to be Thomas Vaughan's own compositions. So ignorantly and flippantly could the Hiftorian of Breck- nockfhire write refpe&ing one of its great- eft literary ornaments, whofe works, now before us, amount to feven printed volumes. How far this depreciation was deferved, the poems preferved in the following pages will beft teftify ; but we are much de- ceived if many of them do not commend themfelves to all readers of true poetic tafte, as among the moft ftriking compo- sitions of their age. In this cafe a defire will naturally arife to know fomething re- fpe&ing the Author, and this curiofity the Editor here endeavours to gratify : and after carefully looking through the afore- faid volumes, and making what enquiries he could both at Oxford and in the neigh- bourhood where Vaughan lived and died, xiv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH he offers in the following biographical fketch the refults of his refearches. It may be as well here further to obferve that Henry Vaughan the poet, muft not be con- founded with another of the fame name, college, and neighbourhood, who wrote two little theological pieces of fome merit. Though poffeffing fo many features in common they were, as the records of Jefus College fhow, totally different perfons. Henry Vaughan, ftyled by his contem- poraries cc the Silurift," from his having been born among the Silures, or people of South Wales, was defcended from one of the moft ancient and refpedtable families of the Principality, deducing its pedigree from the ancient kings of that country. Two of his anceftors, Sir Roger Vaughan and Sir David Gam, loft their lives at the battle of Agincourt. His great grand- mother was Lady Frances Somerfet, daughter of Thomas Somerfet, third fon of Henry Earl of Worcefter, and the poffeflions of the Vaughan family were very extenfive both in Brecknockfhire and in other parts of Wales. The chief family residence was the caftle of Tretower, in OF HENRT VAVGHAN. xv the parifh of Cwmdu, and, when it was difmantled, Skethrock, or Scethrog, in the fame neighbourhood. At this latter place Shakefpeare is faid to have paid a vifit to one of the family, and his Commentator Malone thinks that it was perhaps there that he picked up the word cc Puck/' re- fpedting the origin of which fome of his critics have been much puzzled. Pooky in Welfh fignifies a goblin, and near Sceth- rog exifts a valley, Cwm- Pooky, the goblin's vale, which belonged to the Vaughans, and which a tradition, ftill ex- tant, ftates to have been a favorite refort of fome diftinguiflied " Bard," who had once vifited that neighbourhood. The grandfather of the poet appears to have migrated from Tretower to Newton, in the parifh of Llanfaintfread, about five miles diftant from the family refidence ; and there his fon Henry, in the year 1 62 1, had iflue Henry and Thomas Vaughan, twin brothers, the former of them the fubjeft of the prefent memoir. Newton, once a comfortable manfion, is now a farm-houfe near the Ufk, on the road leading from Crickhowel to Brecon, xvi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH and diftant about five miles from the latter place. Henry Vaughan ftyles it himfelf, in the date affixed to one of his dedications, cc Newton by Ufke, near Sketh-rock." The fituation is a very beautiful one, well calculated to nurfe poetic thought and feeling ; and there is abundant evidence in Vaughans works, to fhow that it was not unappreciated by its poetic occupant. There are fome very fweet Latin verfes in one of his early volumes addrefled to the Ufk, and the following lines occur in one of his Englifh apoftrophies to the fame River ; " Garlands and fongs and roundelayes, Mild dewie nights, and funfhine dayes, The turtle's voyce, joy without fear, Dwell on thy bofome all the year ! To Thee the wind from far mall bring The odours of the fcattered fpring, And loaden with the rich arreare Spend it in fpicie whifpers here." At the age of eleven years Henry Vaughan and his brother were fent for education to the Rev. Matthew Herbert, Re6tor of Llangattock, under whofe tui- tion they continued during the enfuing fix OF HENRT FAUGHAN. xvii years. Here they feem to have made considerable progrefs in claflical literature, and to have imbibed a ftrong affeftion for their tutor, as well as a lively fenfe of their obligations toward him. They have both left behind them elegant and affec- tionate tributes in Latin Elegiacs to their old preceptor, and the graceful clafficality of thefe compositions proves how well their praifes were deferved. From Llangattock the brothers in due time moved on to Oxford, and entered at Jefus College in the year 1638. They were then between 17 and 18 years of age, and well qualified for engaging in the ftudies of the Univerfity. They had fallen however on times unpropitious to literary purfuits. The great rebellion was now fermenting, and politics feemed to pufh every thing elfe into the back ground. The King too by and by moved his Court from London to Oxford, where he had the fympathy and fupport of almoft all the members of the Univerfity. It was fcarcely to be expe&ed that two young and ardent fpirits, like thofe of the Vaughans, would be indifferent to the xviii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH Royal caufe. They were fprung from a family diftinguifhed for its loyalty; and Wales throughout the Civil War was al- ways favorable to Charles : accordingly we find them both zealous royalifts. Thomas Vaughan adually bore arms on the King's fide, and Henry fufFered ob- loquy and imprifonment for his known and avowed attachment to his Royal mafter. This latter fad appears from a poem of his addrefled to his cc learned friend, and loyal fellow prifoner, Thomas Powell, D.D." Whether he ever adually took the field on the King's fide may be a matter of doubt. He fpeaks in a poem of his, of having been cc torn from the fide " of a dear young friend, R. W., in the battle of Rowton Heath, near Chefter, 1645 ; an d there are other paflages in his works which feem to intimate that he had been engaged in adlual conflict with the enemy. However, on the other hand a Latin poem of his, written in 1647, ex ~ prefsly aflerts that he had then nothing to do with open warfare. He confidered, he tells us, that there was a voice in a bro- ther's blood, which would cry to Heaven OF HENRY FAUGHAN, xix againft the fhedder of it, and therefore he confcientioufly abftained from meeting in the field his infatuated Countrymen, though not from the advocacy of his Sovereign's caufe by every means which he deemed legitimate. His brother Thomas however had none of thefe fcruples ; and as his Hiftory is rather a Angular one, it may as well be here pur- fued to its clofe. Obtaining ordination from Bifhop Mainwaring, he was pre- fented by a diftant relation to the living of Llanfaintfread, the place of his birth, and went to refide there, clofe to his bro- ther Henry. The Parliamentary Ecclefi- afticalCommiflioners foon afterwards com- menced their inquifitorial vifitations, and Thomas Vaughan was expelled by them from his living, on the ufual charges of drunkennefs, fwearing, incontinency, and having borne arms for the King, the latter probably being, as in many other instances, his only real offence. On this event he retired to Oxford, and devoted the reft of his life to Chemiftry, or rather Alchemy, under the aufpices of Sir Robert Murray, Secretary of State for Scotland, himfelf a xx BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH great admirer of thefe ftudies. While in his fervice Thomas Vaughan publifhed feveral works in verfe and profe under the title of Eugenius Philalethes. The names of fome of thefe are very whimfical and amufing. There is firft "Anima magica abfcondita, or a difcourfe of the Univerfal Spirit of Nature, with the ftrange abftrufe and miraculous afcent and defcent. — London, 1650." cc Anthropo- fophia Theomagica, or a difcourfe of the Nature of Man, and his ftate after death, grounded on his Creator's proto-chemiftry, — London, 1650." Cf Magia Adamica, or the Antiquity of Magic, and the defcent thereof from Adam downward, proved ; together with a perfedl and full difcovery of the true Coelum terrae, or the Magi- cian's Heavenly Chaos, and firft matter of all things. — London, 1650." The laft that we fhall mention is, " Euphrates, or the waters of the Eaft, being a fhort difcourfe of that fecret fountain, whofe water flows from fire, and carries in it the beams of the fun and moon ; Lond., 1653." In the year 1665, on the Plague breaking out in London, the Court of OF HENRT FAUGH AN. xxi Charles II. removed to Oxford, and Thomas Vaughan and his Patron ac- companied it. A few days afterwards however, he was taken ill, and, retir- ing to Albury, in the neighbourhood, he died there, Feb. 27th, 1665. Anthony Wood fums up his character by faying, " He was a great Chymift, a noted lover of the fire, an experimental Philofopher, a zealous brother of the Roficrucian fraternity, an underftander of fome of the Oriental languages, and a tolerable good Engliih and Latin Poet. He was neither Papift nor Sectary, but a true refolute Proteftant, in the beft fenfe of the Church of England." The two Brothers feem to have been always ftfongly attached to each other, Thomas had the higheft ad- miration of his brother's poetical powers, and ufhered in his early works with ftrong prefatorial commendations ; and Henry pathetically laments his more eccentric brother's untimely death, in the verfes entitled cc Daphnis," printed at the end of this volume. It was during this period of Henry Vaughan's life that his earlieft verfes were xxii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH produced. He was intimate with moft of the young literary men of the day, and his occafional efFufions appear to have been highly prized and long remembered among them. He fpeaks with much de- light of his occafional vifits to London at this time, and of the focial evenings fpent there at the Globe Tavern. He mentions Randolph as one whom he fpecially de- lighted in. He flung his poetic tribute, along with fo many others, on Cartwright's premature hearfe. Fletcher's plays, pub- lished in 1647, came out with commen- datory verfes of his prefixed to them. And Ben Jonfon, cc great Ben," feems to have been an objedt of his peculiar admiration. At this period alfo his own firft publica- tion was given to the world, a little vo- lume of verfes, chiefly amatory, addrefled to Amoret, in the light eafy ftyle of the day, and clofing with a tranflation — not a clofeone — of the 10th fatyre of Juvenal. Some of thefe poems exhibit a good deal of vigour and freedom in their verfifica- tion. The following is a favourable fpe- cimen : OF HENRT FAUGH AN. xxiii €€ But grant fome richer planet at my birth Had fpied me out, and meafured fo much earth Or gold unto my fhare, I mould have been Slave to thefe lower Elements, and feen My high-born foul flagge with their drofTe, and lye A prifoner to bafe mud and Alchemic I fhould perhaps eate orphans, and fucke up A dozen diftreft widowes in one cup. * * * Thanks then for this deliverance, BleiTed Powers ! You that difpenfe man's fortune and his houres ! How am I to you all engaged ! that thus By fuch ftrange meanes, almofr. miraculous, You mould preferve me ! you have gone the way To make me rich by taking all away. For I, had I been rich, as fure as fate, Would have been meddling with the king or ftate, Or fomething to undoe me ; and 'tis fit, We know, that who hath wealth mould have no wit. But above all thanks to that Providence, That armed me with a gallant foule and fenfe 'Gainft all misfortunes, that hath breathed fo much Of Heaven into me, that I fcorn the touch Of thefe low things, and can with courage dare Whatever fate or malice can prepare. I envy no man's purfe or mines. I know That lofing them I've loll their curfes too." The little volume from whence thefe lines are taken is entitled, cc Poems, with the tenth Satyre of Juvenal Englifhed, by Henry Vaughan, Gent. London, 1646. xxiv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH It became however now neceflary that Henry Vaughan fhould turn his attention to fome profeflion for a livelihood. What- ever patrimony may have defcended to him by inheritance, it appears to have been inadequate to his fupport. Befides, he was a Poet, one of that race of whom he playfully fays himfelf, " Thou malt not find a rich one. Take each clime, And run o'er all the pilgrimage of time, Thou'lt meet them poor, and everywhere defcrie A threadbare, gold-lefs genealogie." That this lot was not indeed a very dif- trefling one to him, we may conjecture from a paflage already quoted, as well as from other fine lines of his, in which, ad- drefling Fortune, he fays, " I care not for your wondrous hat and purfe ! The world's my palace. Fie contemplate there ; And make my progrefs into every fphere. The chambers of the aire are mine, thofe three Well furnifhed flories my pofleffion be. I hold them all in Capite, and fland Propt by my Fancy there. I fcorn your land, It lies fo far below me. Here I fee How all the facred liars do circle me." Then, after cafting off all the grofler parts of nature, he proceeds, OF HENRT FAUGHAN. xxv c ' Get up, my difentangled foul ! thy fire Is now refined, and nothing left to tire Or clog thy wings. Now my aufpicious flight Hath brought me to the Empyrean light. I am a feparate efTence, and can fee The emanations of the Deitie. And how they pafs the feraphims, and run Through every throne and Domination. With angels now and fpirits do I dwell ; And here it is my nature to do well. And fhall I then forfake the ftars and figns, To dote upon thy dark and curfed mines ? " All this however, though fine in the way of poetic fpeculation, would not do for every day pradtice. Accordingly Henry Vaughan, having no tafte for the Church, (indeed there was not much to attraft him thither in fuch times) turned his attention to medical purfuits, and leaving Oxford without graduating there he went to London, and in due time be- came M. D., and retired to practice at Brecknock (now Brecon) the county Town, a few miles diftant from his native place. He found things greatly changed there under the republican regime > and not very congenial, it would feem, to his own feelings. c xxvi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH " Here's brotherly Ruffs and Beards, and a ftrange fight Of high monumental Hats, tane at the fight Of eighty eight ; while every Burgeffe foots The mortal Pavement in eternall boots. " We find him accordingly foon migrat- ing from thence to his native refidence, Newton, where he continued to purfue his profeflion, and to employ his leifure hours in various literary occupations. About this time it was that he prepared for the prefs his little volume entitled « Olor Ifcanus," the fwan of the Ufk, the dedication of which to the Lord Kil- dare Digby, bears date December 17, 1647. This volume however he never himfelf publifhed. It appears to have been consigned to the hands of his brother, when he returned to Oxford on his ejec- tion from the living of Llanfaintfread, and in 1 6 5 1 > three years afterwards, it was printed by him, with an apologetic ad- vertifement, and commendatory verfes from himfelf and other Oxford friends. Thomas Vaughan, in his addrefs to the Reader, exprefsly fays, u I have not the Author's approbation to the fad," (viz, OF HENRT FAUGH AN... xxvii of publication) cc but I have the Law on my fide/' (as) cf I hold it no man's pre- rogative to fire his own houfe." It would appear therefore that Henry Vaughan wiflied to have destroyed thefe ebullitions of his youthful mufe, as he had many others of the fame kind, and that they were in the end published contrary to his defire. Yet there is really nothing objec- tionable in the volume. The poems con- tained in it are not of a ftri£tly religious chara&er ; yet they are full of juft and noble fentiments ; and I am not aware of a line that any one need have been afliamed of. The volume, when complete, has a curious frontifpiece, engraved by Robert Vaughan (qu. a relation ?) with the Swan of the Ufk, very confpicuous in the centre of it, and fome Latin verfes, cc ad Pofte- ros," before it, giving in enigmatical lan- guage, a flight fketch of the Author's life and opinions. The matter confifts of original poems, many of them addrefled to perfons of the Author's acquaintance, together with tranflations from Ovid's Triftia, Boethius^ and Cafimir, and a brief xxviii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH fpecimen or two will fuffice to fhow, that they are not without their beauties. In an Epithalamium occur thefe lines, " Frefli as the houres may all your pleafures be, And healthfull as Eternitie ! Sweet as the flowre's firfl breath, and clofe As th' unfeen fpreadings of the Rofe, When he unfolds his curtained head, And makes his bofome the Sun's bed! Of the Lady Elizabeth, daughter of James i., he fays, " Thou feem'it a rofe-bud born in mow, A flowre of purpofe fprung to bow To heedlefs tempefts, and the rage Of an incenfed ftormie age. And yet as Balm-trees gently fpend Their tears for thofe that doe them rend, Thou didit not murmure nor revile, But drank'ft thy wormwood with a fmile." In a different ftrain he thus concludes an invitation to a friend to Brecknock. " Come then ! and while the flow isicle hangs At the ftiffe thatch, and Winter's froftie pangs Benumme the year, blithe as of old let us Mid' noife and war, of peace and mirth difcufTe. This portion thou wert born for. Why fhould we Vex at the timers ridiculous miferie ? An age that thus hath fooled itfelf, and will, Spite of thy teeth and mine, perfifl fo Hill. OF HENRT FAUGH AN. xxix Let's fit then at this fire ; and, while wee ileal A revell in the Town, let others feal, Purchafe, and cheat, and who can let them pay, Till thofe black deeds bring on the darkfome day. Innocent lpenders wee ! a better ufe Shall wear out our fhort leafe, and leave the obtufe Rout to their hulks. They and their bags at bell Have cares in earneft. Wee care for a jell \" Another poem, the Chriftian Politician, thus ends : " Come then, rare politicians of the time, Brains of fome Handing, Elders in our clime, See here the method. A wife folid Hate Is quick in acting, friendly in debate, Joynt in advice, in refolutions juft* Mild in fuccefle, true to the Common trufl. It cements ruptures, and by gentle hand Allayes the heat and burnings of a land. Religion guides it ; and in all the tract Defignes fo twill, that Heaven confirms the a&. If from thefe lifts you wander, as you fteere, Look back, and catechife your actions here* Thefe are the marks to which true flatefmen tend, And greatnefs here with goodnefs hath one end." We can only afford room for one fpe- cimen of the translations. BOETHIUS, METRUM 4. " Whofe calme foule in a fettled ftate Kicks under foot the frowns of fate, xxx BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH And in his fortunes bad or good Keep the fame temper in his bloud, Not him the flaming clouds above, Nor Etna's fierie tempefts, move. No fretting feas from more to fhore, Boyling with indignation o'er, Nor burning thunderbolt, that can A mountain make, can ftirre this man ! " At the clofe of this volume are inferted four profe tranflations 3 all of them bearing more or lefs on the Author's purfuits or circumftances. The firft, cc on the benefit we may get by our enemies," from Plu- tarch ; the fecond, Cf Of the Difeafes of the Mind and Bodie/' from the fame; another, on the fame fubjedt, from Maxi- mus Tyrius ; and laftly, cc the praife and happinefTe of the Country Life," from the Spanifh of Guevara. All thefe have fepa- rate title-pages, and were publifhed in the year 165 1. * We now however approach a very im- portant period of our Poet's life, when a change feems to have come over his fpirit, which influenced it to the clofe of his earthly career. He was at this time vifited by a fevere and lingering illnefs, of what character exactly is not fpecified. It was OF HENRY VAVGHAN. xxxi however of a nature to bring him to the brink of the grave, and to keep him long in a ftate of folitude and fuffering ; and while he was in this condition more deep and folemn religious views and feelings appear to have broken in upon his foul than any he had before harboured. The high and holy claims of God, the infinite importance of eternity, the worthleffnefs of the world and the folly of living for it, the bafenefs of fin and the confequences of indulging in it, all feem to have prefled heavily on his mind at this crifis, and to have filled him with great humility and ferioufnefs ; and though he fubfe- quently learned to look with hope and comfort to the mercy of God, vouchfafed to the penitent, through the death and merits of Chrift Jefus, ftill this fpirit of lowly watchfulnefs, fo fuitable to frail humanity, feems never to have left him. He carried it with him to his dying bed ; and it appears in the Epitaph he wifhed to be infcribed on his tomb. During this period likewife, he feems to have had his affedtions feverely tried by the untimely death of friends. There are in the pieces xxxii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH compofed by him at this feafon many touching, though obfcure allufions to fuch lofles. And thefe, along with his other trials, contributed to break up the fallow ground in his heart, and prepare it for the reception of the divine feed that was fubfequently fown there. Juft at this time he became acquainted with the writings of George Herbert, and derived from them fo much of comfort and instruc- tion, that he determined to make the life and compofltions of that holy man his own future models. In imitation there- fore of his Temple, he compofed, during the intervals of exemption from acute Suffering, a number of little cc Sacred Poems, and private Ejaculations;" and while his Oxford friends were publishing, contrary to his wifhes, the Olor Ifcanus, he gave the world a more faithful record of his mind and heart, in a colle&ion of thefe, entitled, Cf Silex Scintillans," (Sparks from the flintftone.) This work was printed in London in the year 1650, and confifted of only one of the two parts fubfequently publifhed together. Clofe upon this publication followed a OF HENRT VAUGHAN. xxxiii little book of devotions in profe, entitled, cc The Mount of Olives/' and printed in the year 1652. It confifts entirely of prayers, meditations, and admonitions, all excellent of their kind, and calculated at once to benefit the reader, and raife the writer in his eftimation. There is little or no poetry in the volume, the only original poetical production there being a kind of preface to the laft piece in the volume, " an excellent difcourfe of the bleffed ftate of man in glory, written by the moft reverend and holy Father Anfelm, Arch- biftiop of Canterbury." The lines are as follows, Here Holy Anfelme lives in every page, And fits archbifhop Hill to vex the age. Had he forefeen, (and who knows but he did ?) — This fatal wrack, which deepe in time lay hid, 'Tis but juft to believe, that little hand, Which clouded him, but now benights our land, Had never like Elias driven him hence, A fad retirer for a flight offence. For were he now, like the returning year, Reftored to view thefe defolations here, He would do penance for his old complaint, And weeping fay, that Rufus was a Saint. This work is dedicated, Odober ift, xxxiv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 165 1, to Sir Charles Egerton Knight, to whom the writer fays, cc I know, Sir, you will be pleafed to accept this poore olive leafe prefented to you, fo that I fhall not be driven to put forth my hand to take in my Dove again." It will be conjeftured, from the Epithets given to St. Anfelm, that Vaughan's religious fpirit, though very fervent and real, was not exadlly of the charadfcer of that which prevailed at this time. The Puritan principle had been to cry down antiquity, and pour contempt on that which was authorized and eftablifhed. Vaughan on the other hand was a lover of order. He knew how to diftinguifh between forms and formality. He delighted to look up to the great and good of other days for direction and precedent. What others before him had found to be conducive to their fpiritual welfare, might, he thought, conduce to his. He was glad therefore to liftento their teaching, and conform to their example ; and inftrudion always came to him with additional weight and force, when backed by fuch authority. At no very diftant period Vaughan OF HENRT FAUGHAN. xxxv fent forth another little volume in profe, entitled, ff Flores Solitudinis," (Flowers of Solitude) cc certaine pieces collected by him in his fickneffe and retirement.'' There are, firft, two difcourfes, the one " of Temperance and Patience/' and the other cc of Life and Death," tranflated, in 1652, from the Latin of Nierembergius ; fecondly, cc the World Contemned," taken from Eucherius, Bifliop of Lyons ; and thirdly, cc the Life of Paulinus, Bifhop of Nola," compiled by Vaughan himfelf. Thefe are dedicated to the fame Sir Charles Egerton, to whom his Mount of Olives was infcribed, and his addrefs to him concludes in thefe words ; cc You will " look upon my fuddaine and fmall pre- cc fents as upon fome forward flowers, " whofe kinde hafte hath brought them " above ground in cold weather. The cc uncertainty of life, and a peevifh incon- cc ftant ftate of health, would not fuffer cf me to ftay for greater performances, or " a better feafon, left, lofing this, I fhould cc never again have the opportunity to cc manifeft, how much and how fincerely "lam, Sir, your Servant &c." Thefe xxxvi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH pieces, Vaughan tells us, were likewife tranflated by him during his long illnefs. They had comforted and inftrudted him under his heavy afflictions, and he pub- lished them in the hope that they might produce like effe&s on others, and enable them likewife to give up the world for God. cf To leave the world," he fays in his preface, " when it leaves us, is both fordid and forrowful : I honour that tem- per which can lay by the garland when he might keep it on ; which can pafs by a rofebud, and bid it grow, when he is invited to crop it." It is a remarkable circumftance that fome of the moft fweet and fimple profe writers in our language are to be found among thofe, whofe com- pofitions in verfe are the moft full of affectations and conceits. What a diflim- ilarity for inftance is there between Cow- ley's "Effays" and his cc Miftrefs," be- tween Donne's cc Sermons" and his cc Po- ems " ! Quarles's grotefque quaintnefs in his cc Emblems " curioufly contrafts with the fimple ftrength of his cc Judgment and Mercy " ; and we find little of the Epi- grammatic abruptnefs of the " Night OF HENRT VAUGHAN. xxxvii Thoughts " in Young's Cf Centaur not fabulous." And if Vaughan had attempt- ed any great original work in profe, it feems highly probable, from the brief fpecimens which we have of his capabili- ties, that he would have excelled in this fpecies of compofition likewife. The fub- je&s however, on which he employed his pen, appear to have had no intereft for the public at this period. Indeed, trans- lations from the Fathers were not likely at fuch a time to meet with many fympa- thizing readers. The world had been deluged by the Puritans with their weak and wafliy publications. Still their crude theology was that generally in vogue. Thofe, who had been difpofed to go up and drink at the ftream a little nearer to its fource, had pafled away with the exiled Cofins and Bramhalls of a former genera- tion. The Court party was foon to come back from France vitiated alike in tafte and principles, and ready to make a jeft of every thing religious. This then, was not a time at which treatifes, fuch as thofe now published by Henry Vaughan, were likely to become popular. They were xxxviii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH accordingly never reprinted, and their very existence is almoft: unknown to ordinary Englifh Readers. The following verfes clofe this little volume, of which the laft thirty-four lines are very ftriking. ST. PAULINUS,TO HIS WIFE, THERASIA. " Come, my true Confort in my joyes and care, Let this uncertaine and ftill wafting fhare Of our fraile life be given to God ! you fee, How the fwift dayes drive hence inceiTantlie ; And the fraile drooping world, though ftill thought gay, In fecret flow confumption weares away. All that we have pafle from us, and once paft, Returne no more. Like clouds they feeme to laft, And fo delude loofe greedy mindes. But where Are now thofe trim deceits ? To what dark fphere • Are all thofe falfe fires funk, which once fo fhined, . They captivated foules and ruled mankind ? And what, Therafia, doth it us availe, That fpatious ftreames fhall flow and never faile, That aged forrefts live to tyre the winds, And flowers each Spring returne and keepe their kinds? Thofe ftill remaine ; but all our Fathers dyed ; And we ourfelves but for few dayes abide. This ftiort tyme then was not given us in vaine, To whom tyme dyes, in which we dying gaine ; But that in tyme eternall life fhould be Our care, and endlefle reft our induftrie. And yet this taike, which the