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Grapes from Canaan · Francis Taylor

Grapes from Canaan, Encomia – Errata

To his Honored Cozin, Mr. Francis Taylor, upon his Divine Poem. foreign.

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foreign Et Paulo Poſt. v. 63.Homer Odyſ. θ. v. 43. Ubi forſan ſeipſum reſpexiſſe videatur, qua vulgari fama coecus perhibetur.

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What Singer's this the Poet calls for thus?

Me thinks Dear Taylor thou'rt this Demodocus.

'Tis thine Urania, that hath given thee,

Inſtead of eyes, this vein of Poeſie.

Thou ſeeſt not Earth, yet pierceſt Heaven, thine eye

Is more ſublime, beholds Eternity.

The glaring luſters of the world may pleaſe

The luſts of ſenſual eyes; but none of theſe

Have ought of real Glory in their ſight

VVhoſe ſouls are fill'd with a diviner light.

This heavenly light adorns thy nobler mind,

The world's miſtaken, that accounts thee blind:

A veile 'tis true is drawn over thy ſenſe,

Yet not without a gracious Providence.

For thus thy God hath made the world to thee

Known as it is, and what't will ever be,

Even darkneſs ſtill. This hath thy glory bin

While th' Curtain's drawn without, thou'rt light within.

And here thou haſt th' advantage too, while we,

That fondly pleaſe our ſelves, and ſay we ſee,

Yet muſt confeſs, ſo long as day and night

Do keep their conſtant turns, darkneſs and light

Have their ſucceſſions in us, and that all

The light, we have, is but an interval.

Theſe changes touch not thee, to whom (we ſay)

'Tis ever dark, and yet 'tis ever day.

Thy ſoul beholds that glory, and that crown, *1 Cor. 2.9.VVhichWhich never yet to mortal eye was ſhewen.

So true is that even in Philoſophie,

'Tis not the eye, the ſoul alone doth ſee.

Thou *So are the Prophets called Seers, 1 Sam. 9.9.ſeeſt &

†And Guides, Pſ. 78.72. Acts 8.31.—35.guideſt too, that others may

By thy Seraphick Poem find the way

To that caeleſtial throne, yea charm'ſt their cars

By this the trueſt harmony of the ſpheares.

Thus Art doth Piety ſweetly greet,

The Muſes and the Graces meet.Ovid. Faſtor. l. 1

Felices animae, quibus haec cognoſcere primis,

Inque domus ſuper as ſcandere cura fuit.

Credibile eſt illos pariter vitiiſque *Vulg. jociſ que Sic autem corrigenti Doctiſſimo D. Grajo noſtro lubentiffime aſſurgo.lociſque

Altus humanis exſeruiſſe caput.

foreign Joh. Stileman. M.A. Paſtor Eccleſiae Tunbrigignſis in Agro Cantiano.

To his dear Friend, Mr. Francis Taylor, upon his Grapes from Canaan, &c. being nocturnal Meditations on his Reſtleſs Bed.

SIght is a bleſſing, God hath made you blind,

Yet far more bleſt, in your enlightned mind.

Our pur-blind eyes, which dazle at the glory

Of worldly Objects, fraile and tranſitory,

Allure our minds, to fix their Meditation

On earthly Vanities, fond Contemplation!

Your Eagle light, piercing beyond the sky,

Beholds the glory of Eternity,

Height-ning your ſoul, its purer thoughts to place

On the rich ſubſtance of immortal Grace.

Sleep is a bleſſing, which you cannot find,

Yet far more bleſſed in your waking mind.

Our Nights in ſleeping ſpent, we ſeem to ly

Among the …ad, beneath the Canopy;

No thought of God, no Prayers, nor no Praiſe,

Can ſenſe-bound ſleepers up to Heaven raiſe.

Your waking mind, among the Living dwells

VVithin the veile, where bleſſedneſs excels,

VVhere Saints coeleſtial, with Angels ſing,

Eternal Praiſe, to the Eternal King.

VVe ſee thoſe Vines, which in this Deſart grow;

You ſpy that Vine, where Milk and Honey flow;

VVe Cluſters pluck by Day, but ſowre and tart;

You gather Grapes by Night moſt ſweet, which Art

Had we obtain'd, though neither ſight; nor reſt,

Yet taſting of ſuch Grapes, we ſhould be bleſt.

