Divine Passions Piously and Pathetically Expressed, Book 1
Dives.
VVHen I in nine moneths had through Virgo run,
That fruitfull ſigne, and then appear'd a Sun,
Such fates might from my birth have been collected
As if by noble Jupiter aſpected.
So ſoon as born, I had indowments faire,
Not only born, but born my Fathers heire:
And eke with joy my fainting Mother ſmild,
Whoſe paines were turn'd ſo pleaſure in her child.
Great preparation, with the greateſt mirth,
Was duly made to celebrate my birth,
Where I received honour, with my name,
Grac'd by the greateſt witneſſing the ſame.
My parents joy, with comfort joynd was ſuch,
No coſt was ſpar'd, nor care was thought too much,
But all conduced readily to prove
My earthly bliſſe, decypherd from above.
Lazarus.
VVOe, child of woe! of all the world a ſcorn,
Nothing but woe appear'd when I was born:
Diſaſt'rous Saturn, did with Mars comply
To make me wretched by nativitie.
Born, onelyonly born, that Natures care allowd me,
But being born had ſcarce a rag to ſhrowd me:
My ſilly Parents ſighing for reliefe,
One cryd for help, the other wept for griefe.
Diſtreſſted Parents, who all comfort wanted,
Muſt, for my ſake, have now no biding granted:
Prodigious babe! how could the world fore-ſee
I ſhould a burden to her greatneſſe be?
A wretched Infant in my mothers womb,
But far more wretched in the world become:
So baſe, yea ſo unworthy of a name
The meaneſt bluſh to witneſſe me the ſame.
The Authors Epigram.
MOſt fatall ſtarres, if ſtarres may fates decree;
Or partfull fate if fates may granted be;
One ſwims, one ſinckes, one hath enough and more,
Another nothing, begs from doore to doore.
The deſtinies on little Dives ſmile:
Poore Lazarus by them deſtin'd to exile:
Rich Matrons run when Dives comes to birth;
But cannot ſtir when Lazarus ſhould come forth.
Dives attended in his cradle lying:
Poore infant Lazarus lies neglected crying:
Dives, his Parents dear and only joy:
Lazarus, his Parents object of annoy.
Dives hath dainties, is in purple dreſt:
Lazarus with cold, and hunger is oppreſt:
Alas poore Lazarus child of woe, indeed:
Kind people take ſome pitty here is need.
Dives.
FOrth from my Nurſe, as weary of her charmes,
I view'd the world, the world unclaſp'd her armes,
And, as another Mother, or as kind,
Imbrac'd me, ſought to ſatisfie my mind.
She ſet before me all her various joyes,
As well jewels, as her wanton toyes,
Set open all her Cabinets of price,
And ſhew'd me all the pleaſures might intice.
She plaid me muſick, made me underſtand:
And gave me lovely Venus in my hand,
And when my tender ſpirits did decline,
She taught me to revive the ſame with wine.
Here I had heav'n, or pleaſures did excell,
Theſe ſuted with my youthfull nature well,
The world allur'd, my ſenſes prov'd betray'd,
The world beſieg'd my ſenſes ſoon obey'd.
Lazarus.
VNtimely born, and brought up as untaught,
With neither wit, nor education fraught,
My friends full poore could little kindneſſe ſhew me,
My kindred none, or none at leaſt would know me.
But griping hunger forc'd me to intreat
The world ſome leave to labour for my meat,
For pity ſake unto me to aſſigne
Some meaneſt office, though to feed the ſwine.
But all in vaine, her greatneſſe did abhor me,
Had neither place, nor yet imployment for me,
But ſternly told me of my ſad ſubjection
To wofull ſtocking, whipping, and correction.
Whereat amaz'd I ſoone was ſtrucken mute,
Betwixt deſpair, and growing reſolute,
Unto the laſt bad counſell did intice,
Bad nature too: but grace reſtrained vice.
The Authors Epigram.
DEceitfull world, deciphering thy ſtate
Who can but erre? thou art unto the great
A flattering Syren, but unto the ſmall
A very ſavage cruell Caniball.
Thou dandl'ſt youthfull Dives on thy knee
Till with thy pleaſures he inchanted be,
But having got the thing which thou wouldſt have,
Thou mak'ſt him then thy moſt contented ſlave.
But if poor Lazarus ſeekes to be imploy'd,
Or ſues for aide, he is by thee deny'd,
Thou only cry'ſt he doth thy honour blemiſh,
Correct the raſcall, let the vermine famiſh.
Alas poore Lazarus of the world excluded:
Alas rich Dives by the world deluded;
Poore Lazarus ſtarves his penurie is ſuch:
Again rich Dives ſurfets with too much.
Dives.
VVHen as the world had given my will content,
Or I had given unto the world conſent,
Her various beauties did me ſo inflame.
My very heart was raviſht with the ſame.
I freely drunk her pleaſures with delight,
Whereof the more I drunk the more I might:
Her profits were unto my hot deſire
But as more fuell to increaſe that fire.
Her greatneſſe, with reſpect unto her honour,
Did, for preferment, make me wait upon her.
Her glories were ſo radiantly ſet forth,
I thought upon no other heav'n, but earth.
On earth I only did ſet up my ſtay,
I gave my ſences and affections ſway,
And having treaſure which might long endure.
I in that harbour thought my ſelfe ſecure.
Lazarus.
MOſt wretched creature, deſtitute of ayd,
Of all men loathed, and in limmes decay'd,
I could not worke, and therefore might not eat;
But griping hunger and inforce for meat▪
Beg then I muſt, and ſo I did indeed,
I made the world acquainted with my need,
I made my greefe apparant, but alas I
I muſt be puniſh'd, for I had no paſſe.
Yet ſtill I beg'd▪ as to that thraldome ty'd,
Though oft upon my tender kneen deny'd,
I cry'd for ſuccour, and did ſhew my ſores
Where people paſſed, and at rich mens dores.
Thus▪ whiles I beg'd, I got reliefe of ſome,
But without wofull begging not a crumme;
High wayes and hedges, were any ſhrouds by day,
By night full glad to ſhroud my ſelfe in hay.
The Authors Epigram.
RIch Dives laughs, and doth in pleaſures ſwim,
As if they only were ordain'd for him.
Poore Lazarus weeps, and makes this pitious mone,
I drinke the ſorrowes of the world alone.
Rich Dives doth no earthly comfort miſſe,
By birth much wealth, if not the world is his:
But ſilly Lazarus, as it doth appeare,
Is borne to beg, or borne to nothing heere.
Rich Dives heere is maſter and commands
Much force, if not too much, is in his hands:
Poore Lazarus heere is but the ſcumme of all,
Muſt ſtoope to meane men, downe to rich men fall.