rebellious deeme Too harfh, who God's mild lawes for chaines efteem, OF HENRT VAUGHAN. xxxix Suites with the rneeke and harmlefle heart fo right, That 'tis all eafe, all comfort, and delight. " To love our God with all our ftrength and will ; To covet nothing ; to devife no ill Againft our neighbours ; to procure or doe Nothing to others which we would not to Our very felves ; not to revenge our wrong ; " To be content with little ; not to long " For wealth and greatnefle ; to deipife or jeare No man ; and, if we be defpifed, to bear : " To feed the hungry ; to hold fall our crown ; To take from others nought to give our owne." Thefe are his precepts, and alas in thefe What is fo hard but faith may doe with eafe ? He that the holy Prophets doth beleeve, And on God's words relies, (words that ftill live, And cannot dye) that in his heart hath writ His Saviour's death and triumph ; and doth yet With conftant care admitting no neglect His fecond dreadfull coming ftill expect ; To fuch a liver earthy things are dead ; With Heaven alone, and Hopes of Heaven hee's fed. He is no vaiTall unto worldly trafh, Nor that black knowledge, which pretends to wafh, But doth defile ; a knowledge by which men With ftudied care lofe Paradife again. Commands and titles, the vaine world's device, With gold, the forward feed of fin and vice, He never minds. His ay me is farre more high ; And ftoopes to nothing lower than the Ikye. Nor griefs nor pleafures breede him any pain : He nothing feares to lofe ; would nothing gaine. xl BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH Whatever hath not God he doth deteft. He lives to Chrift ; is dead to all the reft. This Holy One, fent hither from above, A Virgin brought forth, fhadowed by the Dove. A crown of Thornes His blefled head did wound, Nayles pierced His hands and feet, and He faft bound Stuck to the painfull croffe, where, hanged till dead, With a cold fpeare his heart's dear blood was fhed. All this for man, for bad ungratefull man, The true God fuffered : not that fufFering can Adde to his glory aught, who can receive AccefTe from nothing ; whom none can bereave Of his all-fulneiTe : but the bleft defigne Of His fad death was to fave me from mine. He dying bore my fins ; and the third day His early riling raifed me from the clay. To fuch great mercies what fhall I preferre, Or who from loving God fhall mee deterre ? Burne mee alive with curious fkilfull paine, Cut up and fearch each warme and breathing vein ; When all is done death brings a quick releafe, And the poore mangled body fleepes in peace. Hale mee to prifons ; fhut mee up in brafTe : My ftill free foule from thence to God fhall pafTe. Banifh or bind me ; I can be no where A ftranger or alone ; my God is there. I fear not famine. How can he be faid To Starve, who feedes upon the Living Bread ? And yet this courage fprings not from my ftore ; Chrift gave it mee, who can give much, much more. I of myfelf can nothing dare or doe ; He bids mee fight; and makes mee Conquer too. OF HENRT VAUGHAN. xli If like great Abraham I mould have command To leave my father's houfe and native land, I would with joy to unknown regions run, Bearing the banner of His blefTed Son. On worldly goods I will have no defigne ; But ufe my owne, as if mine were not mine. Wealth I'll not wonder at, nor greatnelTe feeke ; But chufe, though laughed at, to be poore and meake. In woe and wealth I'll keepe the fame flayed mind ; Grief fhall not breake me, nor joyes make me blind ! Then come, my faithfull confort, joyne with me. In this good fight, and my true helper be ! Cheer me when fad, advife me when I ilray ; Let us be each the other's guide and flay. Be your Lord's guardian. Give joynt ayde and due ; Helpe him when falne ; Rife when he helpetk you.. That fo we may not onely one flelh bee,. But in one Spirit and one will agree ! " It would be gratifying to be able to ftate that Henry Vaughan's poetry, re- plete as it is with beauty and originality, had met with a better reception than his profe. But we cannot in honefty fay that this was the cafe. That he had his ad- mirers among the difcerning few there can be no doubt. His friends at Oxford more efpecially feem to have treafured up care- fully every fcrap of verfe that fell from his pen. But with the. public at large, d. xlii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH and particularly with reference to his re- ligious poetry, it was far otherwife. It might at firft fight appear that his Silex Scintillanshadat leaft found readers enough to carry it through a fecond edition. A volume fo defignated by the Publifher was fent forth in the year 1655, containing all the poems printed in the year 1 651, to- gether with a fecond part, almoft equal in extent to the former, and the whole pre- ceded by a very interefting preface, full of juft thoughts and pious fentiments. But on clofer infpeftion it is evident that we have here only the unfold copies of the volume before published, with the preface and fecond part added to them, and a new title prefixed to the whole. All this is dis- cernible from the paging of this nominally fecond edition, and it fpeaks loudly of the negle6fc which the previous volume had ex- perienced. The poems contained in this fecond part are in no refpedt inferior to thofe before published. Indeed in fome points they prefent rather an improve- ment on them. They feem to exhibit more of Vaughan's own natural vein, and iefs of that of his excellent mafter. Pre- OF HENRT FAUGHAN. xliii ferving all the piety of George Herbert, they have lefs of his quaint and fantaftic turns, with a much larger infufion of poetic feeling and expreflion. Their merits however feem to have been but ill appre- ciated by the taftelefs and godlefs genera- tion for whom Vaughan wrote > and his little volume accordingly foon fank into oblivion. We learn from its contents that the Author was ftill a fufferer, his body ftill labouring under the protracted illnefs that had attacked him five years before, and his heart bleeding from the further lofs of beloved relatives and friends. It is fcarcely to be wondered that, under fuch difcouraging circumftances, Henry Vaughan, in the prime of life, and the full maturity of his talents, fhould have ceafed from all further Authorfhip. Accordingly during the forty years that he lived, after the fecond edition of his Silex, he gave nothing more to the public. In the year 1678 however, one of his zealous Oxford friends, J. W. (the initials have not been verified) fent forth a little volume, entitled " Thalia Rediviva, thepafltimesanddiver- fions of a Countrey Mufe," which, though xliv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH it contains no reference to Henry Vaughan in the title page, confifts entirely of his poetry, together with a few of his brother Thomas's Latin verfes appended. But in this publication Henry Vaughan took no part, though there is no reafon to fuppofe that he was adually oppofed to it. The contents are of a motley defcription, con- fifting of elegies, tranflations, addreffes to individuals, and are evidently of the moft various dates, fome of them written in his youthful days at the University, and others in his maturer years, fubfequently in all probability to the publication of the Silex Scintillans. The Volume is ufhered in by commendatory verfes from Cf the matchlefs Orinda," Mrs. Catherine Philips, Dr. Thomas Powell, and other Oxford friends and admirers, and contains nothing which the moft faftidious moralift could find fault with. At the clofe of the work is a col- lection of religious pieces, entitled 4C pious thoughts and ejaculations," the whole of which, together with a Paftoral Elegy on the death of Thomas Vaughan, we have included in the volume now published, fo that the whole of Henry Vaughan's reli- OF HENRT VAUGHAN, xlv gious poetry may ftand at once before the reader. From the time of this laft publication to that of his death we have no further information to furnifli refpe6ting our Au- thor. He appears to have ftolen away altogether from public life, to purfue his quiet walk with God, and enjoy the con- verfe of fuch friends as were ftill left to him ; and found abundant fcope for the exercife of his powers, in the labours of a ufeful profeffion, and the education of his growing family. He was twice married, and had by his firft wife five children, two fons and three daughters, and by the fecond one daughter. Of the latter alone is any- thing further known. She married John Turberville, and her granddaughter died fingle in 1780 aged 92. For himfelf he had the fatisfaition of clofing his days un- der the roof and amidft the fcenes where they had commenced. His beloved Ufk and the beautiful Vale through which it flows were daily before his eyes to the laft, and probably afforded him many a poetic ramble, when his more ferious avocations admitted of them. It would appear from xlvi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH one of his little Latin poems, that he was a fifherman, and the moral with which he accompanies a falmon of his own catching, fent as a prefent to a friend, would feem to imply that this amufement was occa- sionally purfued by him even in riper and more thoughtful years. But thefe little conjectural notices of his ordinary life and avocations muft neceflarily reft on very flender data. Much more fatisfa&ory is it to know, that he died, as he lived, in holy confcioufnefs of his own unworthinefs, and in humble dependence on the merits of his Redeemer. He departed this life, April the 23rd, in the year 1695, aged 73, and defired that the following infcriptionfhould be placed on his tomb, " Servus inutilis, Peccator maximus, Hie jaceo. Gloria ! f miferere ! " f An unprofitable fervant the chief of fin- ners I lie here. Glory be to God ! f Lord have mercy upon me ! * Such are the particulars that we have been able to gather refpedting Henry Vaughan and his works. They prefent OF HENRT FAUGH AN. xlvii a pi&ure of one who lived to God rather than to man ; and if there is little of in- cident in the details, let us remember, that it is with the lives of private individuals as with the reigns of Princes ; thofe are often the happieft and moft profperous, which make the leafl: noife and fhow in the page of Hiftory. The mind and heart of our Author are abundantly exhibited in his writings, which are full of individu- ality ; and while we would deprecate pledging ourfelves to every fentiment they contain, we feel that they claim for him unvarying refpedt, and commend them- felves to us as the genuine overflowings of a fincere and humble fpirit. We feel, while reading them, that we have to do with a truly good and earneft man. His poems difplay much originality of thought, and frequently likewife much felicity of expreflion. The former is indeed at times condenfed into obfcurity, and the latter defaced with quaintnefs. But Vaughan never degenerates into a fmooth verfi- fier of common places. One indeed of his great faults as a poet, is the attempt to crowd too much of matter into his xlviii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH fentences, fo that they read roughly and inharmonioufly, the words almoft elbow- ing each other out of the lines. His rhymes too are frequently defective, and he delights in making the fenfe of one line run over into the line following. This, when not overdone, is doubtlefs a beauty in versification, and redeems it from that monotony, which fo offends in the poets of Queen Anne's time. Yet even this may be puftied to excels, and become by its uniformity liable itfelf to the imputation of monotony. Take for inftance the very beautiful lines of Vaughan entitled "Rules and Leffons," the firft five ftanzas of which ftrikingly exemplify the fault here fpeci- fied ; and it was perhaps their confequent harfhnefs, that induced Bernard Barton to tranfpofe them, not infelicitoufly, into a different ftanza. A more favourable fpecimen of line flowing into line is the following morning addtefs to a cc Bird." Hither thou com'fl. The bufie wind all night Blew through thy lodging ; where thy own warm wing Thy pillow was : and many a fullen ftorm, For which coarfe man feems much the fitter born, Rained on thy bed, And harmlefs head ; OF HENRT VJUGHJN. xlii And now as frefh and cheerful as the light Thy little heart in early hymns doth ling ! This will be felt to be very tender and beautiful, notwithstanding the imperfed rhyme in the fourth line ; and the volume now republished is full of like paflages. Indeed it may with truth be faid of Vaughan that his faults are in a great mea- fure thofe of the age he lived in, and the mafter he imitated, while his beauties are all his own. That he will ever become a thoroughly popular poet is fcarcely to be expe&ed in this age. ~"~But among thofe who can prize poetic thought, even when clad in a drefs fomewhat quaint and anti- quated, who love to commune with a heart overflowing with religious ardour, and who do not value this the lefs, becaufe it has been lighted at the earlier and purer fires of Christianity, and has caught a portion of their youthful glow, poems like thefe of H^nry Vaughan's will not want their readers, nor will fuch readers be un- thankful to have our Author and his Works introduced to their acquaintance. H. F. L. Rome, April 1847. I The Author's Preface. ^Hat this Kingdom hath abound- ed with thofe ingenious per- fons, which in the late notion are termed Wits, is too well known. Many of them having caft away all their fair portion of time, in no better imployments, than a deliberate fearch, or excogitation of idle words, and a moft vain, infatiable defire to be reputed Poets ; leav- ing behinde them no other Monuments of thofe excellent abilities conferred upon them, but fuch as they may (with a Pre- decejfor of theirs) term Parricides, and a foul killing Iffue, for that is the BpufisTov, and Laureate Crown, which idle Poems will certainly bring to their unrelenting Authors. And well it were for them, if thofe wil- lingly ftudied and wilfully-published vani- lii THE PREFACE. ties could defile no fpirits, but their own; but the cafe is far worfe. Thefe Vipers furvive their Parents, and for many ages after (like Epidemic difeafes) infedt whole Generations, corrupting always and un- hallowing the beft-gifted Souls , and the moft capable Vejfels : for whofe fandtifi- cation and well-fare, the glorious Son of God laid down his life, and fuffered the pretious blood of his blefled and innocent heart to be poured out. In the mean time it cannot be denyed, but thefe men are had in remembrance, though we cannot fay with any comfort, 'Their memorial is blejfed ; for, that I may fpeak no more than the truth (let their paflionate wor- fhippers fay what they pleafe) all the com- mendations that can be juftly given them will amount to no more, than what Pru~ dentins the Chriftian-facred Poet bellowed upon Symmachus ; Os dignum aterno tinttum quodfulgeat auro Si mallet laudare deum : cui fordid a monftra Pratwlit, & liquidam t enter avit crimine vocem ; Haud aliter, quam cum raftris qui tentat eburnis Canofum verfare folum y &c. THE PREFACE. liii In Engliih thus, A wit moll worthy in tryed Gold to mine, Immortal Gold ! had he fung the divine Praife of his Maker : to whom he preferr'd Obfcene, vile fancies, and prophanely marr'd A rich, rare ftile with finful, lewd contents ; No otherwife, then if with Inftruments Of polifh'd Ivory, fome drudge mould flir A dirty fink, l£c. This comparifon is nothing odious, and it is as true, as it is appofite ; for a good wit in a bad fubjed, is (as Solomon faid of the fair and foolijh woman) Like a jewel of gold in a f wine's fnowt, Prov. n. 22. Nay, the more acute the Author is, there is fo much the more danger and death in the work. Where the Sun is bufie upon a dung-hill y the ijfue is always fome un- clean vermine. Divers perfons of eminent piety and learning (I meddle not with the feditious and Schifmatical) have, long be- fore my time, taken notice of this malady ; for the complaint againft vitious verfe y tvtn by peaceful and obedient fpir its, is of fome antiquity in this Kingdom. And yet, as if the evil confequence attending this in- liv THE PREFACE, veterate error were but a fmall thing, there is fprung very lately another profperous device to aflift it in the fubverfion of fouls. Thofe that want the Genius of verfe fall to tr (inflating ; and the people are every term plentifully furnifhed with various Foraign vanities ; fo that the moft lafci- vious compofitions of France and Italy are here naturalized and made Englifh : And this, as it is fadly obferved, with fo much favor and fuccefs, that nothing takes (as they rightly phrafe it) like a Romance. And very frequently, if that Charatler be not an Ivybujh the buyer receives this lewd ware from perfons of honor : who want not reafon to forbear, much private misfortune having fprung from no other feed at firft, than fome infe&ious and diflblving Legend. To continue after years of difcretion in this vanity, is an inexcufable defertion of pious fobriety : and to perfift fo to the end, is a wilful defpifing of Gods facred exhor- tations, by a conftant, fenfual volutation or wallowing in impure thoughts andfcur- rilous conceits, which both defile their Au- thors, and as many more as they are com- municated to. If every idle word /hall THE PREFACE. lv be accounted for ', and if no corrupt commu- nication Jhould proceed out of our mouths , how defperate, I befeech you, is their con- dition, who all their life time, and out of meer defign, ftudy lafcivious fictions , then carefully record and publiih them, that inftead of grace and life, they may minifter fin and death unto their readers ? It was wifely confidered, and pioufly faid by one, That he would read no idle books ; both in regard of love to his own foul, and pity un- to his that made them ; for, faid he, if I be corrupted by them, their Compofer is imme- diately a caufe of my ill ; and at the day of reckoning, though now dead, muft give an account for it, becaufe I am corrupted by his bad example, which he left behinde him. I will write none, left I hurt them that come after me ; I will read none, left I augment his punifhment that is gone before me. I will neither write, nor read, left I prove a foe to my own foul : while I live, I fin too much ; let me not continue longer in wickednefs, than I do in life. It is a fen- tence of facred authority, that he that is dead is freed from fin ; becaufe he cannot in that ft ate, which is without the body, lvi THE PREFACE. fin any more ; but he that writes idle books makes for himfelf another body, in which he always lives, and fins (after death) as fafi and as foul, as ever he did in his life ; which very consideration deferves to be a fufficient Antidote againft this evil difeafe. And here, becaufe I would prevent a juft cenfure by my free confeffion, I muft remember, that I my felf have, for many years together, languifhed of this very ficknefs ; and it is no long time fince I have recovered. But (blefled be God for it !) I have by his faving afliftance fuppreft my greateft follies, and thofe which efcaped from me, are, I think, as innoxious, as moft of that vein ufe to be; befides, they are interlined with many virtuous, and fome pious mixtures. What I fpeak of them is truth : but let no man miftake it for an extenuation of faults, as if I intended an Apology for them y or my felf, who am con- fcious of fo much guilt in both, as can never be expiated without f fecial for rows, and that cleanfing and pretious ejfufion of my Almighty Redeemer. And if the world will be fo charitable as to grant my requeft, I do here moft humbly and earneftly beg that none would read them. THE PREFACE. lvii But an idle or fenfual fubjeff is not all the poyjon in thefe Pamphlets. Certain Authors have been fo irreverendly bold, as to dafh Scriptures, and the /acred Rela- tives of God with their impious conceits ; And (which I cannot fpeak without grief of heart) fome of thofe defperate adven- turers may, I think, be reckoned amongft the principal or moft learned Writers of Englijh verfe. Others of a later date, being corrupted, it may be, by that evil Genius, which came in with the publique diftra&ions, have fluffed their books with Oathes, horrid Execrations, and a moft grofs and ftudied filthinefs. But the hurt that en- fues by the publication of pieces fo noto- rioufly ill lies heavily upon the Stationer's account, who ought in confcience to refufe them, when they are put into his hands. No lofs is fo doleful as that gain, that will endamage the foul. He, that prints lewd- nefs and impieties, is that mad-man in the Proverbs, who cafteth firebrands, ar- rows and death. The fuppreffion of this pleafing and prevailing evil, lies not altogether in the lviii THE PREFACE. power of the Magiftrate ; for it will flie abroad in Manuscripts, when it fails of entertainment at the prefs. The true remedy lies wholly in their bofoms, who are the gifted perfons, by a wife exchange of vain and vitious fubjeffs, for divine Themes and Celeftial praife. The perfor- mance is eafie, and, were it the moft difficult in the world, the reward is fo glorious, that it infinitely tranfcends it : for they that turn many to right eoufnefs Jhall fhine like the fiars for ever and ever : whence follows this undenyable inference, that the corrupting of many, being a con- trary work, the recompense muft be fo too ; and then I know nothing referved for them, but the blacknefs of darknejs for ever; from which, O God, deliver all penitent and reformed fpirits ! The firft, that with any effectual fuc- cefs attempted a diverfion of this foul and overflowing Jlream, was the blefled man, Mr. George Herbert, whofe holy life and verfe gained many pious Converts, of whom I am the leaft ; and gave the firft check to a moft flourishing and admired THE PREFACE. lix Wit of his time. After him followed di- verfe, — Sed non pafftbus that a door may be opened to him in heaven. Rev. 4. 1. and then he will be able to write, with Hierotheus and holy Herbert^ " A true Hymn'' To effeit this in fome meafure, I have begged leave to communicate this my poor talent to the Church, under the protection and conduct of her glorious Head : who, if he will vouchfafe to own it, and go along with it, can make it as ufeful now in the publick as it hath been to me in private. In the perufal of it, you will (peradventure) obferve fome paffages, whofe hiftory or reafon may feem fomething remote ; but were they brought nearer , and plainly expofed to your view, though that perhaps might quiet your THE PREFACE. lxi curiofity, yet would it not conduce much to your greater advantage. And there- fore I muft defire you to accept of them in that latitude, which is already allowed them. By the laft Poems in the book, were not that mijiake here prevented, you would judge all to be fatherlefs, and the Edition pofthume ; for indeed I was nigh unto deaths and am ftill at no great diftance from it ; which was the neceflary reafon for that folemn and accompliflied drefs, you will finde this impreffion in. But the God of the fpirits of all flefh hath granted me a further ufe of mine than I did look for in the body ; and when I expedted, and had by his afliftance pre- pared for, a mejfage of death, then did he anfwer me with life ; I hope to his glory, and my great advantage ; that I may flourifli not with leafe onely, but with fome fruit alfo ; which hope and earneft defire of his poor Creature, I humbly be- feech him to perfe<5t and fulfil for his dear Son's fake, unto Whom, with Him and the moft holy and loving Spirit, be af- cribed by Angels, by Men, and by all lxii THE PREFACE. his Works, All Glory, and Wifdom, and Dominion, in this the temporal and in the Eternal Being. Amen. Newton by UJk, near Sketh-Rock, Septem. 30, 1654. Lord, the hope of Ifrael, all they that forfake thee /ball be ajhamed ; and they that depart from thee, Jh all be written in the earth, becaufe they have for fak en the Lord, the fountain of living waters. Heal me, O Lord, and I Jhall be healed ; fave me, and I Jhall be faved, for thou art my health, and my great deliverer, I faid in the cutting off of my days, I Jhall go to the gates of the grave ; I have deprived my f elf of the refidue of my years. I faid, I Jhall not Jee the Lord, even the Lord in the Land of the living : 1 Jhall behold man no more with the Inhabitants of the world. O Lord! by thee doth man live, and from thee is the life of my fpirit : therefore wilt thou recover me, and make me to live. Thou hajl in love to my Joul delivered it from the pit of corruption ; for thou haft caft all my fins be- hind thy back. For thy name's Jake haft thou put off thine anger s for thy praife haft thou refrained from me, that I Ihould not be cut off. For the grave cannot praife thee, death cannot celebrate thee : they, that go down into the pit, can- not hope for thy truth. The living, the living, he Jh all praife thee, as 1 do this day : the Father to the children Jhall make known thy truth. Lord ; thou haft been merciful ; thou haft brought back my life from corruption : thou haft re- deemed me from my fin. They, that follow after lying vanities, forfake their own mercy. Therefore Jhall thy fongs be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life. 1 will go unto the altar of my God, unto God, the joy of my youth ; and in thy fear will I worjhip to- wards thy holy temple. I will facrifce unto thee with the voice ofthankf- giving ; I will pay that which I have vowed ; fal- v at ion is of the Lord. To my moft merciful, my moft loving, and dearly loved Redeemer, the ever blefled, the onely Holy and Just One, JESUS CHRIST, The Son of the living GOD, and the facred Virgin Mary, Y God ! thou that didft dye for me, Thefe thy death's fruits I offer thee ; Death that to me was life and light, But dark and deep pangs to thy fight. Some drops of thy all-quickning blood Fell on my heart ; thofe made it bud, And put forth thus, though Lord, before The ground was curft, and void of (lore. Indeed I had fome here to hire Which long refitted thy defire, That fton'd thy fervants, and did move To have thee murthred for thy love ; But Lord, I have expell'd them, and fo bent, Beg, thou wouldft take thy Tenant's Rent. Ixvi THE DEDICATION. II. Dear Lord, 'tis finifhed ! and now he That copyed it, prefents it thee. 'Twas thine firft, and to thee returns, From thee it mined, though here it burns ; If the Sun rife on Rocks, is't right, To call it their inherent light ? No, nor can I fay, this is mine, For, dearefl Jefus, 'tis all thine. Thy cloaths, when thou with cloaths wert clad Both light from thee, and virtue had ; And now, as then within this place, Thou to poor rags doll Hill give grace. This is the earnefl thy love fheds, The Candle ihining on fome heads, Till at thy charges they lhall be, Cloath'd all with immortality. My dear Redeemer, the world's light, And life too, and my heart's delight ! For all thy mercies and thy truth Shew'd to me in my finful youth, For my fad failings and my wilde Murmurings at thee, when moll milde ; For all my fecret faults, and each Frequent relapfe and wilful breach, For all defigns meant againfl thee, And ev'ry publifh'd vanity, Which thou divinely hall forgiven, While thy blood wafti'd me white as heaven : I nothing have to give to thee, THE DEDICATION. lxvii But this thy own gift, given to me. Refufe it not ! for now thy Token Can tell thee where a heart is broken. Revel, cap. i. ver. 5, 6, 7. Unto him that loved us> and wafhed us from our fins in his own blood. And hath made us Kings and Priefts unto God and his Father ; to him be glory and dominion, for ever and ever. Amen. Behold, he co?neth with clouds, and every eyejhall fee him, and they alfo which pierced him; and all kin- dreds of the earth Jhall wail becaufe of him : even Jo. Amen. Author is (defej Emblema. *Entafti, fat eor, fine vulnere fcepius, et me Confultum voluit Vox, fine voce, fre- quens ; Ambivit placido divinior aura meatu, E t fruftra fan ft o murmur e prtemonuit. S urdus eram, mutufque Silex : Tu, (quanta tuorum Cur a tibi eft I 'J alia das renovare via ; Permutas Cur am : Jamque irritatus Amorem Pojfe negas, et vim, N\, f up er are paras ; Accedis propior, molemque, et Saxea rumpis Peftora,fitque Caro, quod fuit ante Lapis. En lacerum ! Ccelofque tuos ardentia tandem Fragmenta, et liquidas ex Adamante genas ! Sic olim undantes Petras, Scopulofque vomentes Curdfti, populi providus ufque tui ! Quam miranda tibi manus efi ! Moriendo, revixi ; Et fractas jam j urn ditior inter opes. SILEX SCINTILLANS. PART I. Silex Scintillans, &c. Regeneration. Ward, and Hill in bonds, one day I Hole abroad ; It was high-fpring, and all the way Primrofed, and hung with fliade ; Yet was it froft within ; The furly wind Blafted my infant buds, and fmne Like Clouds ecclipfed my mind. 2. Storm'd thus ; I ftraight perceived my fpring Meere ftage and fhow, My walke a monftrous, mountain'd thing Rough-caft with Rocks and fnow ; And as a Pilgrim's Eye, Far from reliefe, Meafures the melancholy fkye, Then drops, and rains for griefe, 3- So figh'd I upwards ftill ; at laft 'Twixt Heps, and falls, I reach'd the pinacle, where plac'd 4 SILEX SCINTILLANS. I found a paire of fcales ; I took them up, and layd In th' one late paines ; The other fmoake and pleafures weigh'd, But prov'd the heavier graines. .4- , With that fome eryed, Away / flraight I Obey'd, and led Full Eaft, a faire, frefh field could fpy ; Some caird it, Jacob's Bed ; A Virgin foile, which no Rude feet ere trod ; Where, fince He ftept there, only go Prophets and friends of God. 5* Here I repos'd ; : but fcarce well fet A grove defcryed Of ftately height, whofe branches met And mixt on every fide ; I entred, and once in, Amaz'd to fee't, Found all was chang'd, and a new fpring Did all my fenfes greet. 