Poems, Poems 2 – Epigrams
Holy Sonnets.
I.
AS due by many titles I reſigne
My ſelfe to thee, O God, firſt I was made
By thee, and for thee, and when I was decay'd
Thy blood bought that, the which before was thine,
I am thy ſonne, made with thy ſelfe to ſhine,
Thy ſervant, whoſe paines thou haſt ſtill repaid,
Thy ſheepe, thine Image, and till I betray'd
My ſelfe, a temple of thy Spirit divine;
Why doth the devill then uſurpe on mee?
Why doth he ſteale nay raviſh that's thy right?
Except thou riſe and for thine owne worke fight,
Oh I ſhall ſoone deſpaire, when I doe ſee
That thou lov'ſt mankind well, yet wilt'not chuſe me.
And Satan hates mee, yet is loth to loſe mee.
II.
Oh my blacke Soule! now thou art ſummoned
By ſickneſſe, deaths herald, and champion;
Thou art like a pilgrim, which abroad hath done
Treaſon, and durſt not turne to whence hee is fled,
Or like a thiefe, which till deaths doome be read,
Wiſheth himſelfe delivered from priſon;
But damn'd and hal'd to execution,
Wiſheth that ſtill he might be impriſoned;
Yet grace, if thou repent, thou canſt not lacke;
But who ſhall give thee that grace to beginne?
Oh make thy ſelfe with holy mourning blacke,
And red with bluſhing, as thou art with ſinne;
Or waſh thee in Chriſts blood, which hath this might
That being red, it dyes red ſoules to white.
III.
This is my playes laſt ſcene, here heavens appoint
My pilgrimages laſt mile; and my race
Idly, yet quickly runne, hath this laſt pace,
My ſpans laſt inch, my minutes lateſt point,
And gluttonous death, will inſtantly unjoynt
My body, and my ſoule, and I ſhall ſleepe a ſpace,
But my'ever-waking part ſhall ſee that face,
Whoſe feare already ſhakes my every joynt:
Then, as my ſoule, to'heaven her firſt ſeate, takes flight,
And earth borne body, in the earth ſhall dwell,
So, fall my ſinnes, that all may have their right,
To where they'are bred, and would preſſe me, to hell.
Impute me righteous, thus purg'd of evill,
For thus I leave the world, the fleſh the devill.
IV.
At the round earths imagin'd corners, blow
Your trumpets, Angells, and ariſe, ariſe
From death, you numberleſſe infinities
Of ſoules, and to your ſcattred bodies goe,
All whom the flood did, and fire ſhall o'erthrow,
All whom warre, death, age, agues, tyrannies,
Deſpaire, law, chance, hath ſlaine, and you whoſe eyes,
Shall behold God, and never taſt deaths woe,
But let them ſleepe, Lord, and mee mourne a ſpace,
For, if above all theſe, my ſinnes abound,
'Tis late to aske abundance of thy grace,
When wee are there; here on this lowly ground,
Teach mee how to repent; for that's as good
As if thou'hadſt ſeal'd my pardon, with thy blood.
V.
If poyſonous mineralls, and if that tree,
Whoſe fruit threw death on elſe immortall us,
If lecherous goats, if ſerpents envious
Cannot be damn'd; Alas; why ſhould I bee?
Why ſhould intent or reaſon, borne in mee,
Make ſinnes, elſe equall, in mee, more heinous?
And mercy being eaſie, and glorious
To God, in his ſterne wrath, why threatens hee?
But who am I, that dare diſpute with thee?
O God, Oh! of thine onelyonly worthy blood,
And my teares, make a heavenly Lethean flood,
And drowne in it my ſinnes blacke memorie,
That thou remember them, ſome claime as debt,
I thinke it mercy, if thou wilt forget,
VI.
Death be not proud, though ſome have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not ſoe,
For, thoſe, whom thou think'ſt, thou doſt overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canſt thou kill mee;
From reſt and ſleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleaſure, then from thee, much more muſt flow,
And ſooneſt our beſt men with thee doe goe,
Reſt of their bones, and ſoules deliverie
Thou art ſlave to Fate, chance, kings, and deſperate men,
And doth with poyſon, warre, and ſickneſſe dwell.
And poppie, or charmes can make us ſleepe as well,
And better then thy ſtroake; why ſwell'ſt thou then?
One ſhort ſleepe paſt, wee wake eternally,
And death ſhall be no more, death thou ſhalt die.
VII.
Spit in my face you Jewes, and pierce my ſide,
Buffet, and ſcoffe, ſcourge, and crucifie mee,
For I have ſinn'd, and ſinn'd, and onelyonly hee,
Who could do no iniquitie, hath dyed:
But by my death can not be ſatisfied
My ſinnes, which paſſe the Jewes impiety:
They kill'd once an inglorious man, but I
Crucifie him daily, being now glorified;
Oh let mee then, his ſtrange love ſtill admire:
Kings pardon but he bore our puniſhment.
And Iacob came cloth'd in vile harſh attire
But to ſupplant, and with gainfull intent
God cloth'd himſelfe in vile mans fleſh, that ſo
Hee might be weake enough to ſuffer woe.
VIII.
Why are wee by all creatures waited on?
Why doe the prodigall elements ſupply
Life and food to mee, being more pure then I,
Simple, and further from corruption?
Why brook'ſt thou, ignorant horſe, ſubjection?
Why doſt thou bull, and bore ſo ſeelily
Diſſemble weakneſſe, and by'one mans ſtroke die,
Whoſe whole kinde, you might ſwallow & feed upon?