Dives hath friends, is ſpoken to moſt faire,
Dives the worlds owne darling, yea her heire:
Lazarus is only left, no love, no friend,
Lazarus is only loath'd, but marke the end.
Lazarus.
COnſum'd with hunger, miſery and care,
Decrep't with cold for want of rags to weare,
My pined corps, and panting heart for ayd
Began to languiſh, and my health decay'd.
With many ſighes, in this my ſad eſtate,
I got, at length, unto the rich mans gate,
Where, in my anguiſh, in my paine and griefe,
I hop'd for ſuccour, and I beg'd reliefe.
I cal'd, I cry'd, and, as I durſt, I knock'd,
But all in vaine, the rich mans gate was look'd:
No gate, no doores, no eares could open'd be:
His Curres did far more kindnes ſhew then he.
Whereat my heart within my wretched breaſt
Was ſtrucke as dead, yea with meere death poſſeſt▪
Thus left of man, all mercy me denying,
God, everliving, ſhew'd me mercy dying.
Dives.
VVHat, am I ſtruck with melancholy's dart?
Come earthly comforts, come revive my heart,
What have you loſt your vertue, or your skill
Which wont to cure me? Oh! I yet am ill.
What deſperate change is now in my diſeaſe?
That now offendeth which was wont to pleaſe,
My earthly pleaſures, and my endleſſe gaines
Doe now diſquiet me, nor aſſwage mu paines.
Come, make my will then of my wealth with ſpeed,
For now I finde it failes me at my need▪
And run to ſome Phyſitian with my ſtate,
Some learned Doctor, for my paines are great.
Come Doctor, come, my ſicke eſtate behold,
Come ſhew your learning, give ſome eaſe for gold,
Some preſent helpe unto my heart apply,
A world for life, helpe, helpe, alas, I dye.
The Authors Epigram.
IF Dives ſurfets and grown ſicke, is ſad,
No earthly aid is wanting can be had,
His friends abound; Phyſitians dare be bold
To ſtrive ſometimes beyond their rules for gold.
But wofull Lazarus of the world neglected
Lies ſicke forſaken, harbourleſſe, rejected,
No friends to chear, no phyſicke for his good,
He ſurfets not, but rather ſterves for food.
Rich Dives now he feels unto his pain
That all his wealth, yea all the world is vain,
When ſickneſſe comes their ſweetneſſe is but ſmall,
When death their hony then converts to gall.
Poore Lazarus, all his life time in diſtreſſe,
Whoſe very face deciphers wretchedneſſe,
When ſickneſſe comes it makes him death require,
When death it gives him what he doth deſire.
Dives.
O Death moſt cruell I thou haſt ſtruck my heart:
O wretched body I thou and I muſt part:
Thou to a rotting reſting place a while,
I to the ruefull dungeon of exile.
Thou now a carkaiſe, I a curſed ſoule,
Beſet with fiends, which will have no controule▪
Out of thy priſon, now I ſee full cleare
Moſt ugly Divels as they are, appeare.
They ſeaze upon me with infernall ſpite,
They tell me I belong to them by right;
I have beene by them many yeeres imploy'd
Although they by me have not beene diſcry'd.
And therefore now I muſt with them away,
They long have wayted, but have now their prey,
They muſt unto proud Lucifer return
With me, that monſter doth in fury burne.
Lazarus.
LOng wiſh'd for day, moſt welcome death to me,
Which ſets me thus from all my ſufferings free:
My wither'd corps now reſt, in hope to riſe,
My weary'd ſoul is now on wing, and flies.
Moſt happy change I how is my chance amended?
On earth caſt out, with Angels now attended,
Who all my life did ſuccour me diſtreſt,
And now at death will carry me to reſt.
In ſoule I meane, which from my body freed,
Now viewes thoſe Angels as they are indeed,
Which ſight excels all earthly joyes as far
As doth the Sun, the moſt inferiour Star.
Which glorious ſpirits, with delight inſpir'd,
To ſee my ſoule thus out of thrall retir'd,
Doe in their fiery chariots now of love
Thus, in my ſpirit, early me above.
The Authors Epigram.
HEere I muſt change additions given before,
Rich Lazarus now, Rich Dives now no more▪
Rich Lazarus now hath more then earth can grant,
Poore Dives now in miſerable want.
Rich Lazarus now with Angels is delighted,
Poore Dives now with Divels is affrighted.
Lazarus in peace of conſcience doth excell,
Dives in conſcience hath a very hell,
Rich Lazarus mounts with Angels him attending,
Poore Dives now with Divels is d…ſcending.
Heaven hath for Lazarus long prepared …in
Hell gapes for Dives, and he enters in.
Lazarus receiv'd with love, delight, and joy,
Dives with deadly horrour▪ and annoy:
Lazarus to have his ſaved ſoule contented:
Dives to have his damned ſoule tormented.
Dives.
OH! curſed, curſed, moſt accurſed ſoule,
Where am I now? what fiends are theſe that howl?
They ſeize upon me, they torment me ſore,
I ſhrike with anguiſh, they in fury rore.
In earths deep centers darke and dreadfull cell,
Where only angry damned ſpirits dwell
In groſſeſt darknes, yet my ſight ſo clear▪
Moſt hidious viſions to the ſame appear.
In hell, indeed, where I endure that curſe
Which ſhall not ceaſe, but be heerafter worſe,
In fire infernall, out of meaſure hot,
Which ever burns, and yet conſumeth not.
I rave, I curſe, and I accuſe my fate,
As if ſuch torments were unjuſt, too great:
But conſcience nips me with, not ſo: I trie,
To kill that worme, but oh I it will not die.
Lazarus.
OH! bleſſed, bleſſed, oh, my ſoule moſt bleſt▪
In Abrahams boſome, yea in Angels reſt:
A Heavenly manſion, made by God, moſt good,
Made mine by Jeſus, purchas'd by his blood.
In heav'n, indeed, where I behold no ſight
But only heav'nly objects of delight:
Nor heare I ought that doth offend; but heere
All prayſes ſing, and Alleluj as heare.
No darknes heer, I ſtill have perfect day,
No ſorrowes heere, all tears are wip'd away:
No meanneſſe heere, I match with Kings above;
No hatred here, but I have perfect love.
Heere I have reſt which never ſhall decreaſe,
Heere I have pleaſures which ſhall never ceaſe:
Heere I have riches which ſhall never ruſt,
Heere I injoy the portion of the juſt.
The Authors Epigram.
POore Dives now within that fiery lake
In hell doth yell, moſt piteous dolour make,
He ſees the fire, although it gives no light,
The divels too; though in perpetuall night.