6, The unthrift Sunne {hot vitall gold A thoufand peeces^ And heaven its azure did unfold Chequer 'd with fnowie fleeces. The aire was all in fpice, And every buih A garland wore % Thus fed my Eyes, But all the Eare lay hufh. . OR SACRED POEMS. 7- Only a little Fountain lent Some ufe for Eares, And on the dumbe ihades language fpent, The Mufick of her teares ; I drew her neere, and found The Cifterne full Of divers Hones, fome bright and round, Others ill-ihap'd and dull. 8. The firft (pray marke,) as quick as light Danc'd through the floud ; But, th' laft more heavy than the night Nail'd to the Centre flood ; I wonder'd much, but tyr'd At laft with thought, My reftlefs Eye, that ftili defir'd, As ftrange an objecl: brought. 9- It was a banke of flowers, where I defcried * (Though 'twas mid-day,) Some faft afleepe, others broad-eyed, And taking in the Ray ; Here muling long I heard A rufhing wind, Which ftill increas'd, but whence it ftirr'd, No where I could not find. 10. I turn'd me round, and to each made Difpatch'd an Eye, To fee if any leafe had made Leaft motion or Reply ; 6 SILEX SC1NTILLANS But while I liftning fought My mind to eafe By knowing, where 'twas, or where not, Itwhifper'd; Where 1 pleafe. Lord, then faid I, On me one breath 9 And let me dye before my death ! Cant. cap. 5. ver. 17. Arife, O North, and come thou Soutb-wind y and blow upon my garden, that the fpices thereof may flow out. Death, A Dialogue. Soule. Hs a fad Land, that in one day Hath dulPd thee thus, when death fhall freeze Thy bloud to Ice, and thou mull ftay Tenant for Yeares, and Centuries ; How wilt thou brook' t ? — - Body. I cannot tell ; But if all fence wings not with thee, And fomething Hill be left the dead, Fie wifh my Curtaines off, to free Me from fo darke and fad a bed ; A neft of nights, a gloomie fphere, Where lhadowes thicken, and the Cloud Sits on the Sun's brow all the yeare, And nothing moves without a fhrowd. OR SACRED POEMS. 7 Soule. 'Tis fo: But as thou faweft that night Wee travelPd in, our firft attempts Were dull and blind, but Cuftome ftraight Our fears and falls brought to contempt. Then, when the ghaftly twelve was paft, We breath'd ftill for a blufhing Eaft, And bad the lazie Sunne make hafte, And on fure hopes, though long, did feaft. But when we faw the Clouds to crack, And in thofe Cranies light appear'd, We thought the day then was not flack, And pleas'd our felves with what wee feared. Juft fo it is in death. But thou Shalt in thy mother's bofome fleepe, Whilft I each minute grone to know How neere Redemption creepes. Then fhall wee meet to mixe again, and met, 'Tis laft good-night ; our Sunne fhall never fet. Job. Cap. 10. ver. 21. 22. Before I goe whence 1 Jball not returne, even to the land of darknejfe, and the Jhadow of death ; A Land of darknejfe , as darknejfe it felfe, and of the Jhadow of death y without any order, and where the light is as darknejfe. S1LEX SCINTILLANS Refurredtiori and Immortality : HeL cap. 10. ver. 20. By that new, and living way, which he hath pre- pared for us y through the veile, which is his jiejh. Body. * Ft have I feen, when that renewing breath, That binds and loofens death, Infpir'd a quickning power through the dead Creatures abed, Some drowfie filk-worme creepe From that long fleepe, And in weake, infant hummings chime, and knell About her filent Cell, Until at laft full with the vitall Ray She wing'd away, And proud with life, and fence, Heaven's rich Expence, Efteem'd (vaine things !) of two whole Elements As meane, and fpan-extents. Shall I then thinke fuch providence will be Lefle friend to me ? Or that he can endure to be unjuft Who keeps his Covenant even with our dull. Soule. z. Poore, querulous handfull ! was't for this I taught thee all that is ? OR SACRED POEMS. 9 Unbowel'd nature lhew'd thee her recruits, And Change of fuits, And how of death we make A meere miflake ; For no thing can to Nothing fall, but flill Incorporates by fkill, And then returns, and from the wombe of things Such treafure brings, As Phenix-Wke, renew'th Both life, and youth ; For a preferving fpirit doth Hill paffe Untainted through this MafTe, Which doth refolve, produce, and ripen all That to it fall ; Nor are thofe births, which we Thus fuffering fee, Deftroy'd at all ; But when time's refllefs wave Their fubflance doth deprave, And the more noble EJfence finds his houfe Sickly and loofe, He, ever young, doth wing Unto that fpring, And fource of fpirits, where he takes his lot, Till time no more mail rot His paflive Cottage ; which (though laid afide,) Like fome fpruce Bride, •Shall one day rife, and cloath'd with mining light All pure, and bright, Re-marry to the foule, for 'tis moll plaine Thou only fal'fl to be refin'd againe. 3- Then I that here faw darkly in a glaffe But mills and ihadows pafTe, io SILEX SCINTILLJNS And, by their owne weake Shine, did fearch the And Courfe of things, [fprings Shall with Inlightned Rayes Pierce all their wayes ; And as thou faw'ft, I in a thought could goe To heav'n or Earth below To reade fome Starre, or Min'rall, and in State There often fate ; So flialt thou then with me, Both wing'd and free, Rove in that mighty and eternall light, Where no rude made, or night Shall dare approach us ; we mall there no more Watch ftars, or pore Through melancholly clouds, and fay, Would it were Day ! One everlafting Sabotb there mail runne Without SucceJJlon, and without a Sunne. Dan. cap. 12. ver. 13. But goe thou thy way untill the end be, for thou Jhalt reft, and ft and up in thy lot, at the end of the dayes. Day of Judgement, # Hen through the North a fire mall rum And rowle into the Eaft, And like a firie torrent brum And fweepe up South and Weft, — When all mail ftreame and lighten round, And with furprizing flames OR SACRED POEMS. n Both liars and Elements confound, And quite blot out their names, — When thou fhalt fpend thy facred ftore Of thunders in that heate, And low as ere they lay before Thy iix-dayes' building beate, — When like a fcrowle the heavens fhall pafTe And vaniih cleane away, And nought mull Hand of that vail fpace Which held up night and day, — When one lowd blall fhall rend the deepe, And from the wombe of earth Summon up all that are afleepe Unto a fecond birth, — When thou lhalt make the Clouds thy feate, And in the open aire The Quick and dead, both fmall and great, Mull to thy barre repaire ; O then it will be all too late To fay, What Jhall I doe ? Repentance there is out of date, And fo is mercy too. Prepare, prepare me then, O God ! And let me now begin To feele my loving father's Rod Killing the man of finne ! Give me, O give me CrolTes here, Still more afflictions lend ! 12 SILEX SGINT1LLANS That pill, though bitter, is moll deare That brings health to the end. Lord, God J I beg nor friends, nor wealth, But pray againft them both ; Three things Tde have, my foule's chief health. And one of thefe femes loath, A living FAITH, a HEAR T of flefh, The WORLD an Enemie; This laft will keepe the firfl two frefh, And bring me where I'de be. i Pet. 4. 7. The end of all things is at hand ; be ye therefore sober , and watch unto prayer* Religion. Y God, when I walke in thofe groves And leaves thy Spirit doth ftill fan, I fee in each fhade that there growes An Angell talking with a man. Under a Jumper fome houfe, Or the coole Mirth's canopie, Others beneath an Oake's green boughs, Or at fome fount aine's bubling Eye. Here Jacob dreames, and wreftles ; there Elias is by Ravens fed, Another time by th > Angell, where He brings him water with his bread. OR SACRED POEMS. 13 In Abraham' *s Tent the winged guefts (O how familiar then was heaven !) Eate, drinke, difcourfe, fit downe, and reft Until the Coole, and fhady Even. Nay thou thy felfe, my God, in fire, Whirle-winds-y and Clouds, and the foft voice, Speak'ft there fo much, that I admire We have no Conference in thefe daies. Is the truce broke? or 'caufe we have A Mediatour now with thee, Doft thou therefore old Treaties wave, And by appeales from him decree h Or is't fo, as fbme green heads fay, That now all miracles muft ceafe ? Though thou haft promis'd they mould ftay, The tokens of the Church, and peace. No, no ; Religion is a Spring, That from fome fecret, golden Mine Derives her birth,, and thence doth bring Cordials in every drop, and Wine. But in her long, and hidden Courfe, In paffing through the Earth's darke veines, Growes ftill from better unto worfe, And both her tafte and colour ftaines ; Then drilling on learnes to encreafe Falfe Eccboes and Confufed founds, And unawares doth often feize On veines of Sulphur under ground ; 14 SILEX SCINTILLANS So poifon'd breaks forth in fome Clime, And at firft fight doth many pleafe ; But drunk, is puddle or meere flime, And 'Head of Phifick, a difeafe. Juft fuch a tainted link we have, Like that Samaritan's dead well; For mull we for the Kernell crave Becaufe moll voices like the Jbell? Heale then thefe waters, Lord ; or bring thy flock, Since thefe are troubled, to the fpringing rock ; Looke downe great Mailer of the feall ; O mine, And turn once more our Water into Wine ! Cant. cap. 4. ver. 12. My fifter, my fpoufe is as a garden Inclofed, as a Spring Jbut up y and a fountain fealed. The Search. &Is now cleare day : I fee a Rofe Bud in the bright Eall, and difclofe The Pilgrim-Sun ne ; all night have I Spent in a roving Extafie To find my Saviour ; I have been As far as Betblem, and have feen His Inne and Cradle ; Being there I met the Wife- Men, alkt them where He might be found, or what llarre can Now point him out, grown up a Man ? OR SACRED POEMS. 15 To Egypt hence I fled, ran o're All her parcht bofome to Nile's fhore, Her yearly nurfe ; came back, enquir'd Amongft the DocJors, and deflr'd To fee the Temple, but was fliown A little dull, and for the Town A heap of aihes, where fome fed A fmall bright fparkle was a bed, Which would one day beneath the pole, Awake, and then refine the whole. Tyr'd here, I came to Sychar ; thence To Jacob's welly bequeathed fince Unto his fonnes, where often they In thofe calme, golden Evenings lay Watring their flocks, and having fpent Thofe white dayes, drove home to the Tent Their well-fleeced traine ; And here (O fate !) I fit, where once my Saviour fate. The angry Spring in bubbles fwell'd, Which broke in fighes ftill, as they fill'd > And whifper'd, J ejus had been there, But Jacob's children would not heare. Loath hence to part, at laft I rife But with the fountain in mine Eyes, And here a frefh fearch is decreed ; He muft be found where he did bleed. I walke the garden, and there fee I da as of his Agonie, And moving anguifhments, that fet His bleft face in a bloudy fweat ; I climbed the Hill, perus'd the Croffe, Hung with my gaine, and his great loiTe : Never did tree beare fruit like this, Balfam of foules, the bodye's bliffe. i6 SILEX SCINTILLANS But, O his grave ! where I faw lent (For he had none,) a Monument, An undefil'd, a new-hew'd one, But there was not the Comer-ftone. Sure then, faid I, my Queft is vaine, Hee'le not be found where he was flaine ; So mild a Lamb can never be 'Midft fo much bloud and Crueltie. Fie to the wildernefs, and can Find beafts more mercifull than man ; He livM there fafe, 'twas his retreat From the fierce Jew, and Herod's heat ; And forty dayes withflood the fell, And high temptations of hell ; With Seraphins there talked he, His father's flaming miniftrie ; He heav'nd their walks, and with his eyes Made thofe wild fhades a Paradife. Thus was- the defert fan&ified To be the refuge of his bride. Fie thither then ; fee, It is day ! The Sun's broke through to guide my way. But as I urg'd thus, and writ down What pleafures mould my Journey crown. What filent paths, what fhades, and Cells, Faire, virgin-flowers, and hallow'd Wells I fhould rove in, and reft my head Where my deare Lord did often tread, Sugring all dangers with fuccefle, Methought I heard one finging thus ; Leave, leave thy gadding thoughts; Who pores OR SACRED POEMS. 17 and fpies Still out of Doores, defcries Within them nought. 2. The fkinne and fhell of things. Though faire, are not Thy wifh, nor Pray'r, but got By meere Defpaire of wings. 3- To rack old Elements, Or Dull; and fay, Sure here he muft needs flay, Is not the way, nor Juil. Search well another world ; who fludies this, Travels in Clouds, feekes Manna where none is. A&s Cap. 17. ve. 27, 28. That they Jbould feeke the Lord, if happily they might feele after him, and find him, though he be not far off from every one of us, for in him we live, and move, and have our being. 18 SILEX SCINTILLANS Ifaac's Marriage. Gen. cap. 24. vet*. 63. And Ifaac went out to pray in the field at the Even-tide, and he lift up his eyes, and Jaw, and be- hold, the Camels were comming. ? Raying ! and to be married ! It was rare, But now 'tis monftrous ; and that pious care, Though of ourfelves, is fo much out of That to renew't were to degenerate. [date, But thou a Chofen facrifice wert given, And offer'd up fo early unto heaven, Thy flames could not be out ; Religion was Ray'd into thee like beames into a glafle, Where, as thou grewft, it multiply'd, and fhin'd The facred Conftellation of thy mind. But being for a bride, fure, prayer was Very ftrange fluffe wherewith to court thy lafTe ; Had'ft ne'r an oath, nor Complement ? thou wert An odde, coarfe futor; Hadft thou but the art Of thefe our dayes, thou couldft have coyn'd thee twenty New fev'rall oathes, and Complements too plenty. O fad, and wild excefTe ! and happy thofe White dayes, that durft no impious mirth expofe ! When finne, by finning oft, had not loft fence, Nor bold-fac'd cuftome banifh'd Innocence ! Thou hadft no pompous traine, nor An tick crowd Of young, gay fwearers, with their needlefs, lowd OR SACRED POEMS. 19 Retinue ; All was here fmooth as thy bride, And calme like her, or that mild Evening-tide. Yet hadft thou nobler guefts : Angels did wind, And rove about thee, guardians of thy mind ; Thefe fetch' d thee home thy bride, and all the way. Advis'd thy fervant what to doe and fay ; Thefe taught him at the Well, and thither brought The Chafte and lovely object of thy thought. But here was ne'r a Complement, not one Spruce, fupple cringe, or ftudy'd looke put on. All was plaine, modeft truth : Nor did fhe come In rowles and Curies, mincing and {lately dumbe ; But in a frighted, virgin-blufh approach'd Frefh as the morning, when 'tis newly Coach'd. O fweet, divine fimplicity ! O grace Beyond a Curled lock, or painted face ! A Pitcher too fhe had, nor thought it much To carry that, which fome would fcorn to touch ; With which in mild, chafte language fhe did wooe To draw him drinke, and for his Camels too. And now thou knewft her comming, It was time To get thee wings on, and devoutly climbe Unto thy God ; for Marriage of all ftates Makes moft unhappy, or moft fortunates. This brought thee forth, where now thou didft un- dreffe Thy foule, and with new pinions refrefh Her wearied wings, which fo reftor'd did flye Above the ftars, a track unknown and high ; And in her piercing flight perfum'd the ayre, Scatt'ring the Myrrhe and Incenfe of thy pray'r. So from *Lahai-rois Well fome fpicie cloud, * A wet in the South Country ivhere Jacob divelt, betvoeene Cadefh, &f Bered 5 Heb. the ivel of him that liveth and Jeeth me. 20 SILEX SCINTILLANS Woo'd by the Sun, fwels up to be his fhrowd, And from her moift wombe weeps a fragrant fhowre, Which, fcatter'd in a thoufand pearls, each flowre And herb partakes ; where having flood awhile And fomething coold the parch'd and thirftie Ifle, The thankfull Earth unlocks her felfe, and blends A thoufand odours, which, all mixt, fhe fends Up in one cloud, and fo returnes the Ikies That dew they lent, a breathing facrifice. Thus foar'd thy foul, who, though young, didft in- herit Together with his bloud thy father's fpirit, Whofe adtive zeale and tryed faith were to thee Familiar ever fince thy Infancie. Others were tym'd and train'd up to't, but thou Didft thy fwift years in piety out-grow. Age made them rev'rend, and a fnowie head, But thou wert fo, e're time his fnow could fhed. Then, who would truly limne thee out, muft paint Firft a young Patriarch, then a marry d Saint. The Brittifh Church. iK ! he is fled ! And while thefe here their mifts and jhadowes hatch, My glorious Head Doth on thofe hills of Myrrhe and Incenfe watch. Hafte, hafte, my deare ! The Souldiers here Caft in their lotts againe. That feamlefs coat, OR SACRED POEMS. 21 The Iewes touch'd not, Thefe dare divide and flaine* O get thee wings ! Or if as yet, untill thefe clouds depart* And the day fprings, Thou think'ft it good to tarry where thou art, Write in thy bookes My ravifh'd looks. Slain flock and pillag'd fleeces, And hafte thee fo As a young Roe Upon the mounts of fpices. Rofa Camp if O lilium Gonv allium ! quomodb nunc facia es pabulum Aprorum! The Lampe. *Is dead night round about : Horrour doth creepe And move on with the fliades ; ftars nod and fleepe, And through the dark aire fpin a firie thread, Such as doth gild the lazie glow-worm's bed. Yet burn'ft thou here a full day, while I fpend My reft in Cares, and to the dark world lend Thefe flames, as thou doll thine to me ; I watch That houre, which mull thy life and mine difpatch. But Hill thou doeft out-goe me, I can fee Met in thy flames all adls of piety ; 22 SILEX SCINTILLJNS Thy light, is Charity / Thy heat, is Zeale ; And thy afpiring, active fires reveale Devotion Hill on wing ; Then, thou doll weepe Still as thou burn'ft, and the warme droppings creepe To meafure out thy length, as if thou'dft know What Hock, and how much time were left thee now ; Nor doft thou fpend one teare in vain, for Hill As thou dhTolv'fr. to them, and they diftill, They're ftor'd up in the focket, where they lye, When all is fpent, thy laft and fure fupply : And fuch is true repentance ; ev'ry breath Wee fpend in flghes is treafure after death. Only one point efcapes thee ; That thy Oile Is ftill out with thy flame, and fo both faile ; But whenfoe're I'm out, both fhal be in, And where thou mad'ft an end, there Pie begin. Mark Cap. 13. ver. 35. Watch you therefore, for you know not when the mafter of the houfe cometh, at Even, or at mid-night, or at the Cock-crowing, or in the morning. Mans fall, and Recovery. \ Arewell, you Everlafting hills ! I'm Caft Here under Clouds, where ftormes and tempefts blaft This fully'd flowre, Rob'd of your Calme, nor can I ever make, Tranfplanted thus, one leafe of his t'awake ; But ev'ry houre He fleepes and droops ; and in this drowfle ftate OR SACRED POEMS. 23 Leaves me a Have to paflions and my fate. Befides I've loft A traine of lights, which in thofe Sun-fhine dayes Were my fure guides, and only with me ftayes, Unto my coft, One fullen beame, whofe charge is to difpenfe More punifhment than knowledge to my fenfe. Two thoufand yeares I fojourn'd thus. At laft Jejhururts King Thofe famous tables did from Sinai bring. Thefe fwell'd my feares, Guilts, trefpafTes, and all this Inward Awe ; For fmne tooke ftrength, and vigour from the Law. Yet have I found A plenteous way, (thanks to that Holy One !) To cancell all that e're was writ in ftone. His faving wound Wept bloud, that broke this Adamant, and gave To iinners Confidence, life to the grave. This makes me fpan My fathers' journeys, and in one faire ftep O're all their pilgrimage and labours leap. For God, made man, Reduc'd th' Extent of works of faith ; fo made Of their Red Sea a Spring ; I warn, they wade. Rom. Cap. 18. ver. 19. As by the offence of one y the fault came on all men to condemnation ; So by the Right eoufnefs of one, the benefit abounded towards all men to the J unification of life. 24 SILEX SCINTILLANS The Showre, ^Was fo ; I faw thy birth. That drowfie Lake From her faint bofome breath'd thee, the difeafe Of her fick waters, and Infe&ious Eafe. But now at Even, Too groffe for heaven, Thou falPft in teares, and weep'fl: for thy miftake. Ah ! it is fo with me ; oft have I preft Heaven with a lazie breath ; but fruitles this Peirc'd not ; Love only can with quick acceile Unlock the way, When all elfe ftray, The fmoke and Exhalations of the breft. 3- Yet if, as thou doeft melt, and with thy traine Of drops make foft the Earth, my eyes could weep O're my hard heart, that's bound up and afleep ; Perhaps at laft, Some fuch fhowres paft, My God would give a Sun-fhine after raine. OR SACRED POEMS. 25 Diftra&ion. Knit me, that am crumbled duft ! the heape Is all difpers'd and cheape ; Give for a handfull but a thought, And it is bought. Hadft thou Made me a ftarre, a pearle, or a rain-bow, The beames I then had mot My light had lefTend not ; But now I find my felfe the lefle the more I grow. The world Is full of voices ; Man is call'd, and hurl'd By each ; he anfwers all, Knows ev'ry note and call ; Hence "ftill Frefh dotage tempts, or old ufurps his will. Yet hadft thou dipt my wings, when Cofftn'd in This quicken'd marie of finne, And faved that light, which freely thou Didft then bellow, I feare I mould have fpurn'd, and faid thou didft forbeare, Or that thy ftore was lefTe. But now fince thou didft blefle So much, I grieve, my God ! that thou haft made me fuch. I grieve ? O, yes ! thou know'ft I doe ; Come, and releive, 26 SILEX SCINTILLANS And tame, and keepe downe with thy light, Dull that would rife and dimme my fight ! Left left alone too long Amidft the noife and throng, OpprefTed I, Striving to fave the whole, by parcells dye. The Purfuite. \ Ord ! what a bufie, reftlefs thing Haft thou made man ! Each day and houre he is on wing, Refts not a fpan. Then having loft the Sunne and light, By clouds furpriz'd, He keepes a Commerce in the night With aire difguis'd. Hadft thou given to this active dull A ftate untir'd, The loft Sonne had not left the hufke, Nor home dehYd. That was thy fecret, and it is Thy mercy too ; For when all failes to bring to bliiTe, Then this muft doe. Ah ! Lord ! and what a Purchafe will that be, To take us iick, that found would not take thee ! OR SACRED POEMS. 27 Mount of Olives. f Weete, facred hill ! on whofe fair brow My Saviour fate, fhall I allow Language to love And Idolize fome fhade or grove, Neglecting thee ? fuch ill-plac'd wit, Conceit, or call it what you pleafe, Is the braine's fit, And meere difeafe. 2. Cotfwold, and Cooper's both have met With learned fwaines, and Eccho yet Their pipes, and wit ; But thou fleep'ft in a deepe neglect, Untouch' d by any; And what need The iheep bleat thee a filly Lay, That heard'ft both reed And fheepward play ? 3- Yet if Poets mind thee well, They fhall find thou art their hill, And fountaine too. Their Lord with thee had mod to doe. He wept once, waked whole nights on thee : And from thence (his fufFerings ended,) Unto glorie Was attended. 28 SILEX SCINT1LLJNS 4- Being there, this fpacious ball Is but his narrow footftoole all ; And what we thinke Unfearchable, now with one winke He doth comprife. But in this aire When he did ftay to beare our 111 And finne, this Hill Was then his Chaire. The Incarnation, and Paffion. Ord ! when thou didft thyfelfe undreffe, Laying by thy robes of glory, To make us more thou wouldft be lefTe, And becam'ft a wofull flory. To put on Clouds inftead of light, And cloath the morning-ftarre with dull, Was a tranflation of fuch height As, but in thee, was ne'r expreft. Brave wormes and Earth! that thus could have A God Enclos'd within your Cell, Your maker pent up in a grave, Life lockt in death, heav'n in a fhell ! Ah, my deare Lord ! what couldft thou fpye In this impure, rebellious clay, That made thee thus refolve to dye For thofe that kill thee every day ? OR SACRED POEMS. O what ftrange wonders could thee move To flight thy precious bloud, and breath ? Sure it was Love, my Lord ; for Love Is only ftronger far than death ! The Call. J Ome, my heart ! come, my head, In fighes, and teares ! 'Tis now, fince you have laine thus dead, Some twenty years. Awake, awake, Some pitty take Upon your felves ! Who never wake to grone nor weepe, Shall be fentenc'd for their fleepe. Doe but fee your fad ellate, How many fands Have left us, while we careles fate With folded hands ; What Hock of nights, Of dayes, and yeares In iilent flights Stole by our eares ; How ill have we our felves beftow'd, Whofe funs are all fet in a Cloud ! 3; Yet, come, and let's perufe them all ; And as we paife, 30 SILEX SCINTILLANS What fins on every minute fall Score on the glaffe ; Then weigh and rate Their heavy State, Untill The glafle with teares you fill ; That done, we fhall be fafe and good, Thofe beafts were cleane that chew'd the Cud. f ?Hou that know'ft for whom I mourne, And why thefe teares appeare, That keep'ft account till the returne Of all his duft left here ; As eafily thou mightft prevent, As now produce, thefe teares, And adde unto that day he went A faire fupply of yeares. But 'twas my fmne that forcM thy hand To cull this Prim-rofe out 9 That by thy early choice forewarn'd My foule might looke about. O what a vanity is man ! How like the Eye's quick winke His Cottage failes, whofe narrow fpan Begins even at the brink ! Nine months thy hands are fafhioning us, And many yeares alas ! E're we can lifp, or ought difcufle Concerning thee, mull paffe ; Yet have I knowne thy flighteft things, A feather y or ajhell, OR SACRED POEMS. 31 A flick, or Rod, which fome Chance brings, The beft of us excell. Yea, I have knowne thefe fhreds out laft A faire-compacled frame, And for one Twenty we have pall Almoft outlive our name. Thus haft thou plac'd in man's outfide Death to the Common Eye, That heaven within him might abide, And clofe eternitie. Hence youth and folly, man's firft fhame, Are put unto the Slaughter, And ferious thoughts begin to tame The wife-man's madnefs, Laughter. Dull, wretched wormes ! that would not keepe Within our firft faire bed, But out of Paradife muft creepe For ev'ry foote to tread ! Yet had our Pilgrimage bin free, And fmooth without a thorne, Pleafures had foil'd Eternitie, And tares had choakt the Come. Thus by the CrofTe Salvation runnes ; Affliction is a mother, Whofe painfull throes yield many fons, Each fairer than the other. A filent teare can peirce thy throne, When lowd Joyes want a wing ; And fweeter aires ftreame from a grone, Than any arted ftring. Thus, Lord, I fee my gaine is great, My loiTe but little to it ; Yet fomething more I muft intreate, And only thou canft doe it. 32 SILEX SCINTILLANS O let me, like him, know my End, And be as glad to find it ! And whatfoe'r thou malt Commend, Still let thy fervant mind it ! Then make my foule white as his owne, My faith as pure and fteddy, And deck me, Lord, with the fame Crowne That has crownd him already ! Vanity of Spirit. Uite fpent with thoughts I left my Cell, and lay \ Where a fhrill fpring tun'd to the early day. • I beg'd here long, and gron'd to know Who gave the Clouds fo brave a bow, Who bent the fpheres, and circled in Corruption with this glorious Ring ; What is his name, and how I might Defcry fome part of his great light. I fummon'd nature ; peirc'd through all her ftore ; Broke up fome feales ,which none had touch'd before ; Her wombe, her bofome, and her head, Where all her fecrets lay a bed, I rifled quite, and having paft Through all the Creatures, came at laft To fearch myfelfe, where I did find Traces, and founds of a flrange kind. Here of this mighty fpring I found fome drills, With Ecchoes beaten from th' eternall hills. Weake beames and fires flafh'd to my fight, OR SACRED POEMS. 33 Like a young Earl, or Moone-fhine night, Wich fhew'd me in a nook caft by A peece of much antiquity, With Hyerogliphicks quite difmembred, And broken letters fcarce remembred. I tooke them up, and, much Joy'd, went about T' unite thofe peeces, hoping to find out The myftery ; but this near done, That little light I had was gone. It griev'd me much. At laft, faid I, Since in tbefe veyls my Ecclips'd Eye May not approach thee, (for at night Who can have commerce with the light ?) Pie difapparell, and to buy But one half glaunce moft gladly dye. The Retreate. |Appy thofe early dayes, when I Shin'd in my Angell-infancy ! Before I underftood this place Appointed for my fecond race, Or taught my foul to fancy ought But a white, Celeftiall thought; When yet I had not walkt above A mile or two from my firft love, And looking back, at that fhort fpace, Could fee a glimpfe of his bright-face ; When on fome gilded Cloud or flow re My gazing foul would dwell an houre* And in thofe weaker glories fpy D 34 SILEX SCINTILLANS Some fhadows of eternity ; Before I taught my tongue to wound My Confcience with a finfull found, Or had the black art to difpence A fev'rall linne to ev'ry fence, But felt through all this flefhly drefTe Bright Jhootes of everlaftingneffe. O how I long to travell back, And tread again that ancient track ! That I might once more reach that plaine, Where firft I left my glorious traine ; From whence th' Inlightned fpirit fees That fhady City of Palme trees. But ah ! my foul with too much ftay Is drunk, and flaggers in the way ! Some men a forward motion love, But I by backward fteps would move ; And when this dull falls to the urn, In that ftate I came return. Ome, come ! what doe I here ? Since he is gone Each day is grown a dozen year, And each houre one. Come, come ! Cut off the fum By thefe foil'd tears ! (Which only thou Know'ft to be true,) Dayes are my feares. OR SACRED POEMS. 