Clement Barling.

To his dark Friend upon his Divine Poem of the Glory of Heaven.

WHen God firſt will'd the ſtar-light of thine eyes

To ſet, He then commanded to ariſe

The Sun-ſhine of his Glory in thy ſoul;

And us to ſee how He, without controul,

Can bring Light out of Darkneſs, and can make

Thy loſs thy gain, thy miſery our miſtake.

Wee'l therefore praiſe him for that ſight which He

Hath given thee in exchange, and whereby we

Do learn, the leſs on earth we fix our eye,

The firmer may our hearts be fixt on high.

I'have ſometime thought thee blind, but now I ſee

'Twas my own thoughts were darkned; as for thee,

Thou only hadſt thy ſight a while ſequeſtred,

To keep thy higher thoughts from being peſt'red

With Earths diverſions; nay, who will not ſay,

That reads with care what thou do'ſt here diſplay,

But that this thy Divine Apocalyps

Doth ſpeak thine eye-ſight only in th' eclipſe

By th' interpoſing beams of that great light

Above, whoſe glory dazles natures ſight,

And bids her wink, that grace a glimpſe may get

Of what no eye hath ſeen, nor ear as yet

Hath heard, nor is conceiv'd in any heart,

Except (as now to thee) reveal'd in part.

Henceforth therefore I ſhall not dare to think

Thee dark, but only that God bad thee wink

A while, till he had taught this froward age

To know, not only from what every page

Of theſe thy ſpiritual Opticks tells to all,

But likewiſe from thy Preaching, and thy Call,

That (maugre all ſuch ſpirits as are freer

To wreſt, than ſpeak the truth) thou art a Seer.

Go on then with thy Muſe, let her keep ſight

Of what ſhe hath ſpy'd, and follow by the light

Of Grace, that ſpirit which taught thy ſoul this ſtory

Until thy Grace is ſwallow'd up of Glory.

TO Mr. FRAN. TAYLOR, ON HIS Grapes from Canaan.

Taylor,

THou art no Water Poet, not by wine

Art thou inſpir'd, thy genius is Divine,

And ſtoops not to that Helicon, thy Quill

Soars higher than the proud Parnaſſus hill;

Thou on the Holy Mount above haſt been

In Contemplation, and hid things haſt ſeen:

Like that ſton'd Martyr Steven, we may look,

And behold Heaven open'd, in thy Book.

Thy blindneſs ſhames, and much out-does our ſight;

Our day is dark, and cloudy to thy night:

Thy piercing eyes of Faith, and knowledge pry

Into thoſe things, that in the vaile do lie.

And the third heavens ſecrets look upon

Which are the bleſſed Saints rich portion.

Thus that choice veſſel Paul, his ſight being gone,

Did ſee more clearly, and had's viſion.

I might thee ſtile the Homer of this age,

Did not thy richer, and ſublimer page

Forbid, which in its pure and ſacred ſtrain

All Boerry (but Fiction) doth contain;

Thou only meaſur'd truths doſt tell in that

Celeſtial Globe of thine, and heav'nly Map.

Let profane Poets looſe and wanton Muſe

Be damned to the Grocer's ſervile uſe;

Thine is to us more uſeful than a ſtar

In Navigation to the Mariner:

It ſteels the brow 'gainſt threats, in ſtorms it chears,

In dangers comforts, animates in fears,

And makes us with a vertuous ſcorn diſdain

To yield in Tryals, and count loſſes gain:

It doth relieve, although it doth rehearſe

(High myſteries) our dulneſs with its verſe.

Thus Artiſts ſay, an Emrald ſtanding by

In cutting Jewels, helps the weaker eye.

Tho. Woodrooffe, M. A.

TO His Honoured Friend, Mr. Francis Taylor. ON HIS Heavenly Poem.

Dear Friend,

WEre't not a Solaetiſme in Love, I'd ſay

Welcome from heav'n (for ſure y'have been that way)

But if not ſo, it muſt from Patmos be,

VVhere you have ſeen Landskip'd-Eternitie.