Rich Lazarus now hath reſt which ſhall indure,
In heav'n, where only harbour is ſecure:
Views Man in Chriſt, and Chriſt in God, which ſight
Is the moſt heav'nly object of delight.
Poore Dives now is deſperate indeed,
His roaring conſcience makes his ſoule to bleed,
The fiends, againe, do rage the faſter, why?
To make him ſilent: no, the lowder cry.
Rich Lazarus now it bleſt above meaſure,
Hath heav'n for glory, happineſſe for treaſure,
Yea double happy, he in heaven abides,
And in his conſcience hath a heav'n beſides.
Dives.
MOſt curſed ſoule, with Divels now in chaynes,
I feele not only hells infernall paines,
But alſo have a hell within my ſpirit
For loſſe of heav'n, which Saints above inherit.
Damn'd ſoule, I curſe, but cannot God accuſe,
He proffer'd grace, but I did grace refuſe;
He often touch'd my conſcience with a nip
Which ſtill I ſmother'd, or in vaine let ſlip.
He ſent his ſervants, yea his only Sonne,
Who ſtill did wooe, but I would not be woon,
He gave me riches to relieve the poore,
Whom I neglected, or diſdain'd the more.
But now I am for evermore rejected,
No meanes of mercy now to be expected,
But fiery fiends muſt pay me now my due
Without remorſe, who would no mercy ſhew.
Lazarus.
MOſt happy ſoule now from corruption free'd,
Which in my body was corrupt indeed,
I then (yea I, for now I doe ſubſiſt
Within my ſoule) was then with ſin diſtreſt.
My earthly body as a houſe of mire,
Or dirty clay, polluted my deſire,
Depraved Nature, with corrupted ſenſe
Seduc'd my will, abus'd intelligence.
Yea infinite allurements unto ſin,
The world without, the wicked one within,
All join'd in one, a very hoſt, indeed,
To race my Towrs, which were, alas, but Reed.
But God, who ſtill defendeth from above,
Did looke upon my weake eſtate, in love,
And in his Sonne, accepting what I wanted,
Where power I had not, there he pardon granted.
The Authors Epigram.
IF Adams Seed be ſtill the ſame by birth,
Or Dives yet hath brethren upon earth;
Here let them heare him in his ſoule complaine
For loſſe of what they yet have time to gaine.
If men diſtreſt remaine in ſorrows ſtriving,
Or ſaved Lazarus yet hath ſeed ſurviving,
Here let them in their ſorrows overflown,
Behold his joy, and in his joy their owne.
Dives as in an Ocean, did abound
In earthly joyes, wherein he ſwimming, drown'd:
Lazarus, as in a channell with his oare,
Was croſt, and toſt, and yet got ſafe to ſhoare.
Dives had warnings of a future night,
But preſent joyes put future cares to flight:
Lazarus, with preſent miſeries oppreſt,
Was ſoon incited to inſuing reſt.
Dives.
COnfounded ſoule, when I was found in earth
I loſt my ſelfe, but moſt of all my worth,
Nay I could very hardly then diſcry
That man had any ſuch a thing as I.
The curious cob-web of my body twin'd,
Wherein I, out of ſight, was out of minde,
Was then the object that I counted dear,
Becauſe, in deed, that only did appear▪
That, that I pamper'd with the choiſeſt cates,
And deck'd with jewels of the higheſt rates;
And that ſo fully my affections ſway'd,
That I, who therein ſhould have rul'd obey'd.
But now poore ſoule, I ſee thee as thou art,
A power immortall, once the better part,
I ſee the worth wherein thou were infus'd▪
And to what end, but all, alas, abus'd.
Lazarus.
MOſt happy ſoule, thus out of thraldome riſen,
Thou in the body wert indeed, in priſon,
That houſe of clay wherein thou wert inclos'd,
Confin'd thy power, and made thee ill diſpos'd,
Thou, in ſome motion to the better things,
Wouldſt then have hover'd, but that held thy wings:
Thou then didſt ſee, but then thy ſight, alas,
Prov'd much deceitfull, looking through that glaſſe.
But now, my ſoule, thy nimble ſight is clear,
Thou as thou art, doſt to thy ſelfe appear,
A jewell moſt ineſtimable, ſuch
As doth in worth exceed the world by much.
Pure in thy ſelfe, and pure in thy deſire,
With Angels equall, and ſhall yet be higher,
In preſent joy, and art inſpir'd with ſome
Sweet ſpeculations of more joyes to come.
The Authors Epigram.
DIves in hell, confounded at his ſtate,
Now ſees his folly's, when it is too late,
Confeſſeth too with moſt outragious cries
What, whiles he liv'd the world might not ſurmiſe.
Alas poore Dives heaven hath now deni'd thee,
The world which was thy joy, doth now deride thee,
Ʋnhappy Dives, how art thou undone?
Thy ſoule is loſt, and yet no world is won.
Thrice happy Lazarus, who in ſorrows toſt,
Haſt gain'd what Dives in his pleaſures loſt,
Haſt heav'n, where thou art raviſhed with mirth;
Dives hath neither joy in heav'n, nor earth.
If ſorrows here foretell ſuch future gain,
Or preſent pleaſures ſuch enſuing pain,
Why ſtrive we here in pleaſures to excell,
Or count diſtreſſe and ſorrows here a hell?
Dives.
THrice wretched, yea moſt wretched ſoule am I,
Wretched? yea wretched, drown'd in miſery,
Drown'd? yea and bound in that infernall pit
Which hath no bottome, yea more wretched yet,
Not only bound, but bound in chaines, a yoke
Perpetuall too, which never ſhall be broke,
Never? what never, without end, or date?
Oh! this word never makes me deſperate.
Deſperate, indeed, no hope for me remaines,
I am in hell in everlaſting chaines,
This purgatory I am in, indeed,
Am in, 'tis true, but out cannot be freed.
Hence to redeeme me men may be at coſt,
But all in vaine and to no purpoſe loſt,
Here interceſſions dirges are too late,
Mans love is vaine, where God above doth hate.
Lazarus.
THrice happy ſoule am I, what happy thrice?
Yea infinitely, in a Paradiſe
Eternall in the heavens; oh beſt of all,
And yet more happy, where I cannot fall.
No Serpent here to tempt me to rebell,
I have a place from whence that Serpent fell:
No aple here whereby I can be try'd,
No choice offends where nothing is deny'd.
Nor can I now in my affections ſtray,
Corruption thence is purged clean away,
And with the Angels which have ever ſtood,
I, freed from ill, am now confirm'd in good.
I now, indeed, am from all danger free,
I cannot ſin, then cannot puniſh'd be;
I now am happy beyond end, or weight,
And therefore happy beyond all conceit.