35 2. There's not a wind can ftir, Or beam pafle by, But flrait I think, though far. Thy hand is nigh. Come, come ! Strike thefe lips dumb : This reftlefs breath, That foiles thy name, Will ne'r be tame Untill in death. 3- Perhaps fome think a tombe No houfe of ftore, But a dark, feal'd up wombe, Which ne'r breeds more. Come, come ! Such thoughts benum. But I would be With him I weep A-bed, and fleep To wake in thee. f Midnight. Hen to my Eyes, Whilft deep fleep others catches, Thine hoft of fpyes, The ftarres, fhine in their watches, I doe furvey Each bufie Ray, 36 SILEX SCINTILLANS And how they work and wind, And wifh each beame My foul doth ftream With the like ardour fhin'd. What Emanations, Quick vibrations, And bright ftirs are there ! What thin Ejections, Cold Affections, And flow motions here ! z. Thy heav'ns, fome fay, Are a fine-liquid light, Which mingling aye Streames and flames thus to the fight. Come then, my God ! Shine on this bloud And water in one beame; And thou flialt fee Kindled by thee Both liquors burne and ftreame. O what bright quicknefs, Active brightnefs, And celeftiall flowes, Will follow after On that water, Which thy Spirit blowes ! Math. Cap. 3. ver. xi. / indeed baptize you with water unto repentance, but he that commeth after me, is mightier than I ; whofe Jhooes I am not worthy to be are ; he Jhall baptize you with the holy Ghoft, and with fire. OR SACRED POEMS. 37 ^[ Content, Eace, peace ! I know 'twas brave ; But this coarfe fleece, I fhelter in, is flave To no fuch peece. When I am gone, I mail no wardrobes leave To friend or fonne, But what their own homes weave. , Such, though not proud nor full, May make them weep, And mourn to fee the wooll Outlaft the iheep ; Poore, Pious weare ! Hadft thou bin rich, or fine, Perhaps that teare Had mourn'd thy loffe, not mine. 3- Why then thefe curl'd, puffed points, Or a laced ftory ? Death fets all out of Joint, And fcornes their glory. Some Love a Rofe In hand, fome in the fkin ; But, crofle to thofe, I would have mine within. 38 SILEX SCINTILLANS f Oy of my life while left me here ! And frill my Love ! How in thy abfence thou doft fteere Me from above ! A life well lead * This truth commends, With quick or dead It never ends. 2. Stars are of mighty ufe : The night Is dark, and long ; The Rode foul ; and where one goes right, Six may go wrong. One twinkling ray, Shot o'er fome cloud, May clear much way, And guide a croud. 3- Gods Saints are mining lights : who flays Here long mull pafle O're dark hills, fwift flreames, and fteep ways As fmooth as glaffe ; But thefe all night, Like Candles, fhed Their beams, and light Us into Bed. 4- They are indeed our Pillar-fires, Seen as we go ; OR SACRED POEMS. 39 They are that Citie's fhining fpires We travel 1 to. A fwordlike gleame Kept man from fin Firil Out ; This beame Will guide him In. The Storm. See the ufe : and know my bloud Is not a Sea, But a mallow, bounded floud, Though red as he ; Yet have I flows as flrong as his, And boyling flremes that rave With the fame curling force and hhTe, As doth the mountained wave. 2. But when his waters billow thus, Dark florins and wind Incite them to that fierce difcufle, Elfe not Inclin'd. Thus the Enlarg'd, inraged air Uncalmes thefe to a floud ; But ftill the weather that's moil fair Breeds tempeils in my bloud. 3- Lord, round me then with weeping Clouds, And let my mind In quick blafls figh beneath thofe flirouds, A fpirit-wind ; 4 o SILEX SCINTILLANS So fhall that ftorme purge this Reclufe Which iinfull eafe made foul, And wind and water to thy ufe Both wajhy and wing my foul. The Morning- watch. Joyes ! Infinite fweetnefs ! with what flowres And lhoots of glory my foul breakes and buds ! All the long houres Of night arid Reft, Through the ftill fhrouds Of fleep and Clouds, This Dew fell on my Breaft ; O how it Blonds, And Spirits all my Earth ! heark ! In what Rings, And Hymning Circulations the quick world Awakes and lings ! The rifing winds, And falling fprings, Birds, beafts, all things Adore him in their kinds. Thus all is hurl'd In facred Hy nines and Order, the great Chime And Symphony of nature. Prayer is The world in tune, A fpirit-voyce, And vocall joyes, Whofe Eccho is heav'ns blhTe. O let me climbe OR SACRED POEMS. 41 When I lye down ! The Pious foul by night Is like a clouded ilarre, whofe beames, though faid To fhed their light Under fome Cloud, Yet are above, And fhine and move Beyond that miflie flirowd. So in my Bed, That Curtain'd grave, though fleep, like afhes, hide My lamp and life, both fhall in thee abide. The Evening-watch. A Dialogue. Body, Arewell ! I goe to fleep ; but when The day- liar fp rings, Fie wake agen. Soul. Goe, fleep in peace ; and when thou lyefl Unnumber'd in thy dull, when all this frame Is but one dramme, and what thou now defcrieft In fev'rall parts fhall want a name, Then may his peace be with thee, and each dull Writ in his book, who ne'r betray'd man's trull ! Body. Amen ! but hark, eer we two flray, How many hours doll think 'till day ? Soul. Ah ! go ; thou'rt weak, and fleepie. Heav'n 42 SILEX SCINTILLANS Is a plain watch, and without figures winds All ages up ; who drew this Circle, even He, ills it ; Dayes and hours are Blinds. Yet this take with thee ; The laft gafp of time Is thy firft breath, and man's eternall Prime. f Hence and ftealth of dayes ! 'tis now, Since thou art gone, Twelve hundred houres, and not a brow But Clouds hang on. As he that in fome Cave's thick damp, Lockt from the light, Fixeth a folitary lamp, To brave the night, And walking from his Sun, when paft That glim'ring Ray, Cuts through the heavy mills in hafte Back to his day ; So o'er fled minutes I retreat Unto that hour, Which ihew'd thee laft, but did defeat Thy light and pow'r. I fearch, and rack my foul to fee Thofe beams again ; But nothing but the muff to me Appeareth plain. That, dark and dead, flee}, s in its known, And common urn • But thofe, fled to their Maker's throne, There fhine and burn. O could I track them ! but fouls muft OR SACRED POEMS. 43 Track one the other ; And now the fpirit, not the duft, Muft be thy brother. Yet I have one Pearle, by whofe light All things I fee ; And in the heart of Earth and night Find Heaven, and thee. Church-Service. Left be the God of Harmony and Love ! The God above ! And holy Dove ! Whofe Interceding, fpirituall grones Make reftlefs mones For duft and ftones ; For duft in every part, But a hard, ftonie heart. Q how in this thy Quire of Souls I ftand, Propt by thy hand, A heap of fand ! Which bulie thoughts, like winds, would fcatter quite, And put to flight, But for thy might ; Thy hand alone doth tame Thofe blafts, and knit my frame ; 3- So that both ftones and duft, and all of me Joyntly agree To cry to thee ; 44 SILEX SCINTILLANS And in this Mufick, by thy Martyrs* bloud Seal'd and made good, Prefent, O God, The Eccho of thefe ftones, My fighes, and grones ! Buriall. Thou ! the firft fruits of the dead, And their dark bed, When I am caft into that deep And fenfelefs fleep, The wages of my finne, O then, Thou great Preferver of all men, Watch o're that loofe And empty houfe, Which I fometimes liv'd in ! 2. It is in truth a ruin'd peece, Not worth thy Eyes ; And fcarce a room, but wind and rain Beat through and ftain The feats, and Cells within ; Yet thou Led by thy Love wouldfl Hoop thus low, And in this Cott, All filth and fpott, Didfl with thy fervant Inne. OR SACRED POEMS. 45 3- And nothing can, I hourely fee, Drive thee from me. Thou art the fame, faithfull and juft, In life or Duft. Though then thus crumm'd I ftray In blafts, Or Exhalations, and wafts, Beyond all Eyes Yet thy love fpies That Change, and knows thy Clay. 4- The world's thy boxe : how then, there toft, Can I be loft? But the delay is all ; Tyme now Is old and flow ; His wings are dull and iickly. Yet he Thy fervant is, and waits on thee. Cutt then the fumme, Lord, hafte, Lord, come, O come, Lord Jefus, quickly ! Rom. Cap. 8. ver. 23. And not only they, but our f elves alfo, which have the fir ft fruits of the fpirit, even wee our f elves gr one within our felves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body. 46 SILEX SCINTILLANS Chearfulnefs. Ord, with what courage and delight I doe each thing, When thy leaft breath fuftaines my wing ! I fhine and move Like thofe above, And, with much gladnefle Quitting fadneffe, Make me faire dayes of every night. 2. Affliction thus meere pleafure is ; And hap what will, If thou be in't, 'tis welcome ftill. But fince thy rayes In Sunnie dayes Thou doll thus lend, And freely fpend, Ah ! what mall I return for this ? 3- O that I were all Soul ! that thou Wouldft make each part Of this poor finfull frame pure heart ! Then would I drown My fingle one ; And to thy praife A Concert raife Of Hallelujahs here below. OR SJCRED POEMS. 47 f |Ure, there's a tye of Bodyes ! and as they DifTolve with it to Clay, Love languifheth, and memory doth ruft O'r-caft with that cold duft ; For things thus Centered, without Beames or Aclion, Nor give, nor take C on t a Si ion y And man is fuch a Marygold, thefe fled, That fhuts, and hangs the head. Abfents within the Line Confpire, and Senfe Things diflant doth unite ; Herbs fleep unto the Eajl, and fome fowles thence Watch the Returns of light. But hearts are not fo kind : falfe, fhort delights Tell us the world is brave, And wrap us in Imaginary flights Wide of a faithfull grave. 3. Thus Lazarus was carried out of town ; For 'tis our foe's chief art By diftance all good objeds firfb to drown, And then befiege the heart. But I will be my own Death's-head; and though The flatt'rer fay, / live, Becaufe Incertainties we cannot know, Be fure not to believe. 48 SILEX SCINTILLANS Peace. Y Soul, there is a Countrie Afar beyond the ftars. Where Hands a winged Sentrie All ikilfull in the wars. There, above noife and danger, Sweet peace fits crown'd with fmiles, And one born in a Manger Commands the Beauteous files. He is thy gracious friend And (O my Soul awake !) Did in pure love defcend, To die here for thy fake. If thou canft get but thither, There growes the flowre of peace, The Rofe that cannot wither, Thy fortrefle, and thy eafe. Leave then thy foolifh ranges ; For none can thee fecure, But One, who never changes, Thy God, thy Life, thy Cure. The Paffion. My chief good ! My dear, dear God ! When thy bleft bloud Did iflue forth forc'd by the Rod* i OR SACRED POEMS. 49 What pain didft thou Feel in each blow ! How didft thou weep, And thy felf fteep In thy own precious, faving teares ! What cruell fmart Did teare thy heart ! How didft thou grone it In the fpirit, O thou, whom my foul Loves, and feares ! Moft bleiTed Vine ! Whofe juice fo good I feel as Wine, But thy faire branches felt as bloud, How wert thou preft To be my feaft ! In what deep anguifh Didft thou languifh ! What fprings of Sweat and bloud did drown thee ! How in one path Did the full wrath Of thy great Father Crowd and gather, Doubling thy griefs, when none would own thee ! 3- How did the weight Of all our iinnes, And death unite To wrench and Rack thy bleiTed limbes ! How pale> and bloudie Lookt thy Body ! 50 SILEX SCINTILLANS How bruis'd, and broke With every ftroke ! How meek, and patient was thy fpirit ! How didft thou cry, And grone on high Father forgive, And let them live ! I dye to make my foes inherit ! 4- bleffed Lamb ! That took'ft my finne, That took'ft my fhame, How fhall thy dull thy praifes fmg ? 1 would I were One hearty teare ! One conftant fpring ! Then would I bring Thee two fmall mites, and be at ftrife Which mould molt vie, My heart, or eye, Teaching my years In fmiles and tears To weep, to fmg, thy Death, my Life. Rom. Cap. 8. ver. 19. Etenim res Create exerto Capite obferv antes ex- pectant revelationem Filiorum Dei. Nd do they fo I have they a Senfe Of ought but Influence ? Can they their heads lift, and expect, And grone too ? why th' Eled, OR SACRED POEMS. 51 Can do no more : my volumes faid They were all dull, and dead ; They judg'd them fenflefTe, and their Mate Wholly inanimate. Go, go ; Seal up thy looks, And burn thy books ! I would I were a Hone, or tree, Or flowre by pedigree, Or fome poor high-way herb, or Spring To flow, or bird to fing ! Then lhould I, tyed to one fure Hate, All day expect my date. But I am fadly loofe, and ftray A giddy blail each way ; O let me not thus range ! Thou canft not change. 3- Sometimes I fit with thee, and tarry An hour or fo, then vary. Thy other Creatures in this Scene Thee only aym and mean ; Some rife to feek thee, and with heads Erect peep from their beds ; Others, whofe birth is in the tomb, , And cannot quit the womb, Sigh there, and grone for thee, Their liberty. O let not me do lefTe ! fhall they Watch, while I fleep or play ? 52 SILEX SCINTILLANS Shall I thy mercies ftill abufe With fancies, friends, or newes ? O brook it not I thy bloud is mine, And my foul mould be thine ; O brook it not ! why wilt thou Hop After whole ihowres one drop ? Sure, thou wilt joy to fee Thy fheep with thee. The Relapfe. Y God, how gracious art thou ! I had flipt Almoft to hell, And on the verge of that dark, dreadful pit Did hear them yell ; But O thy love ! thy rich, almighty love, That favM my foul, And checkt their furie, when I faw them move, And heard them howl ! my foule Comfort, take no more thefe wayes This hideous path, And I will mend my own without delayes, Ceafe thou thy wrath ! . 1 have deferv'd a thick, Egyptian damp, Dark as my deeds, Should mift within me, and put out that lamp Thy fpirit feeds ; A darting Confcience full of ftabs and fears ; No made but Yewgh, Sullen and fad Ecclipfes, Cloudie fpheres, Theie are my due. OR SACRED POEMS. 53 But he that with his bloud, (a price too deere,) My fcores did pay, Bid me, by vertue from him, chalenge here The brighter!: day ; Sweet, downie thoughts, Toft ZZ/y-fhades, Calm Joyes full and true, [ftreams, Frefh, lpicie mornings, and eternal beams, — Thefe are his due ! The Refolve. Have confider'd it ; and find A longer Hay Is but excus'd neglect. To mind One path, and ftray Into another, or to none, Cannot be love ; When fhall that traveller come home, That will not move ? If thou would 'ft thither, linger not, Catch at the place ; Tell youth and beauty they muft rot, They're but a Cafe ; Loofe, parceird hearts will freeze : The Sun With fcatter'd locks Scarce warms, but by contraction Can heat the rocks. Call in thy Powers ; run on, and reach Home with the light ; Be there, before the fhadows ftretch, And Span up night. Follow the Cry no more : there is 54 SILEX SCINTILLANS An ancient way- All ftrewed with flowres and happinefs, And frefh as May ; There turn, and turn no more ; Let wits, Smile at fair eies, Or lips ; But who there weeping fits, Hath got the Prize. The Match. Ear friend ! whofe holy ever-living lines Have done much good To many, and have checkt my blood, My fierce, wild blood, that ftill heaves, and inclines, But is ftill tam'd By thofe bright fires which thee inflam'd ; Here I joyn hands, and thruft my ftubborn heart Into thy Deed, There from no Duties to be freed, And if hereafter y outh ox folly thwart And claim their fhare, Here I renounce the pois'nous ware. II. ACcept, dread Lord, the poore Oblation ; It is but poore ; Yet through thy mercies may be more. O thou ! that canft not wifh my foul's damnation, Afford me life, And fave me from all inward ftrife ! OR SACRED POEMS. 55 Two Lifes I hold from thee, my gracious Lord, Both colt thee dear ; For one, I am thy Tenant here ; The other, the true life, in the next world And endlefs is, O let me Hill mind that in this ! To thee therefore my Thoughts, Words, Anions I do reiign ; Thy will in all be done, not mine. Settle my houfe, and fhut out all detractions That may unknit My heart, and thee planted in it ; Lord Jefu ! thou didft bow thy blefTed head Upon a tree, O do as much, now unto me ! O hear, and heal thy fervant ! Lord, ftrike dead All lufts in me, Who onely wifli life to ferve thee ! Suffer no more this dult to overflow And drown my eies ; But feal, or pin them to thy ikies. And let this grain, which here in tears I fow. Though dead and Jick, Through thy Increafe grow new and quick. Rules and LefTons. Hen firft thy Eies unveil, give thy foul leave To do the like ; our Bodies but forerun The Spirit's duty. True hearts fpread and heave $6 SILEX SCINTILLANS Unto their God, as flow'rs do to the Sun. Give him thy firft thoughts then; fo fhalt thou keep Him company all day, and in him fleep. Yet never fleep the Sun up. Prayer fhou'd Dawn with the day. There are fet, awful hours 'Twixt heaven and us. The Manna was not good After Sun-rifing ; far-day fullies flowres. Rife to prevent the Sun ; fleep doth fins glut, And heaven's gate opens when this world's is fhut. Walk with thy fellow-creatures : note the hufo And wbifpers amongft them. There's not a Spring, Or Leafe but hath his Morning-hymn. Each Bujh And Oak doth know / AM. Canft thou not fing ? O leave thy Cares, and follies ! go this way ; And thou art fure to profper all the day. Serve God before the world ; let him not go, Until thou haft a blemng ; then refigne The whole unto him ; and remember who Prevail'd by wreftling ere the Sun did Jhine. Poure Oy/e upon the ftones ; weep for thy fin ; Then journey on, and have an eie to heav'n. Mornings are Myfteries ; the firft world's Youth, Man's Refurreftion, and the future's Bud Shrowd in their births : The Crown of life, light, truth Is ftil'd their ftarre, the ft one, and hidden food. Three blejfings wait upon them, two of which Should move ; They make us holy, happy, rich. When the world's up, and ev'ry fwarm abroad, Keep thou thy temper ; mix not with each Clay ; Difpatch necemties ; life hath a load OR SACRED POEMS: 57 Which mull be carri'd on, and fafely may. Yet keep thofe cares without thee, let the heart Be God's alone, and choofe the better part. Through all thy Aftions, Counfels, and Difcourfe, Let Mildnefs and Religion guide thee out; If truth be thine, what needs a brutifh force ? But what's not good and juft ne'er go about. Wrong not thy Confcience for a rotten flick ; That gain is dreadful, which makes fpirits lick. To God, thy countrie, and thy friend be true ; If Prieft and People change, keep thou thy ground. Who fels Religion, is a Judas Jew j And, oathes once broke, the foul cannot be found. The perjurer's a devil let loofe : what can Tie up his hands, that dares mock God and man? Seek not the fame Heps with the Crowd ; Hick thou To thy fure trot ; a Conflant, humble mind Is both his own Joy, and his Maker's too ; Let folly dull it on, or lag behind. A fweet J "elf ^-privacy in a right foul Out-runs the Earth, and lines the utmofl pole. To all that feek thee bear an open heart ; Make not thy breafl a Labyrinth or Trap ; If tryals come, this wil make good thy part, For honefly is fafe, come what can hap; It is the good man's feaft> the prince of flo wres, Which thrives mfkorms, and fmels bell after Jhow res. Seal not thy Eyes up from the poor, but give Proportion to their Merits, and thy Purfe ; 58 SILEX SCINTILLANS Thou may'ft in Rags a mighty Prince relieve, Who, when thy iins call for't, can fence a Curfe. Thou malt not lofe one mite. Though waters ftray , The Bread we call returns in fraughts one day. Spend not an hour fo as to weep another, For tears are not thine own ; If thou giv'ft words, Dam not with them thy friend, nor Heav'n ; O fmother A viperous thought ; fome Syllables are Swords, Unbitted tongues are in their penance double ; Theyfhame their owners, and their hearers trouble. Injure not modeft bloud, while fpirits rife In judgement againft Lewdnefs ; that's bafe wit, Thatvoyds but filth and flench. Haft thou no prize But ficknefs or Infeclion ? ftifle it. Who makes his jeft of fins, muft be at leaft If not a very devill, worfe than Beaft, Yet fly no friend, if he be fuch indeed ; But meet to quench his Longings, and thy Thirft ; Allow your Joyes Religion ; That done, fpeed, And bring the fame man back, thou wert at Aril. Who fo returns not, cannot pray aright, But fhuts his door, and leaves God out all night. To heighten thy Devotions, and keep low All mutinous thoughts, what bufines e'r thou haft, Obferve God in his works ; here fountains flow, Birds fmg, Beafts feed, Fijb leap, and th' Earth ftands fall ; Above are reftles motions, running Lights, Vaft Circling Azure, giddy Clouds, days, nights. OR SACRED POEMS. 59 When Seafons change, then lay before thine Eys His wondrous Method ; mark the various Scenes ** In heav'n ; Hail, Thunder, Rain-bows, Snow, and Ice, Calmes, Tempefts, Light, and darknes by his means ; Thou canft not miffe his Praife ; Each tree, herb, flow re Are fhadows of his wifedome, and his Pow'r. To me ales when thou doeft come, give him the praife Whofe Arm fupply'd thee ; Take what may fuffice, And then be thankful ; O admire His ways Who ills the world's unempty'd granaries ! A thanklefs feeder is a Theif, his feafl A very Robbery, and himfelf no gueft. High-noon thus pail, thy time decays ; provide Thee other thoughts ; Away with friends and mirth ; The Sun now ftoops, and hailes his beams to hide Under the dark and melancholy Earth. All but preludes thy End. Thou art the man Whofe Rife, bight, and Defcent is but a fpan. Yet, fet as he 'doth, and 'tis well. Have all Thy Beams home with thee : trim thy Lamp, buy Oyl, And then fet forth ; who is thus dreft, The Fall Furthers his glory, and gives death the foyl. Man is a Summer s day ; whofe youth and fire Cool to a glorious Evening, and Expire. When night comes, lift thy deeds ; make plain the way 'Twixt heaven and thee ; block it not with delays ; But perfect all before thou ileep'ft ; Then fay Ther's one Sun more ft rung on my Bead of days. What's good fcore up for Joy ; the bad well fcann'd Waih off with tears, and get thy Mafter's hand. 6o SILEX SCINTILLANS Thy Accounts thus made, fpend in the grave one houre Before thy time ; Be not a ftranger there, Where thou may 'ft fleep whole ages ; Life's poor flow'r Lafts not a night fometimes. Bad fpirits fear This Converfation ; But the good man lyes Intombed many days before he dyes. Being laid, and dreft for fleep, Clofe not thy Eyes Up with thy Curtains ; Give thy foul the wing In fome good thoughts ; So when the day fhall rife, And thou unrakfl thy fire, thok /parks will bring New flames ,• Befides where thefe lodge vain beats mourn And die ; that Bujh, where God is, fhall not burn. When thy Nap's over, ftir thy fire, unrake In that dead age ; one beam i'th' dark outvies Two in the day ; Then from the Damps and Ake Of night fhut up thy haves ; be Chafte ; God prys Through thickeft nights; Though then the Sun be far, Do thou the works of Day, and rife* a Star. Briefly, Doe as tbou would* ft be done unto, Love God, and love thy Neighbour y Watch, and Pray. Thefe are the Words, and Works of life ; This do, And live ; who doth not thus, hath loft Heav'n's way. O lofe it not ! look up, wilt Change thofe Lights For Chains of Darknes and Eternal Nights ? OR SACRED POEMS. 61 Corruption. |Ure, It was fo. Man in thofe early days Was not all ftone and Earth ; He Ihin'd a little, and by thofe weak Rays, Had fome glimpfe of his birth. He faw Heaven o'er his head, and knew from whence He came condemned hither, And, as firil Love draws ftrongeft, fo from hence His mind fure progrefs'd thither. Things here were ftrange unto him : Swet and till, All was a thorn or weed ; Nor did thofe kit, but, like himfelf, dyed ftill As foon as they did Seed ,* They feem'd to quarrel with him ; for that Act, That felTd him, foyl'd them all ; He drew the Curfe upon the world, and Crackt The whole frame with his fall. This made him long for home, as loath to Hay With murmurers and foes ; He fighed for Eden, and would often fay Ah ! what bright days were thofe ! Nor was Heav'n cold unto him ; for each day The vally, or the Mountain Afforded vifits, and ftill Paradife lay In fome green made or fountain. Angels lay Leiger here ; Each Bulh, and Cell, Each Oke and high- way knew them ; Walk but the fields, or fit down at fome well. And he was fure to view them. Almighty Love ! where art thou now ? mad man 62 SILEX SCINT1LLJNS Sits down, and freeze th on, He raves, and fwears to ftir nor fire nor fan, But bids the thread be fpun. I fee, thy Curtains are Clofe-drawn ; Thy bow- Looks dim too in the Cloud ; Sin triumphs ftill, and man is funk below The Center, and his fhrowd. All's in deep fleep, and night ; Thick darknefs lyes And hatcheth o'er thy people — But hark ! what trumpet's that, what angel cries Arife! Tbruft in t by fickle! H. Scriptures, S-Elcome, dear book, foul's Joy and food ! The feaft Of Spirits ; Heav'n extracted lyes in thee. Thou art life's Charter, The Dove's fpotlefs neft Where fouls are hatch'd unto Eternitie. In thee the hidden ftone, the Manna lies ; Thou art the great Elixir rare and Choice ; The Key that opens to all Myfteries, The Word in Characters, God in the Voice, O that I had deep Cut in my hard heart Each line in thee ! Then would I plead in groans Of my Lord's penning, and by fweeteft Art Return upon himfelf the Law, and Stones, Read here, my faults are thine. This Book, and I Will tell thee fo ; Sweet Saviour thou didft dye I OR SJCRED POEMS. 63 Unprofitablenes. jOw rich, O Lord, how frefh thy vifits are ! 'Twas but jufl now my bleak leaves hope- lefs hung Sullyed with dull and mud ; Each fnarling blafl fhot through me, and did fhear Their Youth and beauty ; Cold fhowres nipt, and wrung Their fpicinefs and bloud. But fince thou didft in one fweet glance furvey Their fad decays, I flourifh, and once more Breathe all perfumes and fpice ; I fmell a dew like Myrrb, and all the day Wear in my bofome a full Sun ; fuch ilore Hath one beame from thy Eyes. But, ah, my God ! what fruit hail thou of this ? What one poor leaf did ever I let fall To wait upon thy wreath? Thus thou all day a thanklefs weed doll drefs, And when th' hall done, a flench or fog is all The odour I bequeath. Chrifts Nativity. Wake, glad heart ! get up, and Sing ! It is the Birth-day of thy King. Awake ! awake ! The Sun doth fliake 64 SILEX SCINTILLJNS Light from his locks, and, all the way Breathing Perfumes, doth fpice the day. Awake, awake ! heark how th' wood rings, Winds whifper, and the bufie fprings A Concert make ; Awake ! awake ! Man is their high-prieft, and mould rife To offer up the facrifice. 3- I would I were fome Bird, or liar, Flutt'ring in woods, or lifted far Above this Inne And Rode of fin! Then either Star or Bird ihould be Shining or finging ftill to thee. 4- I would I had in my beft part Fit Roomes for thee ! or that my heart Were fo clean as Thy manger was ! But I am all filth, and obfcene ; Yet, if thou wilt, thou canft make clean. 5; Sweet Jefu ! will then ; Let no more This Leper haunt and foyl thy door ! Cure him, Eafe him, O releafe him ! And let once more, by myftick birth, The Lord of life be born in Earth. OR SACRED POEMS. 65 II. HOw kind is heav'n to man ! If here One finner doth amend, Strait there is Joy, and ev'ry fphere In mufick doth Contend. And fhall we then no voices lift ? Are mercy and falvation Not worth our thanks ? Is life a gift Of no more acceptation ? Shall he that did come down from thence, And here for us was flain, Shall he be now call off? no fenfe Of all his woes remain ? Can neither Love nor fufPrings bind ? Are we all flone and Earth ? Neither his bloudy paffions mind, Nor one day blerte his birth ? Alas, my God! Thy birth now here Mull not be numbred in the year.* The Check. Eace, peace ! I blufh to hear thee ; when thou art A dully flory, A lpeechleffe heap, and in the midfl my heart * The Puritans abolijhed the celebration of Chriftmas* F 66 SILEX SCINTILLJNS In the fame livery dreft Lyes tame as all the reft ; When fix years thence digg'd up, fome youthfull Eie Seeks there for Symmetry, But finding none, fhall leave thee to the wind. Or the next foot to Crufh, Scatt'ring thy kind And humble duft, — tell then, dear flefh, Where is thy glory ? As he, that in the midft of day Expe&s The hideous night, Sleeps not, but fhaking off floth and negle&s, Works with the Sun, and fets Paying the day its debts ; That for Repofe and darknefs bound, he might Reft from the fears i'th' night ; So mould we too. All things teach us to die, And point us out the way ; While we pafle by, And mind it not ; play not away Thy glimpfe of light. 3- View thy fore-runners. Creatures, giv'n to be Thy youth's Companions, Take their leave, and die ; Birds, beafts, each tree All that have growth or breath Have one large language, Death I O then play not I but ftrive to Him, who Can Make thefe fad ihades pure Sun, Turning their mifts to beams, their damps to day ; OR SACRED POEMS. 