Poems 2, Poem 2 – Poem 12
The Hymn.
I.
IT was the Winter wilde,
While the Heav'n-born-childe,
All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies▪
Nature in aw to him
Had doff't her gawdy trim,
With her great Maſter ſo to ſympathize▪
It was no ſeaſon then for her
To wanton with the Sun her luſty Paramour.
II.
OnelyOnly with ſpeeches fair
She woo's the gentle Air
To hide her guilty front with innocent Snow▪
And on her naked ſhame,
Pollute with ſinfull blame,
The Saintly Vail of Maiden white to throw,
Confounded, that her Makers eyes
Should look ſo neer upon her foul deformities.
III.
But he her fears to ceaſe,
Sent down the meek-eyd Peace,
She crown'd with Olive green, came ſoftly ſliding
Down through the turning ſphear
His ready Harbinger,
With Turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing,
And waving wide her mirtle wand,
She ſtrikes a univerſall Peace through Sea and Land.
IV.
No War, or Battails ſound
Was heard the World around:
The idle ſpear and ſhield were high up hung▪
The hooked Chariot ſtood
Unſtain'd with hoſtile blood,
The Trumpet ſpake not to the armed throng,
And Kings ſate ſtill with awfull eye,
As if they ſurely knew their ſovran Lord was by.
V.
But peacefull was the night
Wherin the Prince of light
His raign of peace upon the earth began:
The Windes with wonder whiſt,
Smoothly the waters kiſt,
Whiſpering new joyes to the milde Ocean,
Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
While Birds of Calm ſit brooding on the charmed wave▪
VI.
The Stars with deep amaze
Stand fixt in ſtedfaſt gaze,
Bending one way their pretious influence,
And will not take their flight,
For all the morning light,
Or Lucifer that often warn'd them thence;
But in their glimmering Orbs did glow,
Untill their Lord himſelf beſpake, and bid them go.
VII.
And though the ſhady gloom
Had given day her room,
The Sun himſelf with-held his wonted ſpeed,
And hid his head for ſhame,
As his inferiour flame,
The new-enlightn'd world no more ſhould need;
He ſaw a greater Sun appear
Then his bright Throne, or burning Axletree could bear.
VIII.
The Shepherds on the Lawn,
Or ere the point of dawn,
Sate ſimply chatting in a ruſtick row;
Full little thought they than,
That the mighty Pan
Was kindly com to live with them below;
Perhaps their loves, or els their ſheep,
Was all that did their ſilly thoughts ſo buſie keep.
IX.
When ſuch muſick ſweet
Their hearts and ears did greet,
As never was by mortall finger ſtrook,
Divinely-warbled voice
Anſwering the ſtringed noiſe,
…all their ſouls in blisfull rapture took▪
The Air ſuch pleaſure loth to loſe,
With thouſand echo's ſtill prolongs each heav'nly cloſe▪
X.
Nature that heard ſuch ſound
Beneath the hollow round
Of Cynthia's ſeat, the Airy region thrilling,
Now was almoſt won
To think her part was don,
And that her raign had here its laſt fulfilling;
She knew ſuch harmony alone
Could hold all Heav'n and Earth in happier union.
XI.
At laſt ſurrounds their ſight
A Globe of circular light,
That with long beams the ſhame-fac…t night array'd,
The helmed Cherubim
And ſworded Seraphim,
Are ſeen in glittering ranks with wings diſplaid.
Harping in loud and ſolemn quire,
With unexpreſſive notes to Heav'ns new-born Heir.
XII.
Such Muſick (as 'tis ſaid)
Before was never made,
But when of old the ſons of morning ſung,
While the Creator Great
His conſtellations ſet,
And the well-ballanc't world on hinges hung,
And caſt the dark foundations deep,
And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel keep.
XIII.
Ring out ye Cryſtall ſphears,
Once bleſs our human ears,
(If ye have power to touch our ſenſes ſo)
And let your ſilver chime
Move in melodious time;
And let the Baſe of Heav'ns deep Organ blow,
And with your ninefold harmony
Make up full conſort to th' Angelike ſymphony.
XIV.
For if ſuch holy Song
Enwrap our fancy long,
Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold,
And ſpeckl'd vanity
Will ſicken ſoon and die,
And leprous ſin will melt from earthly mould,
And Hell it ſelf will paſs away,
And leave her dolorous manſions to the peering day.
XV.
Yea Truth, and Juſtice then
Will down return to men,
Th'enameld Arras of the Rainbow wearing,
And Mercy ſet between,
Thron'd in Celeſtiall ſheen,
With radiant feet the tiſſued clouds down ſtearing,
And Heav'n as at ſom feſtivall,
Will open wide the Gates of her high Palace Hall.
XVI.