The Authors Epigram.
DIves in hell now ſuffers for that ſin
Which we on earth doe take our pleaſure in▪
Dives in ſoule is with his ſin tormented,
We in the body are with ſin contented.
Dives in ſoule contemplates his hard fate,
We in the body ponder not our ſtate;
Dives in hell, as deſperate, muſt indure;
We upon earth are deſperately ſecure.
Lazarus in heaven contemnes all earthly toyes:
We upon earth regard not heavenly joyes:
Lazarus in ſoule, now freed from earth hath reſt
We in the body thinke that thraldome beſt.
Lazarus in ſoule hath now in fault to mind:
We in the body nothing but offend:
Lazarus in heaven hath now no cure in …ake:
We upon earth have our accounts to make,
Dives.
DIſtreſſed ſoule, my miſeries indeed
Are out of meaſure, yet muſt more exceed▪
Diſtreſſed ſoule, what puniſhed by art?
Thus fully tortur'd, and yet but in part?
I in my ſoule am helliſhly diſtreſt,
While my corrupted carkaſſe is at reſt,
But that and I ere long muſt meet againe,
Not to aſſwage, but to increaſe my paine.
Unhappy ſoule, was I, indeed, the firſt
That did offend, that I am puniſh'd worſt?
I am in hell, the body yet ſeems free,
Did I pollute the body, or that me?
But this is ſure, both were created good,
And in that ſtate (wherein we might have ſtood)
The Apple was unto the eye preſented,
But I unto the eating in conſented.
Lazarus.
I Happy I, who once was wretched heal'd
Am now in ſoule in that Elyſian field
Mear heaven, celeſtiall Paradiſe; where I,
In boundleſſe pleaſures, greater to diſcry.
I, happy I, have many years injoy'd
What pleaſures may be, from the body void;
Which freedome might have juſtly been reputed
A comfort when the body was polluted.
But when the body ſhall new formed be,
And made immortall from corruption free,
Shall to me, by the hand of the Creator,
Be joyn'd againe, my joy ſhall then be greater.
My preſent joyes are infinite, yet ſome
Of them in hope, which hopes ſhall then become;
All hop'd for pleaſures then ſhall be ſuppli'd,
The new form'd Bridegroome have his reform'd bride.
The Authors Epigram.
MOſt happy Lazarus, how art thou renown'd:
How are thy ſad and patient ſufferings crown'd
With ample, yea within … victories?
And ſhalt have, yet is greater weight of glories.
Thou in thy body were … diſtreſt:
Thou in thy ſoule art now in heaven at reſt:
Thou in thy ſoule and body joyn'd againe,
With Saints made perfect, ſhall triumphant reigne,
Vnhappy Dives, thou haſt done thy mirth,
Thou in the body hadſt thy heaven on earth,
But now thy ſpirit, from the body freed,
Doth finde its ſelfe in very hell indeed.
Thou in the body only but devis'd
To make the body were imp…rudis'd:
But on thy ſoule, and time to come unheedfull,
The ſtate in both is therefore now moſt …readfull.
Dives.
MOſt wretched I, beſides the woes I have,
Methinks I heare my bones within my graye,
(As troubl'd with ſome fatall Trumpets ſound)
Begin to ſhake and ſhiver in the ground.
Diſquieted bones why reſt you not as rotten?
Why are you not eternally forgotten?
What awfull power, or dreadfull earthquake rather
Is this which wakes, and ſhakes you thus together?
But can the bones conſumed into duſt
Reſtored be? Yes wofull yes, they muſt,
Both bones, and fleſh are but in earth refin'd,
They muſt together once againe be joyn'd.
Oh! how have I offended? is not death
Of body for the body condign wrath?
And hell ſufficient for the ſoules reward?
No, no, there is a ſentence yet more hard.
Lazarus.
MOſt bleſſed I, what joyes have I in ſtore?
How out of meaſure can they yet be more?
Yes, joyfull yes, I yet more joyes ſhall finde
When once my body to my ſoule be joyn'd.
When that, long look'd for, act is to be done,
How ſhall my fleſh and bones together run,
And, by the riſing of that Lambe was ſlaine,
Have power infuſed to ſtand up again.
Then from the ſad ſepulchre of anoy,
How ſhall I but lift up my head with joy?
And in the body deeply raviſh'd be
Thus from that priſon ſet for ever free?
Beſides, my body which now reſts in peace,
Shall then from all corruption have releaſe,
And like a Bridegroom ready trim'd, to me
The bride for ever ſhall new marri'd be.
The Authors Epigram.
OH, Dives, Dives, thou on earth hadſt ſtore,
Hadſt all things in abundance, no man more:
But, when thy ſleep be ſlept, doſt underſtand
Thou ſhalt awake with nothing in thy hand.
Oh! whither would thy ſoule then take her flight
To keep out of the body if it might?
How would it rather forth the body dwell,
Then in the body feel another hell.
But Lazarus thou ſhalt then come forth with joy,
Thou in the world hadſt nothing but annoy,
But when that day of reſtitution comes,
Thou ſhalt have plenty, Dives not the crums.
Thy body which in rags was bound up here,
Shall then in moſt celeſtiall robes appear,
Thy ſoule therewith much raviſh'd and delighted,
Shall in much pleaſure, be thereto united.
Dives.
TIs true indeed, yea too to true, alas,
(As Scripture ſpeaks, which alwaies comes to paſſe)
It is decre'd for all men once to dye,
But were that all, more happy then were I.
But oh! this ſentence is not here confin'd,
The ſoule and body muſt againe be joyn'd,
The ſoul from hell, the body from its tombe,
And after death, muſt unto judgement come,
Confounded wretch, how ſhall I then ſubſiſt?
Which if I might not, I the more were bleſt,
But yet I muſt, alas, I muſt appear,
But with what face, alas I tremble here.
I in the body made of ſin a ſport,
I in the body then muſt anſwer for't:
The Judge of all will juſtly then define
Whether his wayes were equaleſt, or mine.
Lazarus.
OH! bleſſed body, though a while in priſon,
How will the ſoule take pleaſure in thee riſen?
And how againe, will thy delights increaſe
When as the ſoule returns to thee in peace?
How like the Turtle ſent out of the Arke
After the ſtood returning to that Barke
With ſignes of joy, ſhalt thou my ſoule my Dove,
Be in that day, return'd with ſignes of love?
How ſhall my late dry ſcattered bones up ſtand,
When thou thus bringſt a pardon in thy hand?
Yea with what comfort ſhall I be inſpir'd
When thus my corps is from the grave retir'd?
Nay with what courage ſhall I then appear,
What joy, when my redemption draweth near?
What tongue on earth is able to expreſſe
What joy in conſcience I ſhall then poſſeſſe?