67 Whofe pow'r doth fo excell As to make Clay A fpirit, and true glory dwell In dull and {tones. 4- Heark, how he doth Invite thee ! with what voice Of Love and forrow IJe begs and Calls ! O that in thefe thy days Thou knew'ft but thy own good ! Shall not the Crys of bloud, Of God's own bloud awake thee ? He bids beware Of drunknes, forfeits, Care ; But thou fleep'ft on ; where's now thy proteftation, Thy Lines, thy Love ? Away ! Redeem the day ; The day that gives no obfervation Perhaps to morrow. Diforder and frailty. ^Hen firft thou didft even from the grave And womb of darknefs becken out My brutifh foul, and to thy Have Becam'ft thy felf both guide and Scout ; Even from that hour Thou got' ft my heart ; And though here toft By winds, and bit with froft, I pine and fhrink, Breaking the link 'Twixt thee and me ; And oftimes creep Into th' old filence, and dead fleep, 68 SILEX SCINTILLANS Quitting thy way All the long day ; Yet, fure, my God ! I love thee moft. Alas, thy love! 2. I threaten heaven, and from my Cell Of Clay and frailty break and bud, Touch'd by thy fire and breath ; Thy bloud Too is my Dew, and fpringing well. But while I grow And ftretch to thee, ayming at all Thy ftars and fpangled hall, Each fly doth tafte, Poyfon, and blaft My yielding leaves ; fometimes a fliowr Beats them quite off; and in an hour Not one poor flioot, But the bare root Hid under ground furvives the fall. Alas, frail weed! 3- Thus like fome fleeping Exhalation, Which, wak'd by heat and beams, makes up Unto that Comforter, the Sun, And foars, and fhines, but e'er we fup And walk two Heps, Cool'd by the damps of night defcends, And, whence it fprung, there ends, Doth my weak fire Pine, and retire ; And, after all my hight of flames, In fickly Expirations tames, OR SACRED POEMS. 69 Leaving me dead On my firft bed, Untill thy Sun again afcends. Poor y falling Star! 4- O, yes ! but give wings to my fire ; And hatch my foul, untill it fly Up where thou art, amongft thy tire Of Stars, above Infirmity ; Let not perverfe, And foolifh thoughts adde to my Bill Of forward Sins, and Kill That feed, which thou In me didft fow ; But drefle, and water with thy grace Together with the feed, the place ; And, for his fake Who died to Hake His life for mine, tune to thy will My heart, my verfe. Hofea Cap. 6. ver. 4. O Ephraim what Jb all I do unto thee? Judah how Jhall I in treat thee P for thy goodnefs is as a morning Cloudy and as the early Dew it goeth away. Idle Verfe. O, go, queint folies, fugred fin, Shadow no more my door ! I will no longer Cobwebs fpin ; Pm too much on the fcore. 70 SILEX SCINTILLJNS For fince amidft my youth and night My great preferver fmiles, Wee'l make a Match, my only light And Joyn againfl their wiles. Blind, defp'rate Jits, that ftudy how To dreffe and trim our fhame, That gild rank poyfon, and allow Vice in a fairer name ; The Purles of youthfull bloud and bowles, Lull in the Robes of Love, The idle talk of feav'rifti fouls Sick with a fcarf or glove ; Let it fuffice my warmer days Simper'd and fhin'd on you ; Twill not my Cypreffe with your Bays Or Rofes with my Yewgh. Go, go, feek out fome greener thing ; It fnows and freeze th here ; Let Nightingales attend the fpring ; Winter is all my year. S on-day es. Right fliadows of true Reft! fome lhoots ofblhTe; Heaven once a week ; The next world's gladnefs prepoffell in this; A day to feek ; OR SACRED POEMS. 7 i Eternity in time ; the fteps by which We Climb above all ages ; Lamps that light Man through his heap of dark days ; and the rich, And full redemption of the whole week's flight ! 2. The Pulleys unto headlong man ; time's bower ; The narrow way ; Tranfplanted Paradife ; God's walking houre ; The Cool o'th' day ! The Creature's Jubile ; God's parle with dull; Heaven here ; Man on thofe hills of Myrrh and flowres ; Angels defcending ; the Returns of Truft ; A Gleam of Glory after fix-days-fhowres ! 3- The Churche's love-feafts ; Time's Prerogative, And Intereft Deducted, from the whole ; The Combs, and hive, And home of reft. The milky way Chalkt out with Suns ; a Clue, That guides through erring hours ; and in full ftory A tafte of Heav'n on earth ; the pledge and Cue Of a full feait ; and the Out-Courts of glory. Repentance. Ord, fince thou didft in this vile Clay That facred Ray, Thy Spirit, plant, quickning the whole With that one grain's Infufed wealth, 72 SILEX SCINTILLJNS My forward flefli crept on, and fubtly ftole Both growth and power ; Checking the health ■ And heat of thine : That little gate And narrow way, by which to thee The PafTage is, He term'd a grate And Entrance to Captivitie ; Thy laws but nets, where fome fmall birds, And thofe but feldome too, were caught, Thy Promifes but empty words Which none but Children heard, or taught. This I believed ; And though a friend Came oft from far, and whifper'd, No ; Yet, that not forting to my end, I wholy liften'd to my foe. Wherefore, pierc'd through with grief, my fad Seduced foul fighs up to thee ; To thee, who with true light art Clad, And feeft all things juft as they be. Look from thy throne upon this Roll Of heavy fins, my high tranfgrefhons, Which I Confefle with all my foul ; My God, Accept of my Confefiion ! It was laft day, Touch'd with the guilt of my own way, I fate alone, and taking up The bitter Cup, Through all thy fair and various ftore, Sought out what might outvie my fcore. The blades of grafle thy Creatures feeding ; The trees, their leafs ; the flowres, their Seeding ; The Dull, of which I am a part; The Stones much fofter than my heart ; The drops of rain, the fighs of wind, The Stars, to which I am ftark blind ; OR SACRED POEMS. 73 The Dew thy herbs drink up by night, The beams they warm them at i'th' light ; All that have fignature or life I fummon'd to decide this ftrife ; And left I mould lack for Arrears, A fpring ran by, I told her tears ; But when thefe came unto the fcale, My fins alone outweigh'd them alL O my dear God ! my life, my love ! Moft blefled lamb ! and mildeft dove ! Forgive your penitent Offender, And no more his fins remember ; Scatter thefe lhades of death, and give Light to my foul, that it may live ; Cut me not off for my tranfgreffions, Wilful rebellions, and fuppreffions ; But give them in thofe ftreams a part Whofe fpring is in my Saviour's heart. Lord, I confeffe the heynous fcore, And pray, I may do fo no more ; Though then all finners I exceed; O think on this ; Thy Son did bleed! O call to mind his wounds, his woes, His Agony, and bloudie throes ; Then look on all that thou haft made, And mark how they do fail and fade ; The heavens themfelves, though fair and bright, Are dark and unclean in thy fight ; How then, with thee, Can man be holy, Who doeft thine Angels charge with folly ? what am I, that I lhould breed Figs on a thorne, flowres on a weed ? 1 am the gourd of fin and forrow, Growing o'er night, and gone to morrow* 74 SILEX SCINTILLANS In all this Round of life and death Nothing's more vile than is my breath ; Profanenes on my tongue doth reft, Defedts and darknefs in my breft ; Pollutions all my body wed, And even my foul to thee is dead ; Only in him, on whom I feaft, Both foul and body are well dreft ; His pure perfection quits all fcore, And fills the Boxes of his poor ; He is the Center of long life and light ; I am but finite, He is Infinite. O let thy Juftice then in him Confine ; And through his merits make thy mercy mine ! The Burial of an Infant. Left Infant Bud, whofe BlofTome-life Did only look about, and fall, Wearyed out in a harmlefs ftrife Of tears, and milk, the food of all ! Sweetly didft thou expire : Thy foul Flew home unftain'd by his new kin ; For ere thou knew'ft how to be foul, Death wearfd thee from the world and fin. Softly reft all thy Virgin- Crums ! Lapt in the fweets of thy young breath, Expecting till thy Saviour Comes To dreffe them, and unfwadle death. OR SACRED POEMS. 75 Faith. \ Right and bleft beame ! whofe ftrong pro- jection, Equall to all, Reacheth as well things of dejection As th' high and tall ; How hath my God by raying thee Inlarg'd his fpoufe, And of a private familie Made open houfe ! All may be now Co-heirs ; no noife Of Bond or Free Can Interdict us from thofe Joys That wait on thee. The Law and Ceremonies made A .glorious night, Where Stars, and Clouds, both light, and made Had equal right ; But, as in nature, when the day Breaks, night adjourns, Stars fhut up ihop, mills pack away, And the Moon mourns ; So when the Sun of righteoufnefs Did once appear, That Scene was chang'd, and a new drefTe Left for us here ; Veiles became ufeles, Altars fell, Fires fmoking die ; And all that sacred pomp, and fhell Of things did flie. 76 SILEX SCINTILLJNS Then did He ftiine forth, whofe fad fall, And bitter fights Were figur'd in thofe myftical, And Cloudie Rites ; And as i'th' natural Sun, thefe three, Light, motion, beat, So are now Faith, Hope, Charity Through him Compleat ; Faith fpans up bliffe; what fin and death Put us quite from, Left we fhould run for't out of breath, Faith brings us home ; So that I need no more, but fay / do believe, And my moft loving Lord ftraitway Doth anfwer, Live / The Dawning. what time wilt thou come ? when fhall that crie The Bridegroome's Comming! fill the iky? Shall it in the Evening run When our words and works are done ? Or will thy all-surprizing light Break at midnight, When either fleep, or fome dark pleafure PofTefTeth mad man without meafure ? Or fhall thefe early, fragrant hours Unlock thy bowres ? And with their blufh of light defcry OR SACRED POEMS. 77 Thy locks crown'd with eternitie ? Indeed, it is the only time That with thy glory doth bell chime ; All now are ftirring, ev'ry field Full hymns doth yield ; The whole Creation makes off night, And for thy fhadow looks the light ; Stars now vaniih without number, Sleepie Planets fet and flumber, The purfie Clouds difband and fcatter, All expecl: fome fudden matter ; Not one beam triumphs, but from far That morning-ftar. O at what time foever thou, Unknown to us, the heavens wilt bow, And, with thy Angels in the Fan, Defcend to judge poor carelefs man, Grant, I may not like puddle lie In a Corrupt fecuritie, Where, if a traveller water crave, He finds it dead, and in a grave ; But as this reftlefs, vocal Spring All day and night doth run, and fing, And though here born, yet is acquainted Elfewhere, and flowing keeps untainted ; So let me all my bufie age In thy free fervices ingage ; And though (while here) of force I mull Have Commerce fomtimes with poor dull, And in my flefh, though vile and low, As this doth in her Channel, flow, Yet let my Courfe, my aym, my Love, And chief acquaintance be above; 78 SILEX SCINTILLANS So when that day and hour fhall come, In which thy felf will be the Sun, Thou'lt find me dreft and on my way, Watching the Break of thy great day. Admiffion. |Ow flirill are filent tears ? when fin got head And all my Bowels turn'd To brafle and iron, when my ftock lay dead, And all my powers mourn'd ; Then did thefe drops, (for Marble fweats, And Rocks have tears,) As rain here at our windows beats, Chide in thine Ears ; 2. No quiet couldft thou have : nor didft thou wink, And let thy Begger lie, But e'r my eies could overflow their brink Didft to each drop reply ; Bowels of Love ! at what low rate, And flight a price Doft thou relieve us at thy gate, And ftill our Cries ! 3- Wee are thy Infants, and fuck thee ; If thou But hide, or turn thy face, Becaufe where thou art yet we cannot go, We fend tears to the place. OR SACRED POEMS. 79 Thefe find thee out, and though our fins Drove thee away ; Yet with thy love that abfence wins Us double pay. 4- O give me then a thankful heart ! a heart After thy own, not mine ; So after thine, that all and ev'ry part Of mine may wait on thine ; O hear ! yet not my tears alone, Hear now a floud, A floud that drowns both tears and grones, My Saviour's bloud. Praife. Ing of Comforts ! King of life ! Thou haft cheer'd me ; And when fears and doubts were rife, Thou haft cleer'd me ! Not a nook in all my Breaft But thou fill'ft it, Not a thought, that breaks my reft, But thou kill'ft it ; Wherefore with my utmoft ftrength I will praife thee, And as thou giv'ft line and length I will raife thee ; Day, and night, not once a day I will bleffe thee, 80 SI LEX SCINTILLANS And my foul in new array I will drefle thee ; Not one minute in the year But I'll mind thee, As my feal and bracelet here I will bind thee ; In thy word, as if in heaven I will reft me, And thy promife 'till made even There mall feaft me. Then thy fayings all my life There fhall pleafe me, And thy bloudy wounds, and ftrife They will eafe me ; With thy grones my daily breath I will meafure, And my life hid in thy death I will treafure. Though then thou art Paft thought of heart All perfect fulnefs, And canft no whit AccefTe admit From duft and dulnefs ; Yet to thy name, As not the fame With thy bright Effence> Our foul Clay hands OR SACRED POEMS. Si At thy Commands Bring praife and Incenfe ; If then, dread Lord> When to thy board Thy wretch comes begging, He hath a flowre Or, to his pow'r* Some fuch poor OrFring ; When thou hall: made Thy begger glad, And fill'd his bofome, Let him, though poor> Strow at thy door That one poor BlofTome* Dreffing. Thou that loveft a pure and whitend foul ! That feedft among the Lillies, 'till the day Break, and the fhadows flee ! touch with one Coal My frozen heart ! and with thy fecret key Open my defolate rooms ; my gloomie Breft With thy cleer fire refine, burning to dull Thefe dark Confufions that within me neft, And foyl thy Temple with a finful ruft. Thou holy, harmlefs, undefil'd High-priefl ! The perfect, full oblation for all fin, Whofe glorious conquer! nothing can refill, But even in babes doeft triumph ftill and win ; G 82 SILEX SCINTILLANS Give to thy wretched one Thy myfticall Communion,. That, abfent, he may fee, Live, die, and rife with thee ; Let him fo follow here,, that in the end He may take thee, as thou doft him intend. Give him thy private feal, Earneft, and fign !. Thy gifts fo deal That thefe forerunners here May make the - future cleer ! Whatever thou doft bid let faith make good, Bread for thy body, and Wine for thy blood. Give him, with pitty ,. love, Two flowres that grew with thee above ; Love that fhall not admit Anger for one fhort fit ; And pitty of fuch a divine extent, That may thy members, more than mine, refent. Give me, my God !. thy grace, The beams, and brightnefs of thy face ; That never like a beaft I take thy facred feaft, Or the dread myfteries of thy bleft bloud Ufe, with like Cuftome, as my Kitchin food. Some lit to thee, and eat Thy body as their Common meat ; O let not me do fo I Poor duft mould ly ftill low ; Then kneel, my foul and body, kneel and bow ; If Saints and Angels fall down, much more thou. OR SACRED POEMS. 83 Eafter-day. ®Hou, whofe fad heart and weeping head lyes low, Whofe Cloudy breft cold damps invade, Who never feel'ft the Sun, nor fmooth'ft thy brow, But fitt'ft oppreffed in the made, Awake ! awake ! And in his Refurre&ion partake, Who on this day, that thou might'ft rife as he, Rofe up, and canceled two deaths due to thee. Awake ! awake ! and, like the Sun, difperfe All mills that would ufurp this day ; Where are thy Palmes, thy branches, and thy verfe ? Hofanna I heark ! why doeft thou Hay ? Arife ! arife ! And with his healing bloud anoint thine Eyes, Thy inward Eyes ; his bloud will cure thy mind, Whofe fpittle only could reftore the blind. Eafter Hymn. Eath, and darknefs get you packing, Nothing now to man is lacking ; All your triumphs now are ended, And what Adam marr'd is mended ; Graves are beds now for the weary, Death a nap, to wake more merry ; 84 SILEX SCINTILLANS Youth now, full of pious duty, Seeks in thee for perfect beauty ; The weak and aged tir'd with length Of daies from thee look for new ftrength ; And Infants with thy pangs Conteft As pleafant, as if with the breft. Then, unto Him, who thus hath thrown Even to Contempt thy kingdome down, And by His blood did us advance Unto His own Inheritance, To Him be glory, power, praife, From this, unto the laft of daies ! The Holy Communion. ^Elcome fweet, facred feaft ! O welcome life ! Dead I was, and deep in trouble ; But grace and bleflings came with thee fo rife, That they have quicken'd even drie ftubble. Thus foules their bodies animate, And thus at firft when things were rude, Dark, void, and Crude, They by thy Word their beauty had and date ; All were by thee, And Hill muft be; Nothing that is, or lives, But hath his Quicknings, and reprieves, As thy hand opes or fhuts ; Healings, and Cuts, Darknefs, and day-light, life, and death OR SACRED POEMS. 85 Are but meer leaves turn'd by thy breath. Spirits without thee die, And blacknefs fits On the divineft wits, As on the Sun Ecclipfes lie. But that great darknefs at thy death, When the veyl broke with thy laft breath, Did make us fee The way to thee ; And now by thefe fure, facred ties, After thy blood Our fov'rain good, Had clear'd our eies, And given us fight ; Thou doft unto thy felf betroth Our fouls and bodies both In everlafting light. Was't not enough that thou hadft payd the price, And given us eies When we had none, but thou mull alfo take Us by the hand, And keep us ftill awake, When we would fleep, Or from thee creep, Who without thee cannot Hand ? Was't not enough to lofe thy breath And blood by an accurfed death, But thou muft alfo leave To us, that did bereave Thee of them both, thefe feals, the means That mould both cleanfe And keep us fo, S6 SILEX SCINTILLANS Who wrought thy wo ? O rofe of Sharon ! O the Lilly Of the valley ! How art thou now, thy flock to keep, Become both/00^, and Sbepheard to thy fheep ! Pfalm 121. P to thofe bright and gladfome hills, Whence flowes my weal and mirth, I look, and figh for Him, who fills Unfeen both heaven and earth. He is alone my help and hope, That I fhall not be moved ; His watchful Eye is ever ope, And guardeth His beloved ; The glorious God is my fole flay, He is my Sun and fhade ; The cold by night, the heat by day, Neither fhall me invade. He keeps me from the fpite of foes ; Doth all their plots controul ; And is a fhield, not reckoning thofe, Unto my very foul. Whether abroad, amidft the Crowd, Or elfe within my door, He is my Pillar and my Cloud, Now and for evermore. OR SACRED POEMS. 87 Affliction. ? Eace, peace ; It is not fo. Thou dofl mifcall Thy Phyfick ; Pills that change Thy fick Acceffions into fetled health ; This is the great Elixir that turns gall To wine and fweetnefs, Poverty to wealth, And brings man home, when he doth range. Did not he, who ordain'd the day, Ordain night too ? And in the greater world difplay What in the lefTer He would do ? All flelh is Clay, thou know'ft ; and but that God Doth ufe his rod, And by a fruitfull Change of frofts and fhowres Cherifh and bind thy pow'rs, Thou wouldlt to weeds and thirties quite diiperfe, And be more wild than is thy verfe. - Sicknefs is wholfome, Crofles are but curbs To check the mule, unruly man ; They are heaven's hufbandry, the famous fan, Purging the floor which Chaff difturbs. Were all the year one conftant Sun-fhine, wee Should have no flowres ; All would be drought and leannefs ; not a tree Would make us bowres. Beauty confifts in colours ; and that's bell Which is not fixt, but flies and flowes. The fettled Red is dull, and whiter that reft Something of ficknefs would difclofe. Viciflitude plaies all the game ; 88 SILEX SCINT1LLANS Nothing that ftirrs, Or hath a name, But waits upon this wheel ; Kingdomes too have their Phyfick, and for fteel Exchange their peace and furrs. Thus doth God Key diforder'd man, which none elfe can, Tuning his breft to rife or fall ; And by a facred, needfull art Like firings, ftretch ev'ry part Making the whole moft Muficall, The Tempeft. |Ow is man parceled out ? how every hour Shews him himfelf, or fomething he fhould fee ! This late, long heat may his Xnftru£tion be ; And tempefts have more in them than a fhowr. When nature on her bofome faw Her Infants die, And all her flowres withered to ft raw. Her breft s grown dry ; She made the Earth, their nurfe IS tomb, Sigh to thefky, 9 Till to thofe ftghes fetch' d from her womb Rain did reply ,• So in the midft of all her fears And faint requefts, Her Earneft Jighes procured her tears And fill d her brefts* OR SACRED POEMS. 89 O that man could do fo ! that he would hear The world read to him ! all the vaft expence In the Creation fhed, and flav'd to fence Makes up but lectures for his eie and ear. Sure Mighty Love, forefeeing the defcent Of this poor Creature, by a gracious art Hid in thefe low things fnares to gain his heart, And layd furprizes in each Element. All things here mew him heaven ; waters that fall, Chide and fly up ; Mifts of corrupteft foam Quit their firfl: beds & mount ; trees, herbs, flowres, all Strive upwards Hill, and point him the way home. How do they caft off groflhefs ? only Earthy And Man like Iffachar in lodes delight, Water's refin'd to Motion, Aire to Light , Fire to all* three, but man hath no fuch mirth. Plants in the root with Earth do moll Comply, Their Leafs with water and humiditie, The Flowres to air draw neer and fubtiltie, And feeds a kindred fire have with the iky. All have their keyes and fet afcents ; but man Though he knows thefe, and hath more of his own, Sleeps at the ladder's foot ; alas ! what can Thefe new difcoveries do, except they drown ? Thus, groveling in the (hade and darknefs, he Sinks to a dead oblivion ; and though all * Light, Motion, heat. 90 SILEX SCINTILLANS He fees, like Pyramids, fhoot from this ball And lefPning flill grow up invifihly, Yet hugs he flill his durt ; The fluff e he wears, And painted trimming takes down both his eies ; Heaven hath lefs beauty than the duft he fpies, And money better mufick than the Spheres. Life's but a blaft ; he knows it ; what ? fhall ftraw, And bul-rufh-fetters temper his ihort hour ? Muft he nor fip nor fing ? grows ne'r a flowr To crown his temples ? fhall dreams be his law ? O foolifh man ! how haft thou loft thy fight ? How is it that the Sun to thee alone Is grown thick darknefs, and thy bread a ftone ? Hath flefh no foftnefs now ? mid-day no light ? Lord ! thou didft put a foul here. If I muft Be broke again, for flints will give no fire Without a fteel, O let thy power cleer Thy gift once more, and grind this flint to duft ! Retirement. £Ho on yon throne of Azure fits, Keeping clofe houfe Above the morning-ftarre, Whofe meaner fhowes, And outward utenfils thefe glories are, That fhine and fhare Part of his manfion ; He one day, When I went quite aftray, OR SACRED POEMS. 91 Out of meer love, By his mild Dove, Did mew me home, and put me in the way. Let it fuffice at length thy fits And lulls, faid he, Have had their wiih, and way ; PrefTe not to be Still thy own foe, and mine ; for to this day I did delay, And would not fee, but chofe to wink ; Nay, at the very brink And edge of all, When thou wouldfl fall, My love-twift held thee up, my unfeen link. 3. I know thee well ; for I have fram'd, And hate thee not ; Thy fpirit too is mine ; I know thy lot, Extent, and end, for my hands drew the line Affigned thine ; If then thou would'lt unto my feat, 'Tis not th' applaufe and feat Of dull and clay Leads to that way, But from thofe follies a refolv'd Retreat. 4- Now here below where yet untam'd Thou doll thus rove, I have a houfe as well As there above; 92 SILEX SCINTILLANS In it my Name and honour both do dwell ; And fhall untill I make all new ; there nothing gay In perfumes or Array, Dull lies with dull, And hath but juft The fame Refpecl and room with ev'ry clay. 5- A faithfull fchool, where thou maift fee, In Heraldrie Of ftones and fpeechlefs Earth, Thy true defcent ; Where dead men preach, who can turn fealts and mirth To funerals and Lent, There dull, that out of doors might fill Thy eies, and blind thee ftill, Is fall alleep. Up then, and keep Within thofe doors, my doors. Doll hear ? / will. Love, and Difcipline, Ince in a land not barren ftill, Becaufe thou doll thy grace diftill, My lot is fain, Blell be thy will ! And fince thefe biting frolls but kill Some tares in me which choke or fpill That feed thou fow'll, Blell be thy fkill ! OR SACRED POEMS. 93 Bleft be thy Dew, and bleft thy froft, And happy I to be fo croft, And cur'd by Crofles at thy coll. The Dew doth Cheer what is diftreft, The frofts ill weeds nip and moleft, In both thou work'fl unto the belt Thus while thy fev'ral mercies plot, And work on me now cold now hot, The work goes on, and flacketh not ; For as thy hand the weather fleers, So thrive I beft 'twixt joyes and tears, And all the year have fome grean Ears. The Pilgrimage, S travellours when the twilight's come, And in the iky the flars appear, The pall daies accidents do fumme With, Thus wee f aw there, and thus here. Then Jacoi-like lodge in a place, A place, and no more, is fet down, Where till the day reftore the race They reft and dream homes of their own. So for this night I linger here, And full of toffings to and fro, Expe£t ftill when thou wilt appear, That I may get me up, and go. 94 SILEX SCINTILLANS I long and grone and grieve for thee, For thee my words, my tears do gufh ; O that I were but where I fee / Is all the note within my Bufh. As Birds robb'd of their native wood, Although their Diet may be fine, Yet neither fing, nor like their food, But with the thought of home do pine ; So do I mourn, and hang my head ; And though thou doft me fullnes give, Yet look I for far better bread, Becaufe by this man cannot live. O feed me then ! and fince I may Have yet more days, more nights to Count, So ftrengthen me, Lord, all the way, That I may travel to thy Mount. Heb. Cap. xi. ver. 13. And they Confejfed, that they wereftrangers, and Pilgrims on the earth. The Law, and the Gofpel. J Ord, when thou didft on Sinai pitch, And ihine from Paran, when a firie Law, Pronounc'd with thunder and thy threats, did thaw Thy People's hearts, when all thy weeds were rich, And Inacceflible for light, Terrour, and might ; — OR SACRED POEMS. 95 How did poor flefh, which after thou didft weare, Then faint and fear ! Thy Chofen flock, like leafs in a high wind, Whifper'd obedience, and their heads Inclin'd. But now fince we to Sion came, And through thy bloud thy glory fee, With filial Confidence we touch ev'n thee ; And where the other mount, all clad in flame And threatning Clouds, would not fo much As 'bide the touch, We Climb up this, and have too all the way Thy hand our Hay ; Nay, thou tak'ft ours, and, which full Comfort brings, Thy Dove too bears us on her facred wings. 3- Yet fince man is a very brute, And after all thy Acts of grace doth kick, Slighting that health thou gav'ft when he was lick, Be not difpleas'd, if I, who have a fute To thee each houre, beg at thy door For this one more ; plant in me thy Go/pel, and thy Law, Both Faith, and Awe ; So twill them in my heart, that ever there 1 may as well as Love, find too thy fear! 4- Let me not fpill, but drink thy bloud ; Not break thy fence, and by a black Excefs Force down a Juft Curfe, when thy hands would blefs ; Let me not fcatter and defpife my food,. 96 SILEX SCINTILLANS Or nail thofe blefled limbs again Which bore my pain. So Shall thy mercies flow : for while I fear, I know thoul't bear, But fhould thy mild Injunction nothing move me, I would both think and judge I did not love thee. John Cap. 14. ver. 15. If ye love me, keep my Commandments. The World. Saw Eternity the other night Like a great Ring of pure and endlefs light* All calm, as it was bright ; And round beneath it. Time in hours, days, years, Driv'n by the fpheres Like a vaft fhadow mov , d > In which the world And all her train were hurl'd* The doting Lover in his queinteft ftrain Did there Complain ; Neer him, his Lute, his fancy, and his flights, Wit's four delights ; With gloves^ and knots the filly fnares of pleafure, Yet his dear Treafure, All fcatter'd lay, while he his eyes did pour Upon a flowr. The darkfome States-man hung with weights and woe, Like a thick midnight-fog, mov'd there fo flow, He did nor flay, nor go ; Condemning thoughts like fad Ecclipfes fcowl OR SACRED POEMS. 97 Upon his foul, And Clouds of crying witnefl'es without Purfued him with one ihout. Yet digg'd the Mole, and, left his ways be found, Workt under, ground, Where he did Clutch his prey ; but one did fee That policie ; Churches and altars fed him ; Perjuries Were gnats and flies ; Itrain'd about him bloud and tears ; but he Drank them as free. The fearfull mifer on a heap of ruft Sate pining all his life there, did fcarce truft His own hands with the dull, Yet would not place one peece above, but lives In feare of theeves. Thoufands there were as; frantick as himfelf, And hugg'd each one his pelf; The down-right Epicure placed heav'n in fenfe> And fcorn'd pretence ; While others, flipt into a wide Excefle, Said little leffe ; The weaker fort flight, triviall wares Inflave, Who think them brave, And poor, defpifed truth fate Counting by Their victory-. 