Were Metempſychoſis in faſhion now,

'Tis probable Saint John muſt live in you:

Your Book's a Fountain, but the Seals are gon,

And all you write is Revelation:

VVhichWhich when I read, my ſoul is raviſh'd, and

(Like to Religion) doth on tip-toe ſtand,

Threatning departure in ſweet extaſy,

In which I neither truly live, nor dye;

And what to Plato's Schollar did betide,

(Were't not a crime) I could turn Suicide.

But tell me firſt, when you did ſit above,

In that high azure tent, where ſtars do move,

Did not our world look like ſome dirty ſpot?

Pray ſay, Could you ſee it, or could you not?

How vainly then do moſt by acres gueſs

At worth, and miſ call Riches Happineſs!

Nay more, when once your Faith was got within

Thoſe Empyraean Curtains, where no ſin

But ſinners do find place: pray tell me then

(Your mem'ry's good I know) what were the men

That ſang thoſe holy Notes? Did you not ſee

Some Lawn-ſleev'd Saints, and ſome Presbyterie?

Did not ſometimes an Independent ayre,

Sometimes a Baptiſt-Quaker mingle there?

No doubt there did: how fondly then do we

Fall out i'th' way, who muſt i'th' End agree!

VVe all embrace one fundamental Light,

Our hands do joyn, but yet our nails do fight.

Come welcome hour, in which my ſun ſhall ſet,

And Church-yard graſs ſhall be my Coronet:

For who will throw away one Pray'r for Life,

VVhen Heav'n ſo calm, and Earth ſo full of ſtrife?

VVhen Chriſtendom her fields are now beſpred

All o're with killing-troops and with the dead:

Like Cannibals our weekly-Gazets feed,

On purple Broth which dying Chriſtians bleed:

As if Baptiſmal water were too faint,

And coole an Element to make a ſaint;

Our boyſtrous age winds up the Nation high'r

And needs muſt be baptiz'd with bloud and fire.

For many years Intelligences came

Proclaiming wilde-fire from the Germane flame,

Where kindred-bloud was mingled with the Rhyne,

To waſh away th' exceſſes of their wine.

And now the ſturdy Swede with skilful ſteel

Doth let all Poland bloud, to make it feel

This two-edg'd truth; when God thinks fit to beat,

Luther ſhall ſtrike as hard as Mahomet.

But ſtay; theſe lines do run too black: my Pray'r

Shall therefore be for Englands paſſeover:

And while the Maids plant Laurels on your Brow,

I'le ſing an Eulogy to Faith, and You.

Triumphant Faith! How ſtoutly do'ſt thou ſcorn

The teſtimony which from ſenſe is born!

Enoch by Faith Death's Trophyes did out-brave,

And where we fall, he did o're-leap his grave,

Still winding up the weights of fleſh ſo high,

His body ſtep'd into Eternity.

Nought could fore-tel but Faith's Aſtrology,

The world debauch'd muſt of a Dropſie dye;

But leſt the ſtorm ſhould blow the Globe away,

Good Noah caſts Faith's anchor out to ſtay

The tottring Clod, and in his pinnace ſleeps

VVhere all the ſeminals of life he keeps.

By this when Sarah in her wrinckls lay,

And all her white and red did fade away,

VVhen ſnow was all the locks ſhe wore, then ſhe

Dandled by Faith her Iſaac on her knee.

Faiths Bull-ruſh 'twas kept Moſes like a ſwan

On Nilus lapp, and when he was grown man

He foild the guilded-dangers of a court,

And made dry paths where whales were wont to ſport.

And leſt ſome Atheiſt, ſhould in Sarcaſmes ſay

Faith then was young, but now ſhee's weak & gray:

Behold a Chriſtian Homer without eyes

By Faith out-ſees two Univerſities.

William Jacob, foreign.

TO His Honoured Friend, Mr. Francis Taylor, Upon His Grapes from Canaan; OR, The Believers preſent taſte of future glory.

AWake my Muſe, take up thy Lyre,

And make one of this ſacred quire;

Who would not gladly ſhow his art

VVhere ev'ry creature adds its part?

Mark how the Birds do ſweetly frame

Their Voice to blaze their Makers fame!

Hark how they chirp and flock together,

Provoking to this work each other!