The Authors Epigram.
MOſt fond, yea moſt infatuated we
Have ears and heare not, eyes and will not ſee:
Or elſe how could we, whiles we here remaine,
So blinded be in things which are ſo plain?
How could we elſe, like men whom charms benum,
Be ſo unfeeling of the chance to come
To not obſerve, like men moſt ſure to die,
What Dives loſt, what Lazarus gain'd thereby.
Here who but Dives had the cap and knee?
Here who came forth with greater pompe then he?
But lo! hereafter, dead, and cold again,
Alas he comes forth trembling in a chain.
But bleſſed Lazarus, who was here a ſcorn,
As out of time, or moſt untimely born
Shall, when the dead are ſummon'd from the grave,
Come forth with comfort, then moſt honour have.
Dives.
OH! dreadfull, dreadfull, in what dreadfull terrours
Am I in hell tormented with my errours?
By only meditating on that horrour
My ſoule ſhall be in when the Judge ſends for her.
But with what feare ſhall I be then poſſeſt,
The feare of which doth thus my ſoule moleſt,
When I at laſt ſhall feel the thing I feare,
Shall riſe you dead, and come to judgement here?
How like a priſoner in a chaine at laſt
Shall I ſtand forth to heare my ſentence paſt?
How like a moſt condemned wretch? alas,
I am condemned ere the ſentence paſſe.
My conſcience, which once counterfeited ſleep,
Now in my ſoule a reſtleſſe court doth keep,
And then ſhall make a Regiſter come forth
Worſe then a thouſand witneſſes on earth.
Lazarus.
VVHat joyes are theſe which now ſo neer approch?
Divineſt thoughts, may you thereon incroach?
Incroach? Oh! ſeiſe thereon, be not deter'd,
They were for me before the world prepar'd.
For me? what me, who beg'd from door to door?
And in my ſelfe, am to my ſelfe as poore,
Have neither birth, nor worth in me whereby
So mean a wretch ſhould chalenge joyes ſo high.
Yet ſee, and wonderd to theſe joyes divine
I have ſuch right, that they by right are mine:
God did prepare, Chriſt purchas'd, I by faith
Receive them due; thus imputation ſaith.
But oh! my ſins are great, but that's no let,
In purchaſing my joy; Chriſt paid my debt:
But I muſt give account that's yet to make;
But He that paid my debt, my count muſt take.
The Authors Epigram.
OH! happy Lazarus, how maiſt thou ſtand ſure?
How ſwimſt thou in a ſea of joyes ſecure?
Thy debt is paid, which was ſo out of meaſure,
And paying that hath purchas'd thee a treaſure,
What needſt thou ſhake then at a judgement day?
Or of accounts, who haſt no debts to pay?
Or why ſhouldſt feare the Judges face to ſee
When as the Judge ſhall thy redeemer be?
But wretched Dives, wretched ſure indeed,
Thou haſt a boundleſſe fearfull bill to read,
Wherein thy debt is manifeſt and clear,
No croſſing there, no cancelling appear.
There was a time, but now that time is loſt,
Wherein thou might'ſt have got thy reckoning croſt:
How wilt thou anſwer to the Judge of heaven?
Thou canſt not pay, nor canſt thou be forgiven.
Dives.
MOſt wofull I, who now in wofull ruine,
In hell ſtill muſe of greater woes euſuing;
One woe doth another woe foreſhew,
Woe, endleſſe woe, my foreſight is too true.
My woes againe are yet as to begin,
Wretch, I have yet to anſwer for my ſin,
Where my indictment muſt be found indeed,
Before a Judge too, who will not be feed.
A Judge whoſe mercy I would not imbrace:
Where mercy moves not, juſtice muſt take place:
A Judge who once cry'd gently come away;
But thou ſhalt to me, goe you curſed ſay.
How will thoſe Angells and thoſe Saints abhor me
Which I abus'd, once ſeeking to doe for me?
How will thoſe divells which I once obey'd,
Then cry my wages ſhall be duly paid?
Lazarus.
YEe Cherubins and Seraphins, divine,
Come aid me with your tongues, or teach you mine,
That, in ſome meaſure, I may ſo expreſſe
My preſent joy in future happineſſe.
My joy conceiv'd of my Redemption day
When I ſhall meet my Saviour in the way,
Where I ſhall bleſſe the houre that I was borne,
When all the kind'reds of the earth ſhall mourn.
When earth, and all the burden on the ſame
Shall burne unto that nothing whence they came:
The skies ſhall melt, the ſtars, the ſunne, the moone
Shall join to make perpetuall night, at noone.
When, out of heav'n, the Judge of all, moſt true,
Shall come downe riding on the clouds, in view,
To bind the Divels, and the damned down:
How ſweetly ſhall He ſmile on me? not frown.
The Authors Epigram.
MOſt lambe like Lazarus, thou ſhalt be ſet by,
Thy blood is not requir'd, thou ſhalt not die,
When ſacrifice for ever ſhall remaine
In hell for ſin, the goats ſhall then be ſlaine.
Thou heer wert famiſh'd, when the goats did feed,
Their hearts were cheriſh'd, when thy heart did bleed,
But, when they ſhall be ſever'd from the ſheep,
Thou ſhalt rejoice, but they ſhall howle and weep.
But goat like Dives, thou ſhalt pay full deer,
For eating up the ſheep's allowance heer,
When they ſhall ſcape, thy blood ſhall then be ſhed,
Thou wert but for a day of ſlaughter fed.
Fond thou, who heer wouldſt have the upper hand,
Muſt on the left at heav'ns tribunall ſtand,
And heare the Judge this ſentence on thee paſſe,
Goe, curſed goat, my ſheep muſt have the graſſe.
Dives.
OH! wretched I, what ſhall of me become
When wretched, Goe ye curſed, be my doome?
How ſhall my ſoule and body both affrighted,
Then curſe the howr they were again united?
Then in what glory ſhall thoſe Saints appeare
At whom, proud aſſe, I once did ſlout and jeere?
How ſhall their bleſſing then increaſe my curſe?
My conſcience for a buſing of them, worſe.
How ſhall the Divels then with fury driven
Seaze me for hell, thus ſentenc'd out of heav'n?
And on me with much inſultation rage;
As if my torments might their owne aſſwage.
Then, with the hideous howling herd of hell,
I ſhall be thrown down to that dreadfull cell,
Where we in flames, which never faile, ſhall burne;
From whence we never, never, ſhall returne.
Lazarus.
HOw ſhall I prize thoſe words to me expreſt
Oh! Come thou bleſſed, enter thou my reſt?
Sweet meditations, heav'nly joyes in heart.