4. Yet fome, who all this while did weep and fing, And fing and weep, foar'd up into the Ring ; But mod would ufe no wing. O fools, faid I, thus to prefer dark night H 98 SILEX SCINTILLANS Before true light! To live in grots and caves, and hate the day Becaufe it mews the way, The way, which from this dead and dark abode Leads up to God, A way where you might tread the Sun, and be More bright than he 1 But as I did their madnes fo difcufle One whifper'd thus, This Ring the Bride-groome did for none provide, But for his bride. John Cap. 2. ver. 16, 17. All that is in the world, the luft of the fie Jh, the luft of the Eye, and the pride of life, is not of the Fa- ther, but is of the world. And the world pajfeth away, and the lufts thereof; but he that doth the will of God abideth for ever. The Mutinie. ^Eary of this fame Clay and ftraw I laid Me down to breathe, and calling in my heart The after-burthens and griefs yet to come, The heavy fum So fhook my breft, that lick and fore difmai'd, My thoughts, like water, which fome ftone doth Hart, Did quit their troubled Channel, and retire Unto the banks, where, llorming at thofe bounds, They murmur'd fore ; But I, who felt them boyl OR SACRED POEMS. 99 And knew their Coy], Turning to him, who made poor fand to tire And tame proud waves, If yet thefe barren grounds And thirftie brick mull be, faid I, My tafke and Deftinie, 2. Let me fo ftrive and ftruggle with thy foes, (Not thine alone, but mine too,) that when all Their Arts and force are built unto the height, That Babel-weight May prove thy glory, and their fhame ; fo Clofe And knit me to thee, That though in this vale Of fin and death I fojourn, yet one Eie May look to thee, To thee the finifher And Author of my faith ; fo ihew me home, That all this foam And frothie noife, which up and down doth flie, May find no lodging in mine Eie or Eare ; O feal them up I that thefe may flie Like other tempefts by. 3- Not but I know thou haft a fhorter Cut To bring me home, than through a wildernes, A Sea, or Sands, and Serpents ; Yet fince thou, As thy words fhow, Though in this defart I were wholy fhut, Canft light and lead me there with fuch redrefs That no decay fhal touch me ; O be pleased To fix my fteps ; and whatfoever path Thy facred and eternall will decreed For thy bruis'd reed, O give it full obedience, that fo feiz'd Of all I have, I may nor move thy wrath LOFfc ioo SILEX SCINTILLANS Nor grieve thy Dove, but foft and mild Both live and die thy Child. Revel. Cap. 2. ver. 17. To him that overcometh wil I give to eate of the hidden Manna ; and I will give him a white ft one, and in the ft one a new name written, which no man knowethyfaving he that receiveth it. The Conftellation. Air, ordered lights, whofe motion without noife Refembles thofe true Joys, Whofe fpring is on that hill, where you do grow, And we here tafte fometimes below, With what exa£t obedience do you move Now beneath, and now above ! And in your vail progrefhons overlook The darkeft night, and clofeft nook ! Some nights I fee you in the gladfome Eaft, Some others near the Weft, And when I cannot fee, yet do you mine, And beat about your endles line. Silence and light and watchfulnes with you Attend and wind the Clue ; No fleep nor floth aflailes you, but poor man Still either fleeps, or flips his fpan. OR SACRED POEMS. 101 He gropes beneath here, and with reftlefs Care, Firft makes, then hugs a fnare ; Adores dead dull, fets heart on Come and grafs, But feldom doth make heav'n his glafs. Mufick and mirth, if there be muiick here, Take up, and tune his year ; Thefe things are Kin to him, and mull be had, Who kneels, or fighs a life, is mad. Perhaps fome nights he'll watch with you, and peep When it were bell to lleep ; Dares know Effects, and Judge them long before, When th' herb he treads knows much, much more. But feeks he your Obedience, Order, Light, Your talm and wel-train'd flight, Where, though the glory differ in each liar, Yet is there peace Hill and no war. Since plac'd by Him, who calls you by your names, And fixt there all your flames, Without Command you never acled ought, And then you in your courfes fought. But here CommiflionM by a black felf-will The fons the father kill, The Children Chafe the mother, and would heal The wounds they give by crying zeale. Then Call her bloud and tears upon thy book, Where they for falhion look ; And, like that Lamb, which had the Dragon's voice, Seem mild, but are known by their noife. loi SILEX SCINTILLANS Thus by our lufts diforder'd into wars Our guides prove wandring ftars, Which for thefe mifts and black days were refer v'd, What time we from our firft love fwerv'd. Yet O for his fake who fits now by thee All crown'd with victory, So guide us through this Darknes, that we may Be more and more in love with day ! Settle and fix our hearts, that we may move In order, peace, and love ; And taught obedience by thy whole Creation, Become an humble, holy nation ! Give to thy fpoufe her perfect and pure drefs, Beauty and holinefs ; And fo repair thefe Rents, that men may fee And fay, Where God is, all agree. The Shepheards. |Weet, harmlefs lives ! on whofe holy leifure Waits Innocence and pleafure, Whofe leaders to thofe paftures and cleer fprings Were Patriarchs, Saints, and Kings; How happend it that in the dead of night You only faw true light, While Paleftine was fall afleep, and lay Without one thought of Day ? Was it becaufe thofe firft and bleffed fwains Were pilgrims on thofe plains, OR SACRED POEMS. 103 When they receiv'd the promife, for which now 'Twas there firft fhown to you } 'Tis true, he loves that Dull whereon they go That ferve him here below, And therefore might for memory of thofe His We there firft difclofe ; But wretched Salem once his love, muft now No voice nor vifion know, Her ftately Piles with all their height and pride Now languifhed and died, And Bethlem's humble Cotts above them ftept, While all her Seers flept ; Her Cedar, firr, hew'd ftones, and gold were all Polluted through their fall. And thofe once facred manlions were now Meer emptinefs and mow. This made the Angel call at reeds and thatch. Yet where the fhepheards watch, And God's own lodging, though he could not lack, To be a common Kack ; No coftly pride, no foft-cloath'd luxurie, In thofe thin Cels could lie ; Each ftirring wind and ftorm blew through their Cots, Which never harbour' d plots ; Only Content and love and humble joys Lived there without all noife ; Perhaps fome harmlefs Cares for the next day Did in their bofomes play, As where to lead their fheep, what filent nook, What fprings or fhades to look ; But that was all ; And now with gladfome care They for the town prepare ; They leave their flock, and in a bufie talk All towards Bethlem walk 104 SI LEX SCINTILLANS To fee their foul's great fhepheard, who was come, To bring all ftraglers home ; Where now they find him out, and, taught before, That Lamb of God adore, That Lamb whofe daies great Kings and Prophets And long'd to fee, but miff'd. [wifh'd The firft light they beheld was bright and gay, And turn'd their night to day ; But to this later light they faw in him, Their day was dark and dim. Mifery. I Ord, bind me up, and let me lye A Pris'ner to my libertie, If fuch a Hate at all can be As an Impris'ment ferving thee ; The wind, though gather'd in thy fill, Yet doth it blow ftill where it lift, And yet fhouldft thou let go thy hold Thofe gufts might quarrel and grow bold. As waters here, headlong and loofe. The lower grounds ftill chafe and choofe, Where fpreading all the way they feek And fearch out every hole and Creek ; So my fpilt thoughts, winding from thee, Take the down-rode to vanitie, Where they all ftray and ftrive, which fhal! Find out the firft and fteepeft fall. I cheer their flow, giving fupply To what's already grown too high, And having thus perform' d that part OR SACRED POEMS. 105 Feed on thofe vomits of my heart. I break the fence my own hands made, Then lay that trefpaiTe in the made ; Some fig-leafs ftil I do devife, As if thou hadft nor ears nor Eyes. ExcefTe of friends, of words, and wine Take up my day, while thou doll mine All unregarded, and thy book Hath not fo much as one poor look. If thou Heal in amidfl the mirth And kindly tell me, / am Earth, I fhut thee out, and let that flip, Such Mufick fpoils good fellowship. Thus wretched I and moll: unkind, Exclude my dear God from my mind, Exclude him thence, who of that Cell Would make a Court, mould he there dwell. He goes, He yields ; And troubled fore His Holy Spirit grieves therefore ; The mighty God, th' eternal King Doth grieve for Dull, and Dull doth fing. But I go on, hafle to Diveft My felf of reafon, till oppreft And buried in my forfeits I Prove my own ihame and miferie. Next day I call and cry for thee Who fhouldfl not then come neer to me ; But now it is thy fervant's pleafure Thou mult and doll give him his meafure. Thou doll, thou com'fl, and in a fhower Of healing fweets thy felf doll pour Into my wounds ; and now thy grace (I know it well,) fills all the place ; I fit with thee by this new light, 106 SILEX SCINT1LLANS And for that hour thou'rt my delight ; No man can more the world defpife, Or thy great mercies better prize. I School my Eyes, and ftri&ly dwell Within the Circle of my Cell ; That Calm and filence are my Joys, Which to thy peace are but meer noife. At length I feel my head to ake, My fingers Itch, and burn to take Some new Imployment, I begin To fwell and foame and fret within. " The Age, the prefent times are not " To J nudge in, and embrace a Cot ; " Aclion and bloud now get the game, " Difdein treads on the peaceful name; " Who Jits at home too bears a loade " Greater than thofe that gad abroad" Thus do I make thy gifts giv'n me The only quarrellers with thee ; I'd loofe thofe knots thy hands did tie, Then would go travel, fight, or die. Thoufands of wild and wafte Infufions Like waves beat on my refolutions ; As flames about their fuel run, And work and wind till all be done, So my fierce foul bullies about, And never refts till all be out. Thus wilded by a peevifh heart, Which in thy mufick bears no part, I florin at thee, calling my peace A Lethargy, and meer difeafe ; Nay thofe bright beams fhot from thy eyes To calm me in thefe mutinies, I flile meer tempers, which take place OR SACRED POEMS. 107 At fome fet times, but are thy grace. Such is man's life, and fuch is mine, The worft of men, and yet Hill thine, Still thine, thou know'ft, and if not fo, Then give me over to my foe. Yet fince as eafie 'tis for thee To make man good as bid him be, And with one glaunce, could he that gain, To look him out of all his pain, O fend me from thy holy hill So much of llrength, as may fulfil All thy delights whate'er they be, And facred Inilitutes in me ! Open my rockie heart, and fill It with obedience to thy will ; Then feal it up, that as none fee, So none may enter there but thee. O hear, my God ! hear Him, whofe bloud Speaks more and better for my good ! O let my Crie come to thy throne ! My crie not pour'd with tears alone, (For tears alone are often foul,) But with the bloud of all my foul ; With fpirit-fighs, and earneft grones, Faithful and moll repenting mones, With thefe I crie, and crying pine, Till thou both mend, and make me thine. The Sap. Ome, faplefs BloiTom, creep not ftill on Earth Forgetting thy fir ft birth ! 'Tis not from dull; or if fo, why doll thou 108 SILEX SCINTILLANS Thus call and thirft for dew ? It tends not thither; if it doth, why then This growth and ftretch for heav'n ? Thy root fucks but difeafes ; worms there feat, And claim it for their meat. Who plac'd thee here did fomething then Infufe, Which now can tell thee news. There is beyond the Stars an hill of myrrh, From which fome drops fall here ; On it the Prince of Salem fits, who deals To thee thy fecret meals ; There is thy Country, and He is the way, And hath withal the key. Yet liv'd He here fometimes, and bore for thee A world of miferie, For thee, who in the firft man's loyns didft fall . From that hill to this vale ; And had not he fo done, it is moll true Two deaths had been thy due ; But going hence, and knowing well what woes Might his friends difcompofe, To mew what ftrange love He had to our good, He gave his facred bloud, By will our fap and Cordial ; now in this Lies fuch a heav'n of blifs, That who but truly taftes it, no decay Can touch him any way. Such fecret life and vertue in it lies, It will exalt, and rife, And actuate fuch fpirits as are fhed, Or ready to be dead ; And bring new too. Get then this fap, and get Good ftore of it, but let The veflel where you put it be for fure OR SACRED POEMS. 109 To all your pow'r moft pure ; There is at all times, though fhut up, in you A powerful, rare dew, Which only grief and love extract ; with this Be fure, and never mifs, To wafh your vefTel well : Then humbly take This balm for fouls that ake ; And one who drank it thus afliires that you Shal find a Joy fo true, Such perfect Eafe, and fuch a lively fenfe Of grace againft all fins, That you'll Confefs the Comfort fuch, as even Brings to, and comes from, Heaven. Mount of Olives. •;Hen firft I faw true beauty, and thy Joys Active as light, and calm without all noife, Shin'd on my foul, I felt through all my powr's Such a rich air of fweets, as Evening fhowrs Fand by a gentle gale Convey, and breathe On fomeparch'd bank, crown'd with a flowrie wreath; Odors, and Myrrh, and balm in one rich floud O'r-ran my heart, and fpirited my bloud ; My thoughts did fwim in Comforts, and mine eie Confeft, The world did only paint and lie. And where before I did no fafe Courfe fleer, But wander'd under tempefts all the year ; Went bleak and bare in body as in mind, And was blow'n through by every florin and wind, no SILEX SCINTILLANS I am fo warm'd now by this glance on me, That midft all ftorms I feel a Ray of thee. So have I known fome beauteous Paifage rife In fuddain flowres and arbours to my Eies, And in the depth and dead of winter bring To my Cold thoughts a lively fenfe of fpring. Thus fed by thee, who doll all beings nourifh, My wither'd leafs again look green and flourifh ; I mine and fhelter underneath thy wing, Where rick with love I ftrive thy name to fing ; Thy glorious name ! which grant I may fo do, That thefe may be tby Praife, and my Joy too ! Man. ^Eighing the ftedfaftnefs and Hate Of fome mean things which here below refide, Where birds like watchful Clocks the noifelefs date And Intercourfe of times divide, Where Bees at night get home and hive, and flowrs, Early as well as late, Rife with the Sun, and fet in the fame bowrs ; 2. I would, faid I, my God would give The ftaidnefs of thefe things to man ! for thefe To His divine appointments ever cleave, And no new bufmefs breaks their peace ; The birds nor fow nor reap, yet fup and dine, The flowres without clothes live, Yet Solomon was never dreft fo fine. OR SACRED POEMS. in 3- Man hath Hill either toyes or Care ; He hath no root, nor to one place is ty'd, But ever refllefs and Irregular About this Earth doth run and ride* He knows he hath a home, but fcarce knows where ; He fayes it is fo far, That he hath quite forgot how to go there. 4« He knocks at all doors, ftrays and roams ; Nay hath not fo much wit as fome Hones have, Which in the darker! nights point to their homes By fome hid fenfe their Maker gave ; Man is the fhuttle, to whofe winding quell And paifage through thefe looms God order'd motion, but ordain'd no reft. 11 Walkt the other day, to fpend my hour, Into a field, Where I fometimes had feen the foil to yield A gallant flowre ; But Winter now had ruffled all the bowre And curious ftore I knew there heretofore. Yet I, whofe fearch lov'd not to peep and peer Fth* face of things, ii2 SILEX SCINTILLANS Thought with my felf, there might be other fprings Befides this here, Which, lijce cold friends, fees us but once a year ; And fo the flowre Might have fome other bowre. 3- Then taking up what I could neereft fpie, I digg'd about That place where I had feen him to grow out ; And by and by I faw the warm Reclufe alone to lie, Where frefh and green He lived of us unfeen. 4- Many a queftion Intricate and rare Did I there flrow ; But all I could extort was, that he now Did there repair Such lofles as befel him in this air, And would ere long Come forth moft fair and young. 5- This paft, I threw the Clothes quite oer his head ; And Hung with fear Of my own frailty dropt down many a tear Upon his bed; Then fighing whifper'd, Happy are the dead! What peace doth now Rock him ajleep below ! 6. And yet, how few believe fuch doctrine fprings From a poor root, OR SJCRED POEMS. 113 Which all the Winter fleeps here under foot, And hath no wings To raife it to the truth and light of things ; But is itil trod By ev'ry wandring clod. 7- • O Thou ! whofe fpirit did at firfl inflame And warm the dead, And by a facred Incubation fed With life this frame, Which once had neither being, forme, nor name ; Grant I may fo Thy Heps track here below, 8. That in thefe Mafques and fhadows I may fee Thy facred way ; And by thofe hid afcents climb to that day, Which breaks from Thee, Who art in all things, though invifibly ! Shew me thy peace, Thy mercy, love, and eafe ! 9- And from this Care, where dreams and forrows raign, Lead me above, Where Light, Joy, Leifure, and true Comforts move Without all pain ; There, hid in thee, mew me his life again* At whofe dumbe urn Thus all the year I mourn ! ii4 SILEX SCINTILLJNS. Begging. Ing of Mercy, King of Love, In whom I live, in whom I move, Perfect what thou haft begun, Let no night put out this Sun. Grant I may, my chief defire, Long for thee, to thee afpire ! Let my youth, my bloom of dayes Be my Comfort, and thy praife ; That hereafter, when I look O'er the fullyed, iinful book, I may find thy hand therein Wiping out my fhame and fin ! O it is thy only Art To reduce a ftubborn heart ; And fince thine is viclorie, Strong holds mould belong to thee ; Lord, then take it, leave it not Unto my difpofe or lot ; But fince I would not have it mine, O my God, let it be thine ! Jude ver. 24, 25, Now unto him that is able to keep us from falling, and to prefent us faultlefs before the prefence of his glory with exceeding joy, To the only wife God, our Saviour, be glory, and majefty, Dominion and power, now and ever, Amen. End of the First Part. SILEX SCINTILLANS. PART II. Silex Scintillans, &c. Afceniion-day. §Ord Jefus ! with what fweetnefs and delights* Sure, holy hopes, high joys, and quickning flights, Doll thou feed thine ! O thou ! the hand that lifts To him who gives all good and perfect gifts, Thy glorious, bright Afcenfion, though remov'd So many Ages from me, is fo prov'd And by thy Spirit feal'd to me, that I Feel me a fharer in thy vidtory ! I foar and rife Up to the Ikies, Leaving the world their day ; And in my flight For the true light Go feeking all the way ; I greet thy Sepulchre, falute thy Grave, That bleft inclofure, where the Angels gave The firft glad tidings of thy early light, And refurredtion from the earth and night. I fee that morning in thy # Convert's tears, * St, Mary Magdalene* n8 SILEX SCINTILLANS Frefti as the dew, which but this dawning wears. I fmell her fpices ; and her ointment yields, As rich a fcent as the now Primros'd -fields. The Day-liar fmiles, and light with the deceaft Now mines in all the Chambers of the Ealt. What flirs, what polling intercourfe and mirth Of Saints and Angels glorifie the earth ? What fighs, what whifpers, bulie Hops and Hays; Private and holy talk fill all the ways ? They pafs as at the lall great day, and run In their white robes to feek the rifen Sun ; I fee them, hear them, mark their halle, and move Amongll them, with them, wing'd with faith and love. Thy forty days more fecret commerce here After thy death and Funeral, fo clear And indifpu table, fhews to my fight As the Sun doth, which to thofe days gave light. I walk the fields of Bethany, which lhine All now as frefh as Eden, and as fine. Such was the bright world on the firlt feventh day, Before man brought forth fin, and fin decay ; When like a Virgin clad in Flowers and green The pure earth fat, and the fair woods had feen No froll, but flourifiVd in that youthful veil, With which their great Creator had them drell : When Heav'n above them Ihin'd like molten glafs, While all the Planets did unclouded pafs ; And Springs, like difiblv'd Pearls their Streams did pour Ne'er marr'd with floods, nor angered with a fhowre. With thefe fair thoughts I move in this fair place, And the lall Heps of my milde Mailer trace. I fee Him leading out his chofen Train All fad with tears, which like warm Summer rain In filent drops Ileal from their holy eyes, OR SACRED POEMS. 119 Fix'd lately on the Crofs, now on the ikies. And now, eternal Jefus ! thou doll heave Thy blelTed hands to blefs thofe thou doll leave. The cloud doth now receive thee, and their light Having loll thee, behold two men in white ! Two and no more : what two attefi is true, Was thine own anfwer to the llubborn Jew. Come then, thou faithful witnefs ! come, dear Lord, Upon the Clouds again to judge this world ! Afcenfion-Hymn. ' Uil and clay, Man's antient wear, Here you mull flay, But I elfewhere ! Souls fojourn here, but may not reft ; Who will afcend mull be undreft, And yet fome, That know to die Before death come, Walk to the fkie .Even in this life ; but all fuch can Leave behinde them the old Man. If a liar Should ]eave the Sphasre, She mull firfl mar Her flaming wear, And after fall, for in her drefs Of glory, fhe cannot tranfgrefs. izo SILEX SCINT1LLJNS Man of old Within the line Of Eden could Like the Sun fhine, All naked, innocent and bright, And intimate with Heav'n, as light ; But iince he That brightnefs foil'd, His garments be All dark and fpoil'd, And here are left as nothing worth, Till the Refiner's lire breaks forth. Then comes he ! Whofe mighty light Made his cloathes be Like Heav'n all bright ; The Fuller, whofe pure blood did flow, To make ftain'd man more white than fnow. Hee alone And none elfe can Bring bone to bqne And rebuild man ; And by his all-fubduing might Make clay afcend more quick than light. Hey are all gone into the world of light ! And I alone fit lingring here ! Their very memory is fair and bright, And my fad thoughts doth clear. OR SACRED POEMS. 121 It glows and glitters in my cloudy breft Like liars upon fome gloomy grove, Or thofe faint beams in which this hill is dreft After the Sun's remove. I fee them walking in an Air of glory, Whofe light doth trample on my days ; My days, which are at beft but dull and hoary, Meer glimering and decays. O holy hope ! and high humility ! High as the Heavens above ! Thefe are your walks, and you have fhew'd them me To kindle my cold love. Dear, beauteous death ; the Jewel of the Juft ! Shining no where but in the dark ; What myfleries do lie beyond thy duft, Could man outlook that mark ! He that hath found fome fledg'd bird's neft may know - At firfl fight if the bird be flown ; But what fair Dell or Grove he fings in now, That is to him unknown. And yet, as Angels in fome brighter dreams Call to the foul when man doth fleep, So fome ftrange thoughts tranfcend our wonted theams, And into glory peep. If a ftar were confin'd into a Tomb, Her captive flames muft needs burn there ; But when the hand that lockt her up gives room, She'll ihine through all the fphaere. 122 SILEX SCINTILLANS O Father of eternal life, and all Created glories under thee ! Refume thy fpirit from this world of thrall Into true liberty ! Either difperfe thefe mills, which blot and fill My perfpeclive frill as they pafs ; Or elfe remove me hence unto that hill, Where I fhall need no glafs. White Sunday. Ellcome, white day ! a thoufand Suns, Though feen at once, were black to thee ! For after their light darknefs comes ; But thine mines to eternity. Thofe flames, which on the Apoftles rufh'd At this great feaft, and in a tyre Of cloven Tongues their heads all brufh'd, And crown 'd them with Prophetic fire, — Can thefe new lights be like to thofe, Thefe lights of Serpents like the Dove ? Thou hadit no gall ev'n for thy foes, And thy two wings were Grief 'and Love. Though then fome boaft that fire each day, And on Chrift's coat pin all their fhreds ; Not fparing openly to fay, His candle mines upon their heads ; Yet while fome rays of that great light Shine here below within thy Book, OR SACRED POEMS. 123 They never fhall fo blinde my fight But I will know which way to look. For though thou doeft that great light lock, And by this lefTer commerce keep : Yet by thefe glances of the flock I can difcern Wolves from the Sheep. Not but that I have wifhes too, And pray, Thefe laft may be as firft, Or better ; but thou long ago Haft faid, Thefe laft fhould be the worft. Befides, thy method with thy own, Thy own dear people, pens our times ; Our ftories are in theirs fet down, And penalties fpread to our Crimes. Again, if worft and worft implies A State that no redrefs admits, Then from thy Crofs unto thefe days The rule without Exception fits. And yet, as in night's gloomy page One iilent ftar may interline ; So in this laft and lewdeft age Thy antient love on fome may fhine. For though we hourly breathe decays, And our beft note and higheft eafe Is but meer changing of the keys, And a Confumption that doth pleafe ; Yet thou the great eternal Rock Whofe height above all ages fhines, i2 4 SILEX SCINTILLANS Art Hill the fame, and canfl unlock Thy waters to a foul that pines. Since then thou art the fame this day And ever as thou wert of old, And nothing doth thy love allay, But our heart's dead and finful cold ; As thou long lince wert pleas'd to buy Our drown'd eftate, taking the Curfe Upon thy felf, fo to deftroy The knots we tyed upon thy purfe, So let thy grace now make the way Even for thy love ; for by that means We, who are nothing but foul clay, Shall be fine gold which thou didft cleanfe. O come ! refine us with thy fire ! Refine us ! we are at a lofs. Let not thy ftars for Balaam's hire DifTolve into the common drofs ! The Proffer. \E ftill, black Parafites, Flutter no more ; Were it ftill winter, as it was before, You'd make no flights ; But now the dew and Sun have warm'd my bowres, You flie and flock to fuck the flowers. But you would honey make : Thefe buds will wither, - • OR SACRED POEMS. 125 And what you now extract, in harder weather Will ferve to take ; Wife hufbands will, you fay, their wants prevent, Who do not fo too late repent. O poyfonous, fubtile fowls ! The flyes of hell, That buz in every ear, and blow on fouls, Until they fmell, And rot, defcend not here, nor think to Hay ! I've read, who 'twas drove you away. Think you thefe longing eyes, Though fick and Ipent, And almoft famifh'd, ever will confent To leave thofe ikies, That glafs of fouls and fpirits, where well dreft They ihine in white, like liars, and reft. Shall my Ihort hour, my inch, My one poor fand, And crum of life now ready to difband, Revolt and flinch ; And having born the burthen all the day, Now call at night my Crown away ? No, No ; I am not he ; Go feek elfe where ! I Ikill not your line tinfel, and falfe hair, Your Sorcery, And fmooth feducements : Fie not Huff my ilory With your poor Commonwealth and glory. There are that will fow tares And fcatter death iz6 SILEX SC INTILLANS Amongft the quick, felling their fouls and breath For any wares ; But when thy Mailer comes, they'll finde and fee, There's a reward for them and thee. Then keep the antient way! Spit out their phlegm, And fill thy breft with home ; think on thy dream : A calm, bright day ! A Land of flowers and fpices ! the word given. If tbefe be fair y O what is Heaven! Cock-crowing. Ather of lights ! what Sunnie feed, What glance of day haft thou confin'd Into this bird ? To all the breed This bufie Ray thou haft affign'd ; Their magnetifme works all night, And dreams of Paradife and light. Their eyes watch for the morning-hue, Their little grain expelling night So fhines and lings, as if it knew The path unto the houfe of light. It feems their candle, howe'r done, Was tinn'd and lighted at the funne. If fuch a tincture, fiich a touch, So firm a longing can impowre, Shall thy own image think it much To watch for thy appearing hour ? OR SACRED POEMS. 127 If a meer blaft fo fill the fail, Shall not the breath of God prevail ? O thou immortall light and heat ! Whofe hand fo fhines through all this frame, That by the beauty of the feat, We plainly fee who made the fame. Seeing thy feed abides in me, Dwell thou in it, and I in thee ! To fleep without thee is to die ; Yea, 'tis a death partakes of hell : For where thou doit not clofe the eye It never opens, I can tell. In fuch a dark, ^Egyptian border, The fhades of death dwell and diforder. If joyes, and hopes, and earneft throes, And hearts, whofe Pulfe beats ftill for light, Are given to birds ; who, but thee, knows A love-lick foul's exalted flight ? Can fouls be tracFd by any eye But his, who gave them wings to flie ? Onely this Veyle which thou haft broke, And muft be broken yet in me, This veyle, I fay, is all the cloke And cloud which fhadows me from thee. This veyle thy full-ey'd love denies, And onely gleams and fractions fpies. O take it off! make no delay ; But brum me with thy light, that I May fhine unto a perfect day,* And warme me at thy glorious Eye ! O take it off! or till it flee, Though with no Lilie, flay with me ! 