VVho, though with much alacrity

They all proclaim a Deity,

None to ſo high a Note can riſe

As this rare Bird of Paradiſe.

Thou art the Orpheus of our age

Whoſe quill, when ſtorms within do rage,

With ſuch ſweet noiſe doth fill our ear

As can't be told by thoſe that hear.

Thy lines, thy words, and ev'ry letter

Are ſo well ſuited to thy matter,

That from King David I'le defend it,

Thou mayſt be lineally deſcended.

He of the Earthly City wrot,

To praiſe the Heavenly is thy Plot;

VVhoſe glory doth ſo ſhine in thee

Though blind thou can'ſt not chuſe but ſee.

When once the Soul hath fix't its eye

Upon the Glorie of things on high,

And ſeen its Chriſt within the vaile,

What matter though the Body's faile.

Haſte then my Soul! VVith this good guide

Haſte to that Glory here deſcri'd;

Thou need'ſt not fear to go aſtray,

VVhen this great Seer leads the way.

VVhere Angels and where Seraphim,

VVhere bleſſed Saints and Cherubin,

Praiſes continually do ſing

To God, our God, and heavenly King.

Frederick Primroſe.

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Amico ſuo ingenioſiſſimo celeberrimi hujus Poematis Authori merito hoc encomiaſticon commendat N.…. Philo-Porta.

REgia marmoreis pluſquam fabricata columnis

Celſa Dei eſt, ſeſe extendens per inane locorum;

Lucidior gemmis; Chryſtallo purior omni

Conſpicuo, longe fulvo rutilantior auro:

Firmior & domibus multo fluitantibus orbis;

Nomina, cum titulis, nec non adjuncta ſacratis,

Hujus coeleſtis Paradiſi, conſuis ipſe haec

Omnia Taylere inſignis. Beatifica dona,

Fulgoris radiis complentia corpora pura,

Ut que ſigillatim memores! Ut agilia narres!

Non moritura unquam! Forma nitidiſſima! Nec non

(Attributa quidem haec!) incompatibilia! Deinde

Lux, & felicitas animarum clara ſacrarum;

Cognitio ſcilicet gemmans, dominum que amor erga

Seſe & perfectus, collucent verſibus aptis.

Haectua depinxit graphice pia, docta Camaena;

(Dulcis Amice) ſtylum poliit tua lima Britannum,

Carmine ſuaviſono; ſcandant ſuper aethera laudes.

Non torrem oſtendam ſoli; mea Muſa ſileſcet

More Timanthaeo obvolvens haec ardua nube.

To my Loving Friend, Mr. Fran. Taylor, upon his excellent Poem, entituled, Grapes from Canaan, &c.

DEpriv'd of ſight can he be ſaid to be

Who ſees the light? How true is this of thee!

Thy ſoul is full of eyes, whoſe ſight refin'd

See far, although thou bodily art blind.

Let this to none a Paradox appear

That thou a blind-man art, and yet a Seer.

Paul was wrap't up into the heavens third ſtory:

So thou, which made thee limne ſo well its glory.

Thy skill hath made Objects remote t' appear

Cloſe by; and things a diſtance off ſeem neer.

Sin is alas! an interpoſing ſcreen,

A ſeparating wall, which ſtands between

Glory and us; but by thine heavenly art

Glory's revealed unto us in part.

Thine underſtandings ſearch hath brought to light

Secrets abſtruſe; O blindneſs bleſt for ſight!

The Spaniards Dove Columbus, and our Drake,

(Not Quaking in the leaſt) did undertake

A long, and dang'rous voyage; ſayling over

Remoteſt Seas, new Ilands to diſcover.

Home they return, their richer veſſels hold

A fraught of nought, but glorious luggage Gold.

Had they both Indies, and could Numid-like

Meaſure their unſumm'd treaſure by a ſtrike;

Time would conſume it; what a thief is Chink?

The greateſt baggs will in the uſing ſhrink.

Alas! alas! the Glory they did win

Was earthly, vain; their Bullion falling in

A deep conſumption, pin'd away by leaſure;

See there the end of their laborious pleaſure!

But as for thee (my truly Honor'd Friend)

Thou Rigg'ſt thy Veſſel for an other end.

Thy braver ſpirit doth with ſcorn diſdain

The roaming here, upon the foaming Main.