Theſe thoughts, indeed, are very heav'n in part.
How ſhall I then, who once was moſt debas'd,
Be, with much glory, on the right hand plac'd?
And ſit with Angels, and with Saints, to ſee
The bad condemned, and the good ſet free.
How ſhall I thence aſcend up far above
When my Redeemer ſhall his Court remove?
When Saints ſhall ſing, and Angels ſhall rejoyce,
How ſhall we mount up with a merry noyſe?
How juſtly then ſhall Jeſus wear the crown,
He having put all adverſaries down?
How lowd in heav'n ſhall I his prayſes ſing,
There grac'd to wait upon ſo great a King?
The Authors Epigram.
ONce ſilly Lazarus, now a Saint at reſt,
Ere long a judge, at laſt a ſon moſt bleſt:
Who could have ſeen when thou wert upon earth
That thou hadſt in thee any ſigne of worth?
When Kings and great men ſhall be in deſpaire
At the great Seſſions holden in the ayre,
There thou ſhalt in Commiſſion ſit: and thence
Aſcend far higher with the higheſt Prince.
But once rich Dives, now poore Dives nam'd,
Ere long arraign'd, at laſt for ever damn'd:
Who would have thought when thou wert in thy pride,
That robes of purple could ſuch ruines hide?
When Saints, which here thou mad'ſt to mourne, ſhall ſing
At heavens Aſſiſes, thou thy hands ſhalt wring,
And to the mountaines and the hils complaine
To fall, and hide thee; but alas, in vaine.
Dives.
TOrmented wretch, might I remaine in hell
Only in ſoule tormented it were well,
Well, though in woes which cannot be expreſt,
Yet, to the woes which are to come a reſt.
But oh! my body, which in earth now lying
Is as but in a furnace purifying
Till it be ſuch (when it is fully try'd)
As may for ever burning flames abide.
That muſt againe my wofull ſoule ingage,
Which burning priſon ſhall my ſoule inrage,
The one unto the other adding fuell
The angry divells evermore moſt cruell.
Oh! Adam, Adam, why fogot'ſt thou this
When thou for ever might'ſt have liv'd in bliſſe?
When thou on earth in Paradiſe didſt dwell,
Thou thought'ſt not then on a perpetuall hell.
Lazarus.
NOw happy? yea now heavenly I: and ſure
'Tis only that makes happineſſe ſecure;
When once my body from the grave be freed,
How ſhall I then be comforted indeed?
When my bleſt ſoule and body both united
Shall reigne in heaven, how ſhall I be delighted?
How ſhall I here be fully ſatisfi'd,
Where pleaſant ſtreames of endleſſe pleaſure glide?
One joy doth here another joy begin;
Increaſe of joyes makes joy increaſe therein.
Here from one fountaine rivers do diſtill,
Where Saints and Angels ever drinke their fill.
Here are thoſe riches which all wants ſupply,
Becauſe they alwayes fully ſatisfie:
Here are thoſe joyes which are for ever crown'd:
Here nothing elſe but joy is to be found.
The Authors Epigram.
LAzarus, Thy ſoule ſhall downe ere long retire
To give thy body motion to mount higher,
Moſt ſwiftly ſoaring on thy Eagle wings,
From earth to heaven unto the King of Kings.
How highly there ſhall heavenly Angels place thee?
How ſweetly there ſhall fellow Saints imbrace thee?
How welcome there ſhall Chriſt thy Saviour make thee?
How pleaſing there ſhall God the Father take thee?
But with thee Dives thus it ſhall not be,
The clean contrary ſhall be true in thee,
When thou in ſoule and body ſhalt be caſt
Into that gaping cave of hell at laſt.
How eager ſhall the divels then be on thee?
How gaſtly ſhall the damned gaze upon thee?
What outward tortours ſhalt thou feel within?
What endleſſe torments ſhalt thou then begin?
Dives.
OH! ſavage ſenſes, brutiſh appetites,
In ſenſuall pleaſure was your choice delights:
Your rage was only ruler in my heart,
You did command my underſtanding part.
Yea in my little Microcoſmus, vaine,
Did like ſo many heathen Princes reigne:
The world, and all things in the world at will
Were yours, and yet you unſufficed ſtill.
Thus all that world could not ſuffice my luſt,
The divells therefore in another muſt;
My appetites, which there did ſo excell,
Shall here be gorg'd with infinites in hell.
Each ſeveral ſenſe which could not there be cloy'd,
Shall here be fed till it would food avoid:
Only the difference that ſhall then appear,
There fed with pleaſures, but with torments here.
Lazarus.
THe outward ſenſes, which to ſome are thoſe
Where at they drink in rivers of repoſe:
Were unto me but Cunduit pipes of care
To let in floods of miſery and feare.
My ſenſes, and my appetites I grant,
Did often gape and hunger in my want,
But, for the moſt part, hunger'd in deſpaire,
Or fed on troubles, and infected ayre.
But when my body here above ſhall reigne
My ſenſes ſhall not covet here in vaine,
Each ſeverall ſenſe, and ſecret appetite
Shall here be fed with fuln…ſſe of delight.
Here is that banquet, which delight▪ each taſte:
Here is that oyle, which drawne on doth not waſte:
Here are thoſe caſes, once figur'd in a ſheet:
Here is that manna which is ever ſweet.
The Authors Epigram.
THus purblinde we on earth may partly ſee
What plagues in hell prepared be,
That ſeeing thoſe we ſo may have a care
To kill ſin heer, if be not puniſh'd there.
Thus, ſinfull we, whoſe ſinnes, or ſoules muſt die,
Our ſinnes heer, or our ſoules eternally,
May labour heer to put our ſinnes to death,
Our tender ſoules may ſcape eternall wrath.
And thus, again, when we have got, like men,
Some manly conqueſt over beaſtly ſin,
We may with comfort view thoſe joyes on high,
Where men ſhall live, that make their ſinnes to die.
Thus we of all may rightly make good uſe,
Fore-ſight of danger oft prevents abuſe:
And where the prize is glorious to behold,
It makes the dulleſt enterpriſer bold.
Dives.
MY ſenſe of taſte was upon earth that Cooke
Within whoſe Kitchin I moſt pleaſure tooke,
And when its ſacrifice was on the fire,
I offer'd up my earneſteſt deſire.
This ſug'red ſenſe, or rather ſavage beaſt,
Which oft devour'd, when I could not digeſt,
Which ſtill cri'd kill, let ſacrifice be ſlaine;
And drunk down liquor as the earth doth raine.
This idoll ſenſe, ſhall one day have its fill,
When ſoule and body's ſacrific'd in hell,
Where fiery fiends are cooks for ever killing,
And Divels tapſters, diligent in filling.