128 SILEX SCINTILLANS The Starre. Hat -ever 'tis, whofe beauty here below Attracts thee thus, and makes thee ftream and flow, And wind and curie, and wink and fmile, Shifting thy gate and guile, Though thy clofe commerce nought at all imbarrs My prefent fearch, for Eagles eye not ftarrs ; And frill the lefler by the beft And higheft good is bleft ; Yet, feeing all things that fubfift and be Have their CommilTions from Divinitie, And teach us duty, I will fee What man may learn from thee. Firft, I am fure, the Subject fo refpected Is well-difpofed ; for bodies, once infected, Deprav'd, or dead, can have with thee No hold, nor fympathie. Next, there's in it a reftlefs, pure defire And longing for thy bright and vitall fire, Defire that never will be quench'd, Nor can be writh'd nor wrench'd. Thefe are the Magnets* which fo flrongly move And work all night upon thy light and love ; OR SACRED POEMS. 129 As beauteous fhapes, we know not why, Command and guide the eye. For where defire, celeftiall, pure defire, Hath taken root, and grows, and doth not tire, There God a Commerce Hates, and flieds His Secret on their heads. This is the Heart he craves ; and who fo will But give it him, and grudge not ; he mail feel That God is true, as herbs unfeen Put on their youth and green. The Palm-tree. [ Eare friend, fit down, and bear awhile this made, As I have yours long fince ; This Plant, you fee So preft and bow'd, before fin did degrade Both you and it, had equall liberty With other trees : but now fhut from the breath And air of Eden y like a mal-content It thrives no where. This makes thefe weights like death And fin, hang at him ; for the more he's bent The more he grows. Celeftial natures Hill Afpire for home; This Solomon of old By flowers and carvings and myfterious ikill Of Wings, and Cherubims> and Palms foretold. %%q SILEX SCINTILLJNS This is the life which hid above with Chrift In God, doth always hidden multiply, And fpring, and grow, a tree ne'r to be priced, A Tree, whofe fruit is immortality. Here fpirits that have run their race, and fought, And won the fight, and have not feared the frowns Nor lov'd the fmiles of greatnefs, but have wrought Their mailer's will, meet to receive their Crowns. Here is the patience of the Saints : this Tree Is water'd by their tears, as flowers are fed With dew by night ; but One you cannot fee Sits here, and numbers all the tears they fhed. Here is their faith too, which if you will keep When we two part, I will a journey make To pluck a Garland hence while you do fleep, And weave it for your head againft you wake. J°y- x E dumb, coarfe meafures ; jar no more ; to me There is no difcord but your harmony, Falfe, jugling founds ; a grone well dreft where care Moves in difguife, and lighs afflict the air. Sorrows in white ; griefs tun'd ; a fugerd Dofis Of Wormwood, and a Death's-head crown'd with Rofes. He weighs not your forc'd accents, who can have A leflbn plaid him by a winde or wave. OR SACRED POEMS. 131 Such numbers tell their days, whofe fpirits be Lull'd by thofe Charmers to a Lethargy. But as for thee, whofe faults long iince require More eyes than flars, whofe breath, could it afpire To equal winds, would prove too fhort : Thou hall Another mirth, a mirth, though overcaft With clouds and rain, yet full as calm and fine As thofe clear heights which above tempefts fhine. Therefore while the various fhowers Kill and cure the tender flowers, While the winds refrefh the year Now with clouds, now making clear, Be fure under pains of death To ply both thine eyes and breath. As leafs in Bowers Whifper their hours, And Hermit-wells Drop in their Cells : So in flghs and unfeen tears Pafs thy folitary years, And going hence leave written on fome Tree, Sighs make joy Jure, and /baking f aft em thee. The Favour. Thy bright looks ! thy glance of love Shown, and but fhown^.me from above ! Rare looks !. that can difpenfe fuch joy As without wooing wins the coy, And makes him mourn, and pine and dye,. Like a ftarv'd Eaglet, for thine eye. Some kinde herbs here, though low and far, 132 SILEX SCINTILLANS Watch for, and know their loving ftar. O let no ftar compare with thee ! Nor any herb out-duty me ! So fhall my nights and mornings be Thy time to fhine, and mine to fee. The Garland. • Hou, who doft flow and flourifh here below, To whom a falling ftar and nine dayes' glory, [fhew, Or fome frail beauty makes the braveft Hark, and make ufe of this enfuing ftory. When firft my youthfull, fmfull age Grew mafter of my wayes, Appointing errour for my Page, And darknefle for my dayes ; I flurig away, and with full crie Of wild affections, rid In poft for pleafures, bent to trie All gamefters that would bid. I played with fire, did counfell fpurn, Made life my common ftake ; But never thought that fire would burn, Or that a foul could ake. Glorious deceptions, gilded mifts, Falfe joyes, phantaftick flights, Peeces of fackcloth with filk lifts, Thefe were my prime delights. I fought choice bowres, haunted the ipring, Cull'd flowres and made me pofies ; OR SACRED POEMS. 133 Gave my fond humours their full wing, And crown'd my head with Rofes. But at the height of this Careire I met with a dead man, Who, noting well my vain Abear, Thus unto me began : Deiift, fond fool, be not undone, What thou hall cut to day Will fade at night, and with this Sun Quite vaniih and decay. Flowres gathered in this world, die here ; if thou Wouldft have a wreath that fade snot, let them grow, And grow for thee. Who fp ares them here,Jhallfind A Garland, where comes neither rain, nor wind. Love-fick. \ ESUS, my life ! how fhall I truly love thee ? O that thy Spirit would fo ftrongly move me; That thou wert pleafed to filed thy grace fo farr As to make man all pure love, flefh a ftar ! A ftar that would ne'r fet, but ever rife, So rife and run, as to out-run thefe ikies, Thefe narrow ikies (narrow to me) that barre, So barre me in, that I am ftill at warre, At conftant warre with them. O come and rend, Or bow the heavens ! Lord bow them and defcend, And at thy prefence make thefe mountains flow, Thefe mountains of cold Ice in me ! Thou art i 3 4 SILEX SCINTILLANS Refining fire, O then refine my heart, My foul, foul heart ! Thou art immortall heat ; Heat motion gives ; Then warm it, till it beat, So beat for thee, till thou in mercy hear, So hear, that thou mull open : open to A finfull wretch, A wretch that caus'd thy woe ; Thy woe, who caus'd his weal ; fo far his weal That thou forgott'ft thine own, for thou didft feal Mine with thy blood, thy blood which makes thee mine, Mine ever, ever ; And me ever thine. Trinity-Sunday. Holy, blefTed, glorious three, Eternall witneffes that be In heaven, One God in trinitie ! As here on earth, when men with-ftood, The Spirit, Water, and the Blood, Made my Lord's Incarnation good : So let the Anty-types in me Elected, bought, and feal'd for free, Be own'd, fav'd, Sainted by you three ! OR SACRED POEMS. 135 Pfalme 104. P, O my foul, and bleffe the Lord ! O God, My God, how great, how very great art thou! Honour and majefty have their abode With thee, and crown thy brow. Thou cloath'ft thy felf with light, as with a robe, And the high, glorious heav'ns thy mighty hand Doth fpread like curtains round about this globe Of Air, and Sea, and Land. The beams of thy bright Chambers thou doft, lay In the deep waters, which no eye can find ; The clouds thy chariots are, and thy path-way The wings of the fwift wind. In thy celeftiall, gladfome meflages . Difpatch'd to holy fouls, rick with defire And love of thee, each willing Angel is Thy minifter in fire. Thy arm unmoveable for ever laid And founded the firm earth ; then with the deep As with a vail thou hidft it ; thy floods plaid Above the mountains fteep. At thy rebuke they fled, at the known voice Of their Lord's thunder they retir'd apace : Some up the mountains pall by fecret ways, Some downwards to their place. 136 S1LEX SCINTILLANS For thou to them a bound haft fet, a bound, Which, though but fand, keeps in and curbs whole feas : There all their fury, foame and hideous found Muft languifh and decreafe* And as thy care bounds thefe, fo thy rich love Doth broach the earth ; and leffer brooks lets forth, Which run from hills to valleys, and improve Their pleafure and their worth. Thefe to the beafts of every field give drink ; There the wilde affes fwallow the cool fpring r And birds amongft the branches on their brink Their dwellings have and fing. Thou from thy upper Springs above, from thofe Chambers of rain, where Heav'n's large bottles lie, Doeft water the parch'd hills, whofe breaches clofe Heal'd by the fhowers from high. Grafs for the cattel, and herbs for man's ufe Thou mak'ft to grow ; thefe, bleft by thee, the earth Brings forth, with wine, oyl, bread : All which infufe To man's heart ftrength and mirth. Thou giv'ft the trees their greennefs, ev'n to thofe Cedars in Lebanon, in whofe thick boughs The birds their nefts build ; though the Stork doth The fir-trees for her houfe. [choofe To the wilde goats the high hills ferve for folds, The rocks give Conies a retyring place : Above them the cool Moon her known courfe holds, And the Sun runs his race. OR SACRED POEMS. 137 Thou makeft darknefs, and then comes the night ; In whofe thick ihades and filence each wilde beaft Creeps forth, and pinch'd for food, with fcent and fight Hunts in an eager queft. The Lyon's whelps impatient of delay Roar in the covert of the woods, and feek Their meat from thee, who doeft appoint the prey, And feed'ft them all the week. This paft ; the Sun mines on the earth ; and they Retire into their dens ; Man goes abroad Unto his work, and at the clofe of day Returns home with his load. O Lord my God, how many and how rare Are thy great works ! In wifdom haft thou made Them all ; and this the earth, and every blade Of grafs we tread declare. So doth the deep and wide fea, wherein are Innumerable, creeping things, both fmall And great : there fhips go, and the fhipmen's fear, The comely fpacious Whale. Thefe all upon thee wait, that thou maift feed Them in due feafon : what thou giv'ft they take ; Thy bounteous open hand helps them at need, And plenteous meals they make. When thou doeft hide thy face (thy face which keeps All things in being) they confume and mourn : When thou with-draw'ft their breath their vigour fleeps, And they to duft return. 138 SILEX SCINTILLANS Thou fend'ft thy fpirit forth, and they revive, The frozen earth's dead face thou doft renew. Thus thou thy glory through the world doft drive, And to thy works art true. Thine eyes behold the earth, and the whole ftage Is mov'd and trembles, the hills melt and fmoke With thy leaft touch ; lightnings and winds that rage At thy rebuke are broke. Therefore as long as thou wilt give me breath I will in fongs to thy great name imploy That gift of thine, and to my day of death Thou fhalt be all my joy. He fpice my thoughts with thee, and from thy word Gather true comforts ; but the wicked liver Shall be confum'd. O my foul, blefs thy Lord ! Yea, blefTe thou him for ever ! The Bird. |Ither thou com'ft. The bulie wind all night Blew through thy lodging, where thy own warm wing Thy pillow was. Many a fullen florin, For which coarfe man feems much the fitter born, Rain'd on thy bed And harmlefs head ; And now as frefh and chearful as the light Thy little heart in early hymns doth ling Unto that Providence, whofe unfeen arm 1 OR SACRED POEMS. 139 Curb'd them, and cloath'd thee well and warm. All things that be praife Him ; and had Their lefTon taught them when firft made. So hills and valleys into ringing break ; And though poor Hones have neither fpeech nor tongue, While active winds and ftreams both run and fpeak, Yet Hones are deep in admiration. Thus Praife and Prayer here beneath the Sun Make lefTer mornings, when the great are done. For each inclofed Spirit is a ftar Inlightning his own little fphaere, Whofe light, though fetcht and borrowed from far, Both mornings makes and evenings there. But as thefe Birds of light make a land glad, Chirping their folemn Matins on each, tree : So in the fhades of night fome dark fowls be, Whofe heavy notes make all that hear them fad. The Turtle then in Palm-trees mourns, While Owls and Satyrs howl ; . The pleafant Land to brimftone turns, And all her Hreams grow foul. Brightnefs and mirth, and love and faith, all flye, Till the Day-fpring breaks forth again from high. The Timber. Ure thou didft flourifh once ! and many Springs, Many bright mornings, much dew, many fhowers Ho S1LEX SCINTILLJNS Paft ore thy head : many light Hearts and Wings, Which now are dead, lodg'd in my living bowers. And ftill a new fucceffion lings and flies ; Frefh Groves grow up, and their green branches ihoot Towards the old and ftill enduring ikies ; While the low Violet thrives at their root. But thou beneath the fad and heavy Line Of death doth wafte all fenfelefs, cold and dark ; Where not fo much as dreams of light may fhine, Nor any thought of greennefs, leaf or bark. And yet, as if fome deep hate and diflent, Bred in thy growth betwixt high winds and thee, Were ftill alive, thou doft great ftorms refent, Before they come, and know'ft how near they be. Elfe all at reft thou lyeft, and the fierce breath Of tempefts can no more difturb thy eafe ; But this thy ftrange refentment after death Means onely thofe who broke in life thy peace. So murthered man, when lovely life is done, And his blood freez'd, keeps in the Center ftill Some fecret fenfe, which makes the dead blood run At his approach that did the body kill. And is there any murth'rer worfe than lin ? Or any ftorms more foul than a lewd life ? Or what Refentient can work more within, Than true remorfe, when with paft fins at ftrife ? He that hath left life's vain joys and vain care, And truly hates to be detain'd on earth, OR SACRED POEMS. 141 Hath got an houfe where many manfions are, And keeps his foul unto eternal mirth. But though thus dead unto the world, and ceas'd From fin, he walks a narrow, private way ; Yet grief and old wounds make him fore difpleas'd, And all his life a rainy, weeping day. For though he mould forfake the world, and live As meer a ftranger, as men long fince dead ; Yet joy it felf will make a right foul grieve To think, he mould be fo long vainly led. But as ftiades fet off light, fo tears and grief, Though of themfelves but a fad blubber'd ftory, By fhewing the fin great, fhew the relief Far greater, and fo fpeak my Saviour's glory. If my way lies through deferts and wilde woods, Where all the Land with fcorching heat is curft ; Better the pools fhould flow with rain and floods To fill my bottle than I die with thirft. Bleft fhowers they are, and ftreams fent from above, Begetting Virgins where they ufe to flow ; The trees of life no other waters love, Than upper fprings, and none elfe make them grow. But thefe chafte fountains flow not till we dye ; Some drops may fall before, but a clear fpring And ever running, till we leave to fling Dirt in her way, will keep above the fkie. Rom. Cap. 6. ver. 7. He that is dead, is freed from Jin. H2 SILEX SCINTILLANS The Jews. 'Hen the fair year Of your Deliverer comes, And that long froft which now benums Your hearts fhall thaw ; when Angels here Shall yet to man appear, And familiarly confer Beneath the Oke and Juniper ; When the bright Dove, Which now thefe many, many Springs Hath kept above, Shall with fpread wings Defcend, and living waters flow To make drie duft, and dead trees grow ; O then that I Might live, and fee the Olive bear Her proper branches ! which now lie Scattered each where ; And without root and fap, decay Caft by the hufband-man away. And fure it is not far ! For as your faft and foul decays, Forerunning the bright morning liar, Did fadly note His healing rayes Would fhine elfewhere, fince you were blind, And would be crofs, when God was kinde,— So by all figns Our fulnefs too is now come in ; And the fame Sun, which here declines And fets, will few hours hence begin OR SACRED POEMS. 143 To rife on you again, and look Towards old Mamre and EficoFs brook. For furely he Who lov'd the world fo, as to give His onely Son to make it free, Whofe fpirit too doth mourn and grieve To fee man loft, will for old love From your dark hearts this veil remove. Faith fojourn'd firft on earth in you, You were the dear and chofen ftock : The Arm of God, glorious and true, ♦ Was firft reveal'd to be your rock. You were the eldeft childe, and when Your ftony hearts defpifed love, The youngeft, ev'n the Gentiles, then Were chear'd your jealoufie to move. Thus, Righteous Father ! doeft thou deal With Brutifh men ; Thy gifts go round By turns, and timely, and fo heal - The loft Son by the newly found. Begging. Ye Do not go ! thou know'ft, Fll dye ! My Spring and Fall are in thy book ! Or, if thou goeft, do not deny To lend me, though from far, one look! My fins long fmce have made thee ftrange, A very ftranger unto me ; H4 SILEX SCINTILLANS No morning-meetings fince this change, Nor evening- walks have I with thee. Why is my God thus flow and cold, When I am. moll, moil fick and fad ? Well fare thole blelTed days of old, When thou didfl hear the weeping Lad!* O do not thou do as I did, Do not defpife a Love-lick heart ! What though fome clouds defiance bid, Thy Sun mull Ihine in every part. Though I have fpoiPd, O fpoil not thou ! Hate not thine own dear gift and token ! Poor birds ling bell, and prettieil Ihow, When their nell is fain and broken. Dear Lord ! rellore thy ancient peace, Thy quikning friendlhip, mans bright wealth ! And if thou wilt not give me eafe From licknelTe, give my fpirit health ! Palm-Sunday. Ome, drop your branches, llrow the way, Plants of the day ! Whom fufferings make moll green and * IJhmaeh OR SACRED POEMS. 145 The King of grief, the man of forrow, Weeping ftill like the wet morrow, Your fhades and frefhnefs comes to borrow. Put on, put on your beft array ; Let the joy'd road make holy-day, And flowers, that into fields do ftray Or fecret groves, keep the high-way. Trees, flowers and herbs ; birds, beads and ftones, That fince man fell expect with groans To fee the Lamb, come all at once, Lift up your heads and leave your moans ! For here comes he Whofe death will be Man's life, and your full liberty. Hark ! how the children fhrill and high Hofanna cry ; Their joys provoke the diflant fkie, Where thrones and Seraphins reply ; And their own Angels fhine and ring In a bright ring : Such yong, fweet mirth Makes heaven and earth Joyn in a joyful Symphony. The harmlefs, yong and happy Afs, Seen long before* this came to pafs, Is in thefe joys an high partaker, Ordain'd and made to bear his Maker. Dear feaft of Palms, of Flowers and Dew ! Whofe fruitful dawn fheds hopes and lights ; * Zecbariah, chap. 9. and then M i62 SILEX SCINT1LLANS Our body's : poyfons that intreat With fatal fweetnefs, till we eat ; How artfully do you deftroy, That kill with fmiles and feeming joy ! If all the fubtilties of vice Stood bare before unpractic'd eyes, And every a6l fhe doth commence Had writ down its fad confequence, Yet would not men grant, their ill fate Lodged in thofe falfe looks, till too late. holy, happy, healthy heaven, Where all is pure, where all is even, Plain, harmlefs,, faithful, fair and bright, But what Earth breaths againft thy light I How bleft had men been, had their Sire Liv'd ftill in league with thy chafte fire ; Nor made life through her long defcents A flave to luftful Elements !. 1 did once read in an old book Soil'd with many a weeping look, That the feeds offoulforrows be The fine Ji things that are to fee. So that fam'd fruit, which made all dye Seem'd fair unto the woman's eye* If thefe fupplanters in the made Of Paradife could make man fade, How in this world mould they deter, This world, their fellow-murtherer ! And why then grieve we to be fent Home by our firlt fair punifhment, Without addition to our woes And lingring wounds from weaker foes ; Since that doth quickly freedom win, For he that's dead is freed from fin P OR SACRED POEMS. O that I were winged and free And quite undreft juft now with thee, Where freed fouls dwell by living fountains On everlafting, fpicy mountains ! Alas ! my God ! take home thy fheep ; This world but laughs at thofe that weep. 163 The Stone. yojh. chap. 24. ver. 2J. Have it now : But where to act that none fhall know ; Where I fhall have no caufe to fear An eye or ear, What man will fhow ? If nights, and fhades, and fecret rooms, Silent as tombs, Will not conceal nor affent to My dark deligns, what fhall I do ? Man I can bribe, and woman will Confent to any gainful ill, But thefe dumb creatures are fo true, No gold nor gifts can them fubdue. Hedges have ears, faith the old footh, And ev'ry bujh is fomething s booth ; This cautious fools miftake, and fear Nothing but man when ambufh'd there. But I Alas ! Was fhown one day in a ftrange glafs That bufie commerce kept between God and his Creatures, though unfeen. 1 64 SILEX SCINTILLANS They hear, fee, fpeak, And into loud difcoveries break, As loud as blood. Not that God needs Intelligence, whofe fpirit feeds All things with life, before whofe eye, Hell and all hearts Hark naked lye. But*he that judge th as he hears, He that accufeth none, fo fleers His righteous courfe, that though he knows All that man doth, conceals or fhows, Yet will not he by his own light, Though both all-feeing and all right, Condemn men ; but will try them by A procefs, which ev'n man's own eye Mull needs acknowledge to be jufl. Hence fand and dull Are fhak'd for witneffes, and Hones, Which fome think dead, fhall all at once With one attefling voice detect Thofe fecret lins we leafl fufpecl:. For know, wilde men, that when you erre Each thing turns Scribe and Regifler, And in obedience to his Lord, Doth your moll private fins record. The Law delivered to the Jews, Who promis'd much, but did refufe Performance, will for that fame deed Againfl them by & ft one proceed; Whofe fubflance, though 'tis hard enough, Will prove their hearts more fliff and tuff. But now, fince God on himfelf took * John chap. 5. ver. 30, 45. OR SACRED POEMS. 165 What all mankinde could never brook, If any (for He all invites) His eafie yoke rejects or flights, The Go/pel then, for 'tis His word, And not himfelf* fhall judge the world, Will by loofe Duft that man arraign, As one than duft more vile and vain. The dwelling-place. S. John, chap. 1. ver. 38, 39. £Hat happy, fee ret fountain, Fair made, or mountain, Whofe undifcover'd virgin glory Boafts it this day, though not in ftory, Was then thy dwelling ? did fome cloud, Fix'd to a Tent, defcend and fhrowd My diftreft Lord ? or did a ftar, Beckon'd by thee, though high and far, In fparkling fmiles hafte gladly down To lodge light and increafe her own ? My dear, dear God ! I do not know What lodged thee then, nor where, nor how ; But I am fure thou doft now come Oft to a narrow, homely room, Where thou too haft but the leaft part ; My God, I mean my finful heart. * St. John, chap. 12. ver. 47, 48. 266 SILEX SCINTILLANS The Men of War. S. Luke, chap. 23. ver. 1 1. ' F any have an ear, Saith holy* John, then let him hear ! He, that into Captivity Leads others, Jhall a Captive be. Who with the fw or d doth others kill, A /word Jhall his blood likewife fpill. Here is the patience of the Saints, And the true faith which never faints. Were not thy word, dear Lord ! my light, How would I run to endlefs night, And perfecuting thee and thine, Enact for Saints myfelf and mine ! But now enlighten'd thus by thee, I dare not think fuch villany ; Nor for a temporal felf-end Succefsful wickednefs commend. For in this bright, inftru&ing verfe Thy Saints are not the Conquerors ; But patient, meek, and overcome Like thee, when fet at naught and dumb. Armies thou haft in Heaven, which fight And follow thee all cloath'd in white; But here on earth, though thou hadft need, Thou wouldft no legions, but wouldft bleed. The fword wherewith thou doll command Is in thy mouth, not in thy hand, * Revel, cap. 13. ver. 10. OR SACRED POEMS. 167 And all thy Saints do overcome By thy blood, and their Martyrdom. But feeing Soldiers long ago Did fpit on thee, and fmote thee too ; Crown'd thee with thorns, and bow'd the knee, But in contempt, as Hill we fee, Pie marvel not at ought they do, Becaufe they us'd my Savior fo ; Since of my Lord they had their will, The fervant mull not take it ill. Dear J ejus, give me patience here, And faith to fee my Crown as near, And almofl reach'd, becaufe 'tis fure If I hold fail, and flight the Lure.. Give me humility and peace, Contented thoughts, innoxious eafe, A fweet, revengelefs, quiet minde, And to my greateil haters kinde. Give me, my God ! a heart as milde And plain, as when I was a childe. That when thy Throne is Jet, and all Thefe Conquerors before it fall, I may be found preferv'd by thee Amongil that chofen company, Who by no blood here overcame But the blood of the blejjed Lamb, i68 SILEX SCINTILLANS The Afs. St. Matt. 21. *Hou! who didft place me in this buiie ftreet Of flefh and blood, where two ways meet : The One of goodnefs, peace and life, The other of death, fin and ft rife ; Where frail vifibles rule the minde, And prefent things flnde men moil kinde ; Where obfcure cares the mean defeat, And fplendid vice deftroys the great/ As thou didft fet no law for me, But that of perfecl liberty, Which neither tyres, nor doth corrode, But is a Pillow y not a Load : So give me grace ever to reft, And build on it becaufe the beft ; Teach both mine eyes and feet to move Within thofe bounds fet by thy love ; Grant I may foft and lowly be, And minde thofe things I cannot fee ; Tye me to faith, though above reafon, Who queftion power they fpeak treafon : Let me, thy Afs, be onely wife To carry, not fearch, myfteries. Who carries thee is by thee led ; Who argues follows his own head. To check bad motions, keep me ftill Amongft the dead, where thriving ill, Without his brags and conquefts, lies, OR SJCRED POEMS. 169 And truth, opprefl here, gets the prize. At all times, whatfoe'r I do Let me not fail to queftion, who Shares in the aft, and puts me to't ? And if not thou, let not me do't. Above all, make me love the poor, Thofe burthens to the rich man's door ; Let me admire thofe, and be kinde To low eflates and a low minde. If the world offers to me nought, That by thy book muft not be fought, Or, though it mould be lawful, may Prove not expedient for thy way, To ihun that peril let thy grace Prevail with me to fhun the place ; Let me be wife to pleafe thee flill, And let men call me what they will. When thus thy milde, inftructing hand Findes thy poor foal at thy command, When he from wilde is become wife, And flights that moil, which men mofl prize ; When all things here to thirties turn Pricking his lips, till he doth mourn And hang the head, iighing for thofe P allures of life, where the Lamb goes : O then, jufl then ! break or untye Thefe bonds, this fad captivity, This leaden Hate which men mifcal Being and life, but is dead thrall. And when, O God ! the Afs is free, In a ilate known to none but thee, O let him by his Lord be led To living fprings, and there be fed, Where light, joy, health, and perfect peace i;o SILEX SCINTILLANS Shut out all pain and each difeafe ; Where death and frailty are forgotten And bones rejoyce, which once were broken ! The hidden Treafure. S. Matt. 13. 44. lHat can the man do thatfucceeds the* King f Even what was done before, and no new thing. Who fhews me but one grain of fincere light? Falfe ftars and fire-drakes, and deceits of night, Set forth to fool and foil thee, do not boaft ; Such Coal-flames fhew but Kitchin-rooms at moll. And thofe I faw fearch'd through ; yea thofe and all, That thefe three thoufand years time did let fall To blinde the eyes of lookers-back, and I Now all is done, iinde all is vanity. Thofe fecret fearches which afflict the wife, Paths that are hidden from the Vultures eyes, I faw at diftance, and where grows that fruit Which others onely grope for and difpute. The world's lov'd wifdom, for the world's friends think There is none elfe, did not the dreadful brink And precipice it leads to bid me flie None could with more advantage ufe than I. Man's favourite fins, thofe tainting appetites, Which nature breeds, and fome fine clay invites, * Ecclejiaftes, chap. 2. 12. OR SJCRED POEMS. 171 With all their foft, kinde arts and eafie (trains, Which ftrongly operate, though without pains, Did not a greater beauty rule mine eyes, None would more dote on, nor fo foon entice. But fince thefe fweets are fowre and poyfon'd here, Where the impure feeds flourifh all the year, And private Tapers will but help to ftray Ev'n thofe, who by them would finde out the day, I'le ieal my eyes up, and to thy commands Submit my wilde heart, and reftrain my hands ; I will do nothing, nothing know, nor fee But what thou bidft, and fhew'ft, and teacheft me. Look what thou gav'ft ; all that I do reftore, But for one thing, thou purchas'd once before. Childe-hood. Cannot reach it ; and my driving eye Dazles at it, as at eternity. Were now that Chronicle alive, Thofe white defigns which children drive, And the thoughts of each harmlefs hour, With their content too in my pow'r, Quickly would I make my path even, And by meer playing go to Heaven. Why mould men love A Wolf, more than a Lamb or Dove ? Or choofe hell-fire and brimftone ftreams Before bright-ftars and God's own beams ? Who kifTeth thorns will hurt his face, But flowers do both refrefh and grace ; 172 SILEX SCINTILLANS And fweetly living (fie on men ! ) Are, when dead, medicinal then. If feeing much mould make ftaid eyes, And long experience mould make wife ; Since all that age doth teach is ill, Why mould I not love childe-hood ftill ? Why, if I fee a rock or fhelf, Shall I from thence call down my felf, Or by complying with the world, From the fame precipice be hurl'd ? Thofe obfervations are but foul, Which make me wife to lofe my foul. And yet the Practice worldlings call Bufinefs and weighty action all, Checking the poor childe for his play, But gravely call themfelves away. Dear, harmlefs age ! the fhort, fwift fpan Where weeping virtue parts with man ; Where love without lull dwells, and bends What way we pleafe without felf-ends. An age of myfleries ! which he Mull live twice that would God's face fee ; Which Angels guard, and with it play, Angels ! which foul men drive away. How do I fludy now, and fcan Thee more than ere I fludyed man, And onely fee through a long night Thy edges and thy bordering light ! O for thy Center and mid-day ! For fure that is the narrow way ! OR SACRED POEMS. *73 The Night. John 3. 