Weaker I am, woe is mee, and worſe then you,
You have not ſinn'd, nor need be timorous,
But wonder at a greater wonder, for to us
Created nature doth theſe things ſubdue,
But their Creator, whom ſin, nor nature tyed,
For us, his Creatures, and his foes, hath dyed.
IX.
What if this preſent were the worlds laſt night?
Marke in my heart, O Soule, where thou doſt dwell,
The picture of Chriſt crucified, and tell
Whether his countenance can thee affright,
Teares in his eyes quench the amaſing light,
Blood fills his frownes, which from his pierc'd head fell
And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell,
Which pray'd forgiveneſſe for his foes fierce ſpight?
No, no; but as in my idolatrie
I ſaid to all my profane miſtreſſes,
Beauty, of pitty, foulneſſe onelyonly is
A ſigne of rigour: ſo I ſay to thee,
To wicked ſpirits are horrid ſhapes aſſign'd,
This beauteous forme aſſumes a pitious minde.
X.
Batter my heart, three perſon'd God; for, you
As yet but knocke, breathe, ſhine, and ſeeke to mend;
That I may riſe, and ſtand, o'erthrow mee, 'and bend
Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new,
I, like an uſurpt towne, to'another due,
Labour to'admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reaſon your viceroy in mee, mee ſhould defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weake or untrue,
Yet dearely'I love you, and would be lov'd faine,
But am betroth'd unto your enemie,
Divorce mee, 'untie, or breake that knot againe,
Take mee to you, impriſon mee, for I
Except you'enthral mee, never ſhall be free,
Nor ever chaſt, except you raviſh mee.
XI.
Wilt thou love God, as he thee! then digeſt,
My Soule, this wholſome meditation,
How God the Spirit, by Angels waited on
In heaven, doth make his Temple in thy breſt,
The Father having begot a Sonne moſt bleſt,
And ſtill begetting, (for he ne'r begonne)
Hath deign'd to chuſe thee by adoption,
Coheire to'his glory, 'and Sabbaths endleſſe reſt;
And as a robb'd man, which by ſearch doth finde
His ſtolne ſtuffe ſold, muſt loſe or buy'it againe:
The Sonne of glory came downe, and was ſlaine,
Us whom he'had made, and Satan ſtolne, to unbinde.
'Twas much, that man was made like God before,
But, that God ſhould be made like man, much more.
XII.
Father, part of his double intereſt
Unto thy kingdome, thy Sonne gives to mee,
His joynture in the knottie Trinitie,
Hee keepes, and gives to me his deaths conqueſt,
This Lambe, whoſe death, with life the world hath bleſt,
Was from the worlds beginning ſlaine, and he
Hath made two Wills, which with the Legacie
Of his and thy kingdome, doe thy Sonnes inveſt,
Yet ſuch are theſe laws, that men argue yet
Whether a man thoſe ſtatutes can fulfill;
None doth, but thy all-healing grace and Spirit,
Revive againe what law and letter kill,
Thy lawes abridgement, and thy laſt command
Is all but love; Oh let this laſt Will ſtand!
EPIGRAMS.
Hero and Leander.
BOth rob'd of aire, we both lye in one ground,
Both whom one fire had burnt, one water drownd.
Pyramus and Thisbe.
Two, by themſelves, each other, love and feare
Slaine, cruell friends, by parting have joyn'd here.
Niobe.
By childrens births, and death, I am become
So dry, that I am now mine owne ſad tombe.
A burnt ſhip.
Out of a fired ſhip, which, by no way
But drowning, could be reſcued from the flame,
Some men leap'd forth, and ever as they came
Neere the foes ſhips, did by their ſhot decay;
So all were loſt, which in the ſhip were found,
They in the ſea being burnt, they in the burnt ſhip drown'd.
Fall of a wall.
Under an undermin'd, and ſhot-bruis'd wall
A too-bold Captaine periſh'd by the fall,
Whoſe brave misfortune, happieſt men envi'd,
That had a towne for tombe, his bones to hide.
A lame begger.
I am unable, yonder begger cries,
To ſtand, or moue; if he ſay true, hee lies.
A ſelfe accuſer.
Your miſtris, that you follow whores, ſtill taxeth you:
'Tis ſtrange that ſhe ſhould thus confeſſe it, though'it be true.
A licentious perſon.
Thy ſinnes and haires may no man equall call,
For, as thy ſinnes increaſe, thy haires doe fall.
Antiquary.
If in his Studie he hath ſo much care
To'hang all old ſtrange things, let his wife beware.
Diſinherited.
Thy father all from thee, by his laſt Will
Gave to the poore; Thou haſt good title ſtill,
Phryne.
Thy flattering picture, Phryne, is like thee,
OnelyOnly in this, that you both painted be.
An obſcure writer.
Philo, with twelve yeares ſtudy, hath beene griev'd,
To'be underſtood, when will hee be beleev'd.
Klockius ſo deeply hath ſworne, ne'r more to come
In bawdie houſe, that hee dares not goe home.
Raderus.
Why this man gelded Martiall I muſe,
Except himſelfe alone his tricks would uſe,
As Katherine, for the Courts ſake, put downe Stewes.
Mercurlus Gallo-Belgicus.
Like Eſops fellow-ſlaves, O Mercury,
Which could do all things, thy faith is; and I
Like Eſops ſelfe, which nothing; I confeſſe
I ſhould have had more faith, if thou hadſt leſſe;
Thy credit loſt thy credit: 'Tis ſinne to doe,
In this caſe, as thou wouldſt be done unto,
To beleeve all: Change thy name: thou art like
Mercury in ſtealing, but lyeſt like a Greeke.
Compaſſion in the world againe is bred:
Ralphius is ſick, the broker keeps his bed.