Which cookes with ſcorching ſhall my throat inflame
Thoſe tapſters powre down ſulphur in the ſame;
My ſoule with torments tortur'd for my ſin,
Shall curſe, blaſpheme, and roar, and rave within.
Lazarus.
MY ſenſe of taſte, or taſte of ſenſe, indeed,
Becauſe I was moſt ſenſible of need:
Requir'd on earth no cooke at all, becauſe
Still griping hunger gave my meat a ſawce.
Yea, I full oft was glad if I had meat,
Yea glad of that which others ſcorn'd to eat,
Yea glad of crums, yea often driven to faſt,
And glad to ſmell the meat I might not taſte.
But when I in my body ſhall be grac'd
To ſit in heaven where none but Saints are plac'd,
And, at moſt ſacred invitations given
Shall taſte the Supper of the Lambe in heaven.
My taſte ſhall then in reliſhing be skil'd,
And, with each ſweet diſtinguiſhed, be fill'd:
Yea taſte the ſweetneſſe of thoſe ſtreames of bloud,
Thoſe heavenly Fountaines, which on earth were ſhed.
The Authors Epigram.
DIves on earth with delicates was fil'd:
We taſte all dainties that the earth can yeeld:
Dives did in exceſſe of liquor ſin:
We tun down barrels, drown our ſelves therein.
Dives, thus drinking, thought not on the poore:
We are ſo drunken we forget them more:
Dives in hell muſt therefore ſuffer need,
Yea helliſh woes: then how ſhall we be freed?
But once poore Lazarus, who on earth diſtreſt,
Was both with hunger, and with thirſt oppreſt.
Yet in his conſcience then injoy'd that feaſt
In which we famiſh, or much faſt at leaſt.
He now in heaven already hath that ſtore
We never taſted, and ſhall yet have more:
For which he ſought: to which we make no haſte:
For which he long'd: in which we feel no taſte.
Dives.
MY ſenſe of ſmelling which was once ſo nice,
Each ſtincke offended it, but ſtincking vice;
I ſtopt my noſtrils, and I ſhut my doores,
To ſhut out Lazarus with his feſt'red ſores.
Which ayrie ſenſe refreſh'd my other powers
By ſweet perfumes, and odoriferous flowers,
Extracting thence ſuch ſavours of delight
As fed that moſt attractive appetite.
This ſenſe in the infecting fogs of hell
Shall ſuck moſt deadly ſavours by the ſmell,
And, ſtead of flowers, and ſweet perfuming, ſhall
Be fed with fumes of ſulphur boild in gall.
Beſides, the loathſome ſavours in this den
Of plagued, poyſon'd, and tormented men,
The ſtincke of fiends, and divells unto me
Is now moſt groſſe, and ſhall more grievous be.
Lazarus.
MY ſmelling did on earth ſome comfort give,
When I was forc'd Camelian like to live:
But ſweet perfumes and powders vainly ſpent
Made me not proud, to make the world a ſent.
Barns, ſtyes, and ſtables, and full glad of thoſe,
Were my perſumed lodgings of repoſe:
My empty ſtomack of this ſenſe annoy'd:
My ſtincking ſores my empty ſtomack cloy'd.
But when my body ſhall exalted be
To reigne in heaven, from all corruption free,
Where all things are moſt ſweet and purely try'd;
This ſenſe ſhall then be ſweetly ſatisfi'd.
This ſenſe ſhall then have the preheminence,
Made, of the five, the moſt reviving ſenſe;
If ſenſes then ſuch inſtruments ſhall prove,
By ſucking in ſome living ayre above.
The Authors Epigram.
IF Dives now could but thoſe dainties ſmell
He taſted here he would give thanks in Hell:
We taſte like dainties double, if not thrice,
And yet ungratefull in a Paradiſe.
But Dives, who here thought not at his board
Of God, hath now what Divels will afford:
We oft forget both God, and eke our ſelves,
Then what hereafter can we looke for elſe?
If Lazarus were on earth againe, no doubt,
He would but of our ſweeteſt odoures flout:
We, with our ſeeming ſug'red ſweets in love,
Are but in jeſt with ſweeteſt joyes above.
Lazarus did wiſely ſend up, ere he went,
His ſuits as incenſe, which now yeeld him ſent:
We, if we will not of the like deſpair,
Muſt ſend up firſt a ſavour ſweet by prayer.
Dives.
MY ſenſe of feeling, which on earth was that
I nurs'd moſt gently, as a tender brat.
No care was lacking to preſerve that ſenſe
From the ſuſtaining of the leaſt offence.
This ſenſe forſooth, might not endure the winde,
I little felt the ſmart in any kinde,
Of want, of woe, of ſickneſſe, or of ſin,
Within my ſelfe, much leſſe in other men.
But when my ſoule aſcending on a chaine,
Shall fetch my body hither from the ſlaine,
I here in hell …hall in that tender part
Be moſt tormented, feel the greateſt ſmart,
My body here faſt bound in fetters lying.
Shall tortur'd be in flames of ſulphur frying:
My ſoule moſt fully then ſhall feel the ſting
Of ſin, that ſerpent in my conſcience wring.
Lazarus.
FRe I was borne, within my mothers wombe
My ſenſe of feeling ſuffer'd in that tombe,
And only, ſadly, comming forth that cage,
I in that part did firſt ſalute earths ſtage.
And in that part I panted out my breath,
Till I was taken off that ſtage by death:
A wretched life inſu'd a painfull birth,
Moſt wretched, painfull Tragedy on earth.
But, as my ſoule, which was on earth diſtreſt,
Is now in heaven, return'd unto its reſt.
So ſhall my body breaking ope its grave,
Aſcend up hither from that ſilent cave.
Where it ſhall feel no hunger, cold nor ſmart,
But heavenly fulneſſe, and content of heart;
My feeling ſenſe to make its fulneſſe meaſure,
Shall here be only ſenſible of pleaſure.
The Authors Epigram.
LAzarus was here moſt patient in diſtreſſe:
We murmure, yea ſeem often mad in leſſe:
Lazarus was not here with his ſin diquieted:
We feel not that, or are with that delighted.
But Lazarus now doth feel his ſoule at reſt:
Our ſoules, alas, not yet with ſin diſtreſt:
But would we finde what Lazarus now doth feel,
Our hearts muſt firſt be gentle here, not ſteel.
Dives here might not feel the leaſt annoy,
But Dives he had there for here his joy.
If here we feel not penitentiall griefe
We ſhall feel deſp'rate with the damned theefe.
But Dives in his feeling ſenſe in hell
Is now moſt plagu'd, which plagues ſhall yet excell.
If we here make that tender ſenſe our god,
It will in hell be our moſt torturing rod.