2. Hrough that pure Virgin-Jhrine, That facred vail drawn o'er thy glorious noon, That men might look and live, as Glo- worms mine, And face the Moon, Wife Nicodemus faw fuch light As made him know his God by night. Moft bleft believer he ! Who in that land of darknefs and blind e eyes Thy long expected healing wings could fee, When thou didft rife ; And, what can never more be done, Did at mid-night fpeak with the Sun ! O who will tell me, where He found thee at that dead and filent hour ? What hallow'd folitary ground did bear So rare a flower ; Within whofe facred leafs did lie The fulnefs of the Deity ? No mercy-feat of gold, To dead and dully Cherub, nor carved Hone, But his own living works, did my Lord hold And lodge alone ; 174 SILEX SCINTILLANS Where trees and herbs did watch and peep And wonder, while the Jews did fleep. Dear night ! this world's defeat ; The flop to bufie fools ; care's check and curb ; The day of Spirits ; my foul's calm retreat Which none diflurb ! Cbrift's * progrefs, and his prayer time ; The hours to which high Heaven doth chime. God's filent, fearching flight : When my Lord's head is filled with dew, and all His locks are wet with the clear drops of night; His ftill, foft call; His knocking time ; The foul's dumb watch, When fpirits their Fair Kindred catch. Were all my loud, evil days Calm and unhaunted as is thy dark Tent, Whofe peace but by fome Angel's wing or voice Is feldom rent ; Then I in Heaven all the long year Would keep, and never wander here. But living where the Sun Doth all things wake, and where all mix and tyre Themfelves and others, I confent and run To cv 9 ry myre ; And by this world's ill guiding light, Erre more than I can do by night. There is in God, fome fay, A deep, but dazzling darknefs ; As men here * Mark, chap. I. 35, S. Luke, chap. 21. 37. OR SACRED POEMS. Say it is late and dufky, becaufe they See not all clear. O for that night ! where I in Him Might live invifible and dim ! *75 Abels blood- Ad, purple well ! whofe bubling eye Did firft againft a Murth'rer cry ; Whofe ftreams ftill vocal, Hill complain Of bloody Cain ; And now at evening are as red As in the morning w T hen firft fried. If fingle thou, Though fingle voices are but low, Could'ft fuch a fhrill and long cry rear As fpeaks ftill in thy maker's ear, What thunders fhall thofe men arraign Who cannot count thofe they have flain, Who bath not in a fhallow flood, But in a deep, wide fea of blood ? A fea, whofe lowd waves cannot fleep, But Deep ftill calleth upon deep : Whofe urgent found, like unto that Of many waters, beateth at The everlafting doors above, Where fouls behinde the altar move, And with one ftrong, inceffant cry Inquire How long? of the moil High? Almighty Judge ! At whofe juft laws no juft men grudge \ Whofe bleifed, fweet commands do pour 176 SILEX SCINTILLANS. Comforts and joys, and hopes each hour On thofe that keep them ; O accept Of his vow'd heart, whom thou hall kept From bloody men ! and grant, I may That fworn memorial duly pay To thy bright arm, which was my light And leader through thick death and night ! Aye may that flood, That proudly fpilt and defpis'd blood, Speechlefs and calm as Infants fleep ! Or if it watch, forgive and weep For thofe that fpilt it ! May no cries From the low earth to Heaven rife, But what like his, whofe blood peace brings, Shall when they rife, /peak better things Than AbePs doth ! may Abel be Still fingle heard, while thefe agree With his milde blood in voice and will, Who pray'd for thofe that did him kill ! Righteoufnefs. ^Air, folitary path ! Whofe bleffed fhades The old, white Prophets planted firfl and dreft; Leaving for us, whofe goodnefs quickly fades, A fhelter all the way* and bowers to reft ; Who is* the man that walks in thee ? who loves HeavVs fecret folitude, thofe fair abodes, OR SACRED POEMS. 177 Where turtles build, and carelefe fparrows move, Without to morrow's evils and future loads ? Who hath the upright heart, the iingle eye, The clean, pure hand, which never medled pitch ? Who fees Invijibles, and doth comply With hidden treafures that make truly rich ? He that doth feek and love The things above, Whofe fpirit ever poor is meek and low ; Who Ample ftill and wife, Still homewards flies, Quick to advance, and to retreat moll flow. Whofe acts, words and pretence Have all one fenfe, One aim and end ; who walks not by his fight : Whofe eyes are both put out, And goes about Guided by faith, not by exterior light. Who fpills no blood, nor fpreds Thorns in the beds Of the diilreft, hailing their overthrow ; Making the time they had Bitter and fad, Like Chronic pains, which furely kill, though flow. Who knows earth nothing hath Worth love or wrath, But in his hope and Rock is ever glad. Who feeks and follows peace, When with the eafe And health of confcience it is to be had. 178 SILEX SCINTILLANS Who bears his crofs with joy, And doth imploy His heart and tongue in prayers for his foes ; Who lends not to be paid, And gives full aid Without that bribe which Ufurers impofe. Who never looks on man Fearful and wan, But firmly trufts in God ; the great man's meafure Though high and haughty muft Be ta'en in dull ; But the good man is God's peculiar treafure. Who doth thus, and doth not Thefe good deeds blot With bad, or with neglect ; and heaps not wrath By fecret filth, nor feeds Some fnake, or weeds, Cheating himfelf ; That man walks in this path. Anguifh. |Y God and King ! to thee I bow my knee ; I bow my troubled foul, and greet With my foul heart thy holy feet. Caft it, or tread it ! It mall do Even what thou wilt, and praife thee too. My God, could I weep blood, Gladly I would ; OR SACRED POEMS. 179 Or if thou wilt give me that Art, Which through the eyes pours out the heart, I will exhauft it all, and make My felf all tears, a weeping lake. O ! 'tis an eafie thing To write and iing ; But to write true, unfeigned verfe Is very hard ! O God, difperfe Thefe weights, and give my ipirit leave To ac"l as well as to conceive ! O my God, hear my cry ; Or let me dye ! Tears. When my God, my glory, brings His white and holy train Unto thofe clear and living Springs Where comes no fain! Where all is light, and flowers, and fruit, And. joy, and reft, Make me amongft them, 'tis my fuit ! The laft one and the leaft. And when they all are fed, and have Drunk of thy living ftream, Bid thy poor Afs, with tears I crave, Drink after them. i8o SILEX SCINTILLJNS Thy love claims highefl thanks, my fin The loweft pitch : But if he pays, who loves much, then Thou hall made beggers rich. Jacobs Pillow, and Pillar. See the Temple in thy Pillar reared, And that dread glory which thy children feared, In milde, clear virions, without a frown, Unto thy folitary felf is fhown. ? Tis number makes a Schifm : throngs are rude, And God himfelf dyed by the multitude. This made him put on clouds, and fire, and fmoke ; Hence He in thunder to thy OfF-fpring fpoke. The fmall, ilill voice at fome low Cottage knocks, But a flrong wind mufl break thy lofty rocks. The firft true worfhip of the world's great King From private and felecled hearts did fpring ; But He mofl willing to fave all mankinde, Inlarg'd that light, and to the bad was kinde. Hence Catholick or Univerfal came A moll fair notion, but a very name. For this rich Pearl, like fome more common Hone, When once made publique, is efleem'd by none. Man flights his Maker when familiar grown, And fets up laws to pull his honor down. This God forefaw : And when flain by the crowd Under that ilately and myflerious cloud Which his death fcatter'd, He foretold the place OR SACRED POEMS. 181 And form to ferve Him in mould be true grace, And the meek heart ; not in a Mount, nor at Jerufalem, with blood of beafts and fat. A heart is that dread place, that awfull Cell, That fecret Ark, where the milde Dove doth dwell, When the proud waters rage : when Heathens rule By God's permiffion, and man turns a Mule, This litle Gojken, in the midit of night, And Satan's feat, in all her Coafts hath light ; Yea Bethel mall have Tithes, faith IfraePs Hone, And vows and vilions, though her foes crye, None. Thus is the folemn temple funk agen Into a Pillar, and conceal'd from men. And glory be to his eternal Name, Who is contented that this holy flame Shall lodge in fuch a narrow pit, till He With His ftrong arm turns our captivity ! But blefled Jacob, though thy fad diftrefs Was juft the fame with ours, and nothing lefs ; For thou a brother, and blood-thirfty too, Didfh flye, * whole children wrought thy children's wo : "Yet thou in all thy folitude and grief, On Hones didft fleep, and found'ft but cold relief; Thou from the Day-ftar a long way didft ftand, And all that diftance was Law and command. But we a healing Sun by day and night, Have our fure Guardian, and our leading light. What thou didft hope for and believe we finde And feel, a friend moll ready, fure and kinde. Thy pillow was but type and made at beft, But we the fubftance have, and on Him reft. * Obad'iah chap. I. 10. Amos chap. I. II. i8z SILEX SCINTILLANS The Agreement. Wrote it down. But one, that faw And envyed that Record, did lince Such a mill over my minde draw, It quite forgot that purpos'd glimpfe. I read it fadly oft, but frill Simply believ'd 'twas not my Quill. At length my life's kinde Angel came, And with his bright and bufie wing Scatt'ring that cloud fhewd me the flame, Which ftrait like Morning-liars did ling, And Ihine, and point me to a place, Which all the year fees the Sun's face. O beamy book ! O my mid-day, Exterminating fears and night ! The mount, whofe white Afcendents may Be in conjunction with true light ! My thoughts, when towards thee they move, Glitter and kindle with thy love. Thou art the oyl and the wine-houfe ; Thine are the prefent healing leaves, Blown from the tree of life to us By His breath whom my dead heart heaves. Each page of thine hath true life in't, And God's bright minde exprell in print. Moll modern books are blots on thee, Their doctrine chaff and windy fits, OR SACRED POEMS. 183 Darken'd along, as their fcribes be, With thofe foul ftorms, when they were writ ; While the man's zeal lays out and blends Onely felf-worfhip and felf-ends. Thou art the faithful, pearly rock, The Hive of beamy, living lights, Ever the fame, whofe diffus'd flock Entire frill wears out blackefl nights. Thy lines are rays the true Sun fheds ; Thy leaves are healing wings he fpreads. For until thou didft comfort me I had not one poor word to fay : Thick bufie clouds did multiply, And faid I was no childe of day ; They faid, my own hands did remove That candle given me from above. O God ! I know and do confefs My fins are great and flill prevail, (Moil heynous fins and numberlefs !) But thy CompaJJlons cannot fail. If thy fure mercies can be broken, Then all is, true my foes have fpoken. But while time runs, and after it Eternity which never ends, Quite through them both, flill infinite, Thy Covenant by Cbriji extends ; No fins of frailty, nor of youth, Can foil his merits, and thy truth. And this I hourly finde, for thou Dofl flill renew, and purge and heal : 184 SILEX SCINTILLJNS Thy care and love, which joyntly flow, New Cordials, new Cathartics deal. But were I once call off by thee, I know, my God ! this would not be. Wherefore with tears, tears by thee fent, I beg my faith may never fail ! And when in death my fpeech is fpent, O let that filence then prevail ! O chafe in that cold calm my foes, And hear my heart's lait private throes ! So thou, who didft the work begin, For / till* drawn came not to thee y Wilt finifh it, and by no fin Will thy free mercies hindred be. For which, O God, I onely can Blefs thee, and blame unthankful man. The day of Judgement. Day of life, of light, of love! The onely day dealt from above ! A day fo frelh, fo bright, fo brave Twill fhew us each forgotten grave, And make the dead, like flowers, arife Youthful and fair to fee new ikies. All other days, compar'd to thee, Are but light's weak minority ; They are but veils, and Cyphers drawn Like Clouds, before thy glorious dawn. * St John, chap. 6. w. 44. 65. OR SJCRED POEMS. O come ! arife ! mine ! do not Hay, Dearly lov'd day ! The fields are long fince white, and I With earneft groans for freedom cry ; My fellow creatures too fay, Come ! And {tones, though fpeechlefs, are not dumb. When fhall we hear that glorious voice Of life and joys? That voice, which to each fecret bed Of my Lord's dead, Shall bring true day, and make dull fee, The way to immortality ? When fhall thofe firfr. white Pilgrims rife, Whofe holy, happy Hiftories, Becaufe they fleep fo long, fome men Count but the blots of a vain pen ? Dear Lord ! make hafte ! Sin every day commits more wafte ; And thy old enemy, which knows His time is fhort, more raging grows. Nor moan I onely, though profufe, Thy Creature's bondage and abufe ; , But what is highefl fin and fhame, The vile defpight done to thy name ; The forgeries, which impious wit And power force on Holy Writ, With all deteftable defigns, That may difhonor thofe pure lines. O God ! though mercy be in thee The greateft attribute we fee, And the moft needful for our fins ; Yet, when thy mercy nothing wins But meer difdain, let not man fay Thy arm doth Jleep y but write this day 186 SILEX SCINTILLANS Thy judging one : Defcend, defcend ! Make all things new, and without end ! Pfalm 65. \Ions true, glorious God ! on thee Praife waits in all humility. All flefh mall unto thee repair, To thee, O thou that heareft prayer ! But finful words and works Hill fpread And over-run my heart and head ; Tranfgreffions make me foul each day ; O purge them, purge them all away ! Happy is he, whom thou wilt choofe To ferve thee in thy blefTed houfe ! Who in thy holy Temple dwells, And fill'd with joy thy goodnefs tells ! King of Salvation ! by ftrange things And terrible Thy Juftice brings Man to his duty. Thou alone Art the worlds hope, and but thee, none. Sailors that flote on flowing feas Stand firm by thee, and have fure peace. Thou ftill'ft the loud waves, when moft wild, And mak'ft the raging people mild. Thy arm did firft the mountains lay, And girds their rocky heads this day. The moll remote, who know not thee, At thy great works aftonifh'd be. The outgoings of the Even and Dawn, In An tip hones fing to thy Name : OR SACRED POEMS. 187 Thou vifit'ft die low earth, and then Water'ft it for the fons of men ; Thy upper river, which abounds With fertil ftreams, makes rich all grounds ; And by thy mercies Hill fupplied The fower doth his bread provide. Thou water'ft every ridge of land, And fettleft with thy fecret hand The furrows of it; then thy warm And opening mowers, reftrain'd from harm, Soften the mould, while all unfeen The blade grows up alive and green. The year is with thy goodnefs crown'd, And all thy paths drop fatnefs round; They drop upon the wildernefs, For thou doft even the defarts blefs, And hills all full of fpringing pride, Wear frefh adornments on each fide. The fruitful flocks fill every Dale, And purling Corn doth cloath the Vale ; They fhout for joy, and joyntly ling, Glory to the eternal King ! The Throne. Revel, chap. 20. ver. 11. Hen with thefe eyes, clos'd now by thee, But then reftor'd, The great and white throne I fhall fee Of my dread Lord : And lowly kneeling, for the moft 188 SILEX SCINTILLANS Still then muft kneel, Shall look on him, at whofe high coft Unfeen fuch joys I feel. What ever arguments or fkill Wife heads fhall ufe, Tears onely and my blufhes Hill I will produce. And ihould thofe fpeechlefs beggers fail, Which oft have won, Then taught by thee I will prevail, And fay, Thy will be done / Death. 8 Hough fince thy firft fad entrance by Juft Abets blood, 'Tis now fix thoufand years well nigh, And ftill thy fovereignty holds good ; Yet by none art thou underftood. We talk and name thee with much eafe, As a tryed thing, And every one can flight his leafe, As if it ended in a Spring, Which fhades and bowers doth rent-free bring. To thy dark land thefe heedlefs go. But there was One, Who fearch'd it quite through to and fro, And then, returning like the Sun, DifcoverM all that there is done. OR SACRED POEMS. 189 And iince his death we throughly fee All thy dark way ; Thy fhades but thin and narrow be, Which his firfl looks will quickly fray : Mills make but triumphs for the day. As harmlefs violets, which give Their virtues here For falves and fyrups while they live, Do after calmly difappear, And neither grieve, repine, nor fear : So dye his fervants ; and as fure Shall they revive. Then let not dull your eyes obfcure, But lift them up, where ilill alive, Though fled from you, their fpirits hive. The Feaft. Come away, Make no delay, Come while my heart is clean and While Faith and Grace [fleddy! Adorn the place, Making dull and afhes ready ! No blifs here lent Is permanent, Such triumphs poor flefh cannot merit ; Short ftps and fights Endear delights : Who feeks for more he would inherit. i 9 o SILEX SCINTILLANS Come then, true bread, Quickning the dead, Whofe eater fhall not, cannot dye ! Come, antedate On me that Hate, Which brings poor dull the victory. Aye victory, Which from thine eye Breaks as the day doth from the eaft, When the fpilt dew Like tears doth Ihew The fad world wept to be releaft. Spring up, O wine, And fpringing fhine With fome glad meflage from his heart, Who did, when flain, Thefe means ordain For me to have in Him a part ! Such a fure part In his bleft heart, The well where living waters fpring, That with it fed Poor dull, though dead, Shall rife again, and live, and ling. O drink and bread, Which llrikes death dead, The food of man's immortal being ! Under veyls here Thou art my chear, Prefent and fure without my feeing. OR SACRED POEMS. 191 How doft thou flye And fearch and pry Through all my parts, and like a quick And knowing lamp Hunt out each damp, Whofe fhadow makes me fad or nek ! O what high joys ! The Turtle's voice And fongs I hear ! O quickning mowers Of my Lord's blood, You make rocks bud, And crown dry hils with wells and flowers ! For this true eafe This healing peace, For this brief tafte of living glory, My foul and all, Kneel down and fall, And ling his fad victorious flory ! O thorny crown More foft than down ! O painful Crofs my bed of reft ! O fpear, the key Opening the way ! O thy worft ftate my onely bell ! O all thy griefs Are my reliefs, As all my fins thy forrows were ! And what can I, To this reply ? What, O God ! but a filent tear ? 192 SILEX SCINTILLANS Some toil and fow That wealth may flow, And drefs this earth for next year's meat : But let me heed Why thou didfted, And what in the next world to eat. Revel, chap. 19. ver. 9. Blejfed are they which are called unto the mar- ■ riage Supper of the Lamb ! The Obfequies. |Ince dying for me, thou didft crave no more Than common pay, Some few true tears, and thofe fhed for My own ill way ; With a cheap, plain remembrance Hill Of thy fad death, Becaufe forgetfulnefs would kill Even life's own breath : I were moll foolifh and unkinde In my own fenfe, Should I not ever bear in minde, If not thy mighty love, my own defenfe. Therefore thofe loofe delights and lufts, which here Men call good chear, I will, clofe girt and tyed, For mourning fack-cloth wear all mortified. Not but that mourners too can have Rich weeds and fhrouds ; For fome wore White ev'n in thy grave, OR SACRED POEMS. *93 And Joy, ]ike light, fhines oft in clouds : But thou, who didft man's whole life earn, Doft fo invite and woo me ftill, That to be merry I want fkill, And time to learn. Befides, thofe Kerchiefs fometimes med To make me brave, I cannot finde^ but where thy head Was once laid for me in thy grave. Thy grave ! To which my thoughts fhall move Like Bees in ftorms unto their Hive ; That from the murd'ring world's falfe love Thy death may keep my foul alive.. The Water-fall. ^Ith what deep murmurs, through time's filent Health. Doth thy tranfparent, cool and watry wealth Here flowing fall, And chide and call, As if his liquid, loofe Retinue ftaid Lingring, and were of this fteep place afraid ; The common pafs, Where, clear as glafs, All mufl defcend Not to an end, But quickned by this deep and rocky grave,. Rife to a longer courfe more bright and brave- Dear ftream ! dear bank ! where often I Have fate, and pleas'd my penfive eye ^ o 194 SILEX SCINTILLANS Why, fince each drop of thy quick ftore Runs thither whence it flow'd before, Should poor fouls fear a fhade or night, Who came fure from a fea of light ? Or fince thofe drops are all fent back So fure to thee that none doth lack, Why mould frail flefh doubt any more That what God takes He'll not reftore ? O ufeful Element and clear ! My facred wafh and cleanfer here ; My firft configner unto thofe Fountains of life, where the Lamb goes ! What fublime truths, and wholefome themes, Lodge in thy myflical, deep flreams ! Such as dull man can never finde, Unlefs that Spirit lead his minde, Which firft upon thy face did move And hatch'd all with his quickning love. As this loud brook's inceflant fall In ftreaming rings reftagnates all, Which reach by courfe the bank, and then Are no more feen, jull fo pafs men. O my invifible eftate, My glorious liberty, ftill late ! Thou art the Channel my foul feeks, Not this with Catara&s and Creeks. OR SACRED POEMS. J 95 Quicknefs. Alfe life ! a foil, and no more, when Wilt thou be gone ? Thou foul deception of all men, That would not have the true come on • Thou art a Moon-like toil ; a blinde Self-pofing flate ; A dark contefl of waves and winde ; A meer tempefluous debate. Life is a fix'd, difcerning light, A knowing Joy ; No chance, or fit : but ever bright And calm and full, yet doth not cloy. 'Tis fuch a blifsful thing, that flill Doth vivifie, And mine and fmile, and hath the ikill To pleafe without Eternity. Thou art a toylfom Mole, or lefs A moving mift. But life is, what none can exprefs, A quicknefs , which my God hath kift. The Wreath. Ince I in florins us'd moll to be, And feldom yielded flowers, How mail I get a wreath for thee From thofe rude, barren hours ? 196 SILEX SCINTILLJNS The fofter dreffings of the Spring, Or Summer's later ftore, I will not for thy temples bring, Which Thorns, not Rofes, wore. But a twin'd wreath of 'grief and praife, Praife foil'd with tears, and tears again Shining with joy, like dewy days, This day I bring for all thy pain ; Thy cauflefs pain ! and, fad as death, Which fadnefs breeds in the moil vain, (O not in vain !) now beg thy breath, Thy quickning breath, which gladly bears Through faddeft clouds to that glad place, Where cloud lefs Quires ling without tears, Sing thy juft praife, and fee thy face. The Queer. Tell me whence that joy doth fpring, Whofe diet is divine and fair, Which wears heaven like a bridal ring, And tramples on doubts and defpair ? Whofe Eaflern traffique deals in bright And boundlefs Empyrean themes, Mountains of fpice, Day-ftars and light, Green trees of life, and living flreams I Tell me, O tell, who did thee bring, And here without my knowledge plac'd ; Till thou did ft grow and get a wing, A wing with eyes, and eyes that tafte ? * OR SACRED POEMS. i 97 Sure, holynefs the Magnet is, And Love the Lure, that woos thee down : Which makes the high tranfcendent blifs Of knowing thee, fo rarely known! The Book. Ternal God ! maker of all That have liv'd here fince the man's fall ! The Rock of ages J in whofe fhade They live unfeen, when here they fade I Thou knew'fl this papyr, when it was Meer feed, and after that but grafs ; Before 'twas dreft ox f pun, and when Made linen, who did wear it then: What were their lifes, their thoughts and deeds, Whether good corn? or fruitlefs weeds. Thou knew'fl this Tree, when a grzenjiade Cover'd it fince a Cover made, And where it flourifh'd, grew and fpread, As if it never mould be dead. Thou knew'fl: this harmlefs beaji, when he Did live and feed by thy decree On each green thing ; then flept well fed Cloath'd with this Jk in, which now lies fpred A Covering o're this aged book, Which makes me wifely weep, and look On my own dull ; meer dufl: it is, But not fo dry and clean as this. Thou knew'fl and faw'fl: them all, and though Now fcatter'd thus, doft know them fo. 198 SILEX SCINTILLANS * O knowing, glorious Spirit ! when Thou fhalt reftore trees, beafts and men, When thou fhalt make all new again, Deftroying onely death and pain, Give him amongft thy works a place, Who in them lov'd and fought thy face ! To the Holy Bible. Book ! life's guide ! how fliall we part, And thou fo long feiz'd of my heart ? Take this laft kifs ; and let me weep True thanks to thee before I fleep. Thou wert the firft put in my hand, When yet I could not underftand, And daily didft my yong eyes lead To letters, till I learnt to read. But as rafh youths, when once grown ftrong, Flye from their Nurfes to the throng, Where they new Conforts choofe, and ilick To thofe till either hurt or lick ; So with that firft light gain'd from thee Ran I in chafe of vanity, Cryed drofs for gold, and never thought My firft cheap Book had all I fought. Long reign'd this vogue ; and thou call by With meek, dumb looks didft woo mine eye, And oft left open would*ft convey A fudden and molt fearching ray Into my foul, with whofe quick touch Refining ftill I ftrugled much. By this m.ilde art; of love at length, OR SACRED POEMS. 199 Thou overcam'ft my finful ftrength, And having brought me home, didft there Shew me that pearl I fought elfewhere. Gladnefs, and peace, and hope, and love, The fecret favors of the Dove ; Her quickning kindnefs, fmiles and kifles, Exalted pleafures, crowning bliffes, Fruition, union, glory, life Thou didft lead to, and ftill all ftrife. Living, thou wert my foul's fure eafe, And dying mak'ft me go in peace : Thy next Effecls no tongue can tell ; Farewel, O book of God ! farewel ! S. Luke chap. 2. ver. 14. Glory be to God in the high eft, and on Earth peace, good will towards men. L/Envoy. The new world's new quickning Sun ! Ever the fame, and never done ! The feers of whofe facred light Shall all be dreft in mining white, And made conformable to his Immortal fhape, who wrought their blifs ; Arife, arife ! And like old cloaths fold up thefe ikies, This long worn veyl : then mine and ipread Thy own bright felf over each head, And through thy creatures pierce and pafs, Till all becomes thy cloudlefs glafs, Tranfparent as the pureft day 200 SILEX SCINTILLJNS And without blemifh or decay, Fixt by thy fpirit to a flate For evermore immaculate ; A flate fit for the fight of thy Immediate, pure and unveiPd eye, A flate agreeing with thy minde, A flate thy birth and death defign'd : A flate for which thy creatures all Travel and groan, and look and call. O feeing thou hafl paid our fcore, Why mould the curfe reign any more ? But fince thy number is as yet UnfinihYd, we fhall gladly fit Till all be ready, that the train May fully fit thy glorious reign. Onely, let not our haters brag Thy feamdlefs coat is grown a rag, Or that thy truth was not here known, Becaufe we forc'd thy judgements down. Dry up their arms who vex thy fpoufe, And take the glory of thy houfe To deck their own ; then give thy faints That faithful zeal, which neither faints, Nor wildly burns, but meekly flill Dares own the truth, and fhew the ill. Fruflrate thofe cancerous, clofe arts, Which caufe folution in all parts, And ftrike them dumb, who for meer words Wound thy beloved more than fwords. Dear Lord, do this ! and then let grace Defcend, and hallow all the place* Incline each hard heart to do good, And cement us with thy Son's blood ; That like true fheep, all in one fold OR SACRED POEMS. 201 We may be fed, and one minde hold. Give watchful fpirits to our guides ; For fin like water hourly glides By each man's door, and quickly will Turn in, if not obflrudled ftill. Therefore write in their hearts thy law, And let thefe long, fharp judgements awe Their very thoughts, that by their clear And holy lives mercy may here Sit regent yet, and bleflings flow As fail as perfecutions now. So fhall we know in war and peace Thy fervice to be our fole eafe, With proftrate fouls adoring thee, Who turn'd our fad captivity ! S. Clemens apud Bajil : Zij ©so? , actl xvpios Iv