Grace is the Ship, thy ſoul doth go aboard;

Thy Faith's the Sayl, thy Steers-man is Gods Word;

His Spirit's the Wind, that drives thee by degrees

O're the calm back of th' Erythraean ſeas,

I mean Chriſt's bloud: thou tak'ſt a view of heaven,

Returneſt richly fraught with Jewels, given

By God himſelf; by doing good thou thriv'ſt,

Thy lands enrich'd; this is the trade thou driv'ſt.

Like Noahs Dove, thou canſt not, doſt not ceaſe,

Until thou bringſt an Olive-branch of Peace.

Wouldſt thou view heaven on earth (kind Reader) then

Let thine eye trace the foot-ſteps of his pen

Steer'd by an others hand; be pleas'd to look

On the Reflections of this precious Book:

And here it is, heavens glorious Objects paſs

Unto Faiths eye, through this proſpective glaſs.

Doſt thou deſire with beauties moſt ſublime

T'enrich thy ſoul, engarriſon'd with ſlime?

Shake off Earths dangling fetters which keep down

Thy lab'ring ſoul from riſing to its Crown.

The tranſient pleaſures of this Mole-hill Earth,

Afford at beſt but melancholy mirth:

But joyes in heaven, which are only ſure

And ſtable, ſhall eternally endure

In ſpight of time; there the bleſ'd Saints advance

Their heightned notes above the reach of chance.

Be practically good; bid ſin good-b'wy,

And Glory's thine, I'le warrant you; I, I,

'Tis thine, 'tis thine; the heavens have decreed

It thine, it thine. Beatitude indeed!

Wouldſt thou be made one of the royal ſtem,

And Den'ſon of the New-Jeruſalem?

Be ſure thou follow this directive way,

And then thou wilt not, nay, thou canſt not ſtray.

Heav'n ſhield us all from the worlds Philtrecharms,

And hold us faſt in his encircling arms;

O may we ever in that Glory reſt,

Which our rare Author ſweetly hath expreſt!

Thrice happy be that ſoul, who (thirſting) gapes

To drink this liquor, preſt from Canaans Grapes.

Canterbury, July 1. 1657. Nicholas Billingsley.

The Table.

A Believers preſent taſte of future glory Page 1

Heavens glory not to be fully dsplaid in this life Page 3

Heavens Glory ſet out by 6 Properties Page 8

1 Its Altitude ibid

2 Its Magnificence Page 10

3 Its Purity Page 12

4 Its Amplitude Page 14

5 Its Brightneſs ibid

6 Its Permanency Page 16

Heavens glory further ſet out by ſundry Scripture-names, titles & epithites, as Page 18

1 A Kingdom Page 19

2 A Heavenly Kingdom Page 20

3 The Kingdom of God ibid

4 An Inheritance Page 21

5 An incorruptible Inheritance ibid

6 An exceeding & eternal weight of glory Page 22

The Saints ſhall be with Chriſt in heaven Page 24

They ſhall be all Kings Page 29

They ſhall be all filled with joy Page 31

They ſhall have perfect Reſt Page 34

They ſhall have full Security Page 36

There ſhall be a vindication of their names Page 39

Their Graces ſhall be perfected Page 42

The Beauty and Bleſſedneſs of Glorified Bodres Page 44

1 They are Immortal Page 46

2 Impaſſible Page 48

3 Agile Page 49

4 Amtable Page 51

The Beauty and Bleſſedneſs of Glorified Souls Page 52

1 Their Knowledge perfected Page 53

2 Their Love perfected Page 59

Five Practical Concluſions Page 64

Four Marks of our Intereſt in Heaven Page 75

A General Concluſion Page 82

Faiths Triumph Page 86

ERRATA.

In page 3. line 5. for the comprehenſible, r. th' incomprehenſible: p. 17. l. 9. for man r. men: p. 31. l. 5. for joyn'd r. joyned. p. 40. l. 27. for ſtiled r. ſtil'd. p. 47. l. 2. for our r. over. p. 49. l. 21. for at r. it. p. 51. l. 15. r. bodies. p. 62. l. 9. r. keep. p. 62. l. 16. r. wound. p, 71. l. 13. r. makes.