Dives.
MY ſenſe of hearing which was once moſt nimble
To heare each Syrens ſugred tongue diſſemble,
Each ſound of pleaſure, muſick ſweet, and worſe,
Hells language, people ſwear, blaſpeme and curſe.
But when the cry of Lazarus full of care,
Did pierce the heavens, it could not make me heare:
Nor could thoſe voyces ſent from heaven, by preaching
Repent, repent, awake me with their teaching.
This ſenſe in hell, inſtead of muſicke ſweet,
When all the damned ſhall together meet,
Shall be compell'd to heare me helpe to make
A cry in hell would make the earth to ſhake.
We deſp'rate creatures roaring in hells flame:
The damned divells raging in the ſame:
Gods voice of juſtice like moſt hideous thunder,
Above us with his vengeance boyling under.
Lazarus.
MY hearing ſenſe I once did exerciſe
With the ſad ecchoes of my childrens cries,
My beating heart was in my boſome ſtung
To heare thoſe infants cry for food ſo young.
Beſides the ſad heart-breakings at the doore
Of rich men, rating of my children poore;
With churliſh checks, and threats of further griefe,
Inſtead of yeelding comfort or reliefe.
This ſenſe in heaven ſhall no ſuch language heare,
But come you bleſſed, kindeſt welcomes there:
No churliſh motions ever ſhall repell
My ſuits there granted; Dives is in hell.
This ſenſe in heaven to muſick ſhall attend
Which earthly ſenſes can not apprehend,
For ever raviſh'd with thoſe glorious Three,
To heare how ſweetly they in one agree.
The Authors Epigram.
DIves deny'd what Lazarus beg'd in want:
Dives now beg's, what Lazarus muſt not grant,
Impartiall Juſtice, doſt thy hand ſo guide
One drop of water may not fall beſide?
Then why are we ſo in our hearing gul'd
With the fond falſe enchantments of the world?
To ſtop our eares when poore men aske? and know
We muſt not beg, if we will not beſtow.
Dives, in hell, is now with horrour fill'd:
Lazarus hath muſicke what the heav'ns can yield:
Dives hence forth ſhall never hear of joy:
Lazarus ſhall never hear the leaſt annoy.
Let Dives then our daily warning be,
He once had muſicke, mirth as ſweet as we:
And, wiſely working on examples given,
Let Lazarus now allure our eares to heaven.
Dives.
MY eyes which once as windowes did appear,
Through which the worlds polluted face ſeem'd cleer;
By which falſe view my moſt fond heart became
To fall in love moſt deeply with the ſame.
The world, indeed, did ſo my wits ſurpriſe,
Its moale-hills ſeem'd huge mountaines in mine eies:
But to this caſement ſenſe of mine, alas,
Heav'n ſeem'd a mote: oh! moſt deceitfull glaſſe.
But theſe ſame eyes ſhall ſo wide open'd be
In hell, that I ſhall heer be forc'd to ſee
How they were once deluded; and confeſſe
Heav'n is the mountain, earth a moale, or leſſe.
Beſides, my ſight ſhall be tormented moſt
In hell, beholding hells infernall hoſt:
Where I for ever, one of them, ſhall view
How ugly fiends ſhall uſe that hidious crew.
Lazarus.
MY ſenſe of ſight which in me, as the Sun
Doth to the world, did ſhew me what was done:
This ſenſe, moſt cleer, when I on earth indur'd,
Was clouded moſt by ſtormes of tears obſcur'd.
And how could I forbeare ſuch ſhowers, to ſee
The world in robes, and none but rags for me?
The world in pleaſure, I in paine and griefe?
The world in plenty, I without reliefe?
But this my ſenſe, or thoſe my very eyes,
Reſtor'd my body when it ſhall ariſe,
Above all clouds, ſhall from ecclipſe be free'd,
All tears ſhall then be wip'd away indeed.
Then I ſhall in my body both behold
My body more reſplendent made then gold:
And ever view that heav'nly viſion ſweet
Wherein conjoin'd all heav'nly joyes doe meet.
The Authors Epigram.
LAzarus on earth, by earthly ſorrowes driven
To loath the earth, did lift his eyes to heav'n:
We upon earth, by earthly joyes inchanted,
Conceive no other, heav'nly are not wanted.
Lazarus in heav'n doth now injoy that mirth,
Which unto heav'n he look'd for, upon earth:
Our eyes aſleep, with earthly beauties lul'd,
Loſe the Creator, by the creature gul'd.
Dives on earth, with earthly Saints in love,
Look'd not for objects fairer far above:
If we here living, looke not having ſight,
For heaven, we dying ſhall not then have light.
But Dives now his curſed ſoule acquaints
In hell with ſuch as here he made his Saints:
If we hereafter better mates require
We muſt looke here to get acquaintanc… higher.
The Authors Petition to the Throne of Grace.
DIvineſt powers, thus by your aid inſpir'd,
My reſtleſſe muſe with quenchleſſe ſparkles fir'd,
Doſts through the world, each fragrant garden views,
And plucks thoſe flowers, ſhe thinks moſt fit to uſe.
Thus ſafely mounted on her hovering wings,
I taſte ſome ſweetneſſe of thoſe higher ſprings
Which from the pipes of ſacred fountaines flow,
By oddes more pleaſant then the ſtreams below.
Thus whiles the doter upon earthy toyes,
Delights in trifles, or more earthly joyes:
My thoughts are towring, not downe ſtooping here,
I take my pleaſure in a higher ſphere.
Thus, whiles the worldling night and day is toſt
To gain that wealth which muſt againe be loſt:
I reap ſuch gaine as theeves cannot betray,
Nor time, nor fate, nor tyrants take away.
Thus I of wealth in poverty may vant
Of mentall wealth, though otherwiſe in want:
But oh! you Authors of divineſt thrift,
Doe you inrich me with ſome further gift.
Thus leave me not, but give me power to ſtrive
To reach a ſtrain beyond contemplative;
Oh, teach my heart, doe that in temper bring
To ſtrike more fully on the practique ſtring.
Thus give me power that I my ſelfe may tread
Thoſe active meaſures I my ſelfe have made,
That what I proffer to the publicke view,
May in my ſelfe be ſecretly found true.
Not thus with ſweets fill others hands with poſies,
And in my boſome cankers ſtead of Roſes;
Not by my lines thus limit out a way
For others ſteps, and run my ſelfe aſtray.
But make my action ſuch, as in ſome part,
May give ſome life to my unpoliſh'd art,
That theſe my labours ſo may fruitfull be,
If not to others, yet at leaſt to me,
And others, by that concord ſweet invited,
Shall with the muſicke be at leaſt delighted.