But wiſeſt Fate ſayes no,
This muſt not yet be ſo,
The Babe lies yet in ſmiling Infancy
That on the bitter croſs
Muſt redeem our loſs;
So both himſelf and us to glorifie:
Yet firſt to thoſe ychain'd in ſleep,
The wakefull trump of doom muſt thunder through the deep,
XVII.
With ſuch a horrid clang
As on mount Sinai rang
While the red fire, and ſmouldring clouds out brake:
The aged Earth agaſt
With terrour of that blaſt,
Shall from the ſurface to the center ſhake;
When at the worlds laſt ſeſſion,
The dreadfull Judge in middle Air ſhall ſpread his throne.
XVIII.
And then at laſt our bliſs
Full and perfect is,
But now begins; for from this happy day
Th'old Dragon under ground
In ſtraiter limits bound,
Not half ſo far caſts his uſurped ſway,
And wrath to ſee his Kingdom fail,
Swindges the ſcaly Horrour of his foulded tail.
XIX.
The Oracles are dumm,
No voice or hideous humm
Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.
Apollo from his ſhrine
Can no more divine,
With hollow ſhreik the ſteep of D…lphos leaving.
No nightly trance, or breathed ſpell,
Inſpire's the pale-ey'd Prieſt from the prophetic cell.
XX.
The lonely mountains o're,
And the reſounding ſhore,
A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;
From haunted ſpring, and dale
Edg'd with poplar pale.
The parting Genius is with ſighing ſent,
With flowre-inwov'n treſſes torn
The Nimphs in twilight ſhade of tangled thickets mourn.
XXI.
In conſecrated Earth,
And on the holy Hearth,
The Lars, and Lemures moan with midnight plaint,
In Urns, and Altars round,
A drear, and dying ſound
Affrights the Flamins at their ſervice quaint▪
And the chill Marble ſeems to ſweat,
While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted ſeat.
XXII.
Peor, and Baalim,
Forſake their Temples dim,
With that twiſe batter'd god of Paleſtine,
And mooned Aſhtaroth,
Heav'ns Queen and Mother both,
Now ſits not girt with Tapers holy ſhine,
The Libyc Hammon ſhrinks his horn,
In vain the Tyrian Maids their wounded Thamuz mourn.
XXIII.
And ſullen Moloch fled,
Hath left in ſhadows dred,
His burning Idol all of blackeſt hue,
In vain with Cymbals ring,
They call the griſly king,
In diſmall dance about the furnace blue,
The brutiſh gods of Nile as faſt,
Iſis and Orus, and the Dog Anubis haſt.
XXIV.
Nor is Oſiris ſeen
In Memphian Grove, or Green,
Trampling the unſhowr'd Graſſe with lowings loud:
Nor can he be at reſt
Within his ſacred cheſt,
Naught but profoundeſt Hell can be his ſhroud,
In vain with Timbrel'd Anthems dark
The ſable-ſtoled Sorcerers bear his worſhipt Ark.
XXV.
He feels from Juda's Land
The dredded Infants hand,
The rayes of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;
Nor all the gods beſide,
Longer dare abide,
Not Typhon huge ending in ſnaky twine:
Our Babe to ſhew his Godhead true,
Can in his ſwadling bands controul the damned …rew.
XXVI.
So when the Sun in bed,
Curtain'd with cloudy red,
Pillows his chin upon an Orient wave.
The flocking ſhadows pale,
Troop to th'infernall jail,
Each fetter'd Ghoſt ſlips to his ſeverall grave,
And the yellow-skirted Fayes,
Fly after the Night-ſteeds, leaving their Moon-lov'd maze.
XXVII.
But ſee the Virgin bleſt,
Hath laid her Babe to reſt.
Time is our tedious Song ſhould here have ending,
Heav'ns youngeſt teemed Star,
Hath fixt her poliſht Car.
Her ſleeping Lord with Handmaid Lamp attending.
And all about the Courtly Stable,
Bright-harneſt Angels ſit in order ſerviceable.
A Paraphraſe on Pſalm 114.
This and the following Pſalm were don by the Author at fifteen yeers old.
WHen the bleſt ſeed of Terah's faithfull Son,
After long toil their liberty had won,
And paſt from Pharian fields to Canaan Land,
Led by the ſtrength of the Almighties hand,
hovah's wonders were in Iſrael ſhown,
is praiſe and glory was in Iſrael known.
…at ſaw the troubl'd Sea, and ſhivering fled,
nd ſought to hide his froth-becurled head
ow in the earth, Jordans clear ſtreams recoil,
As a faint hoſt that hath receiv'd the foil.
The high, huge-bellied Mountains skip like Rams
Amongſt their Ews, the little Hills like Lambs.
Why fled the Ocean? And why skipt the Mountains?
Why turned Jordan toward his Cryſtall Fountains?
…hake earth, and at the preſence be agaſt
Of him that ever was, and ay ſhall laſt,
That glaſſy flouds from rugged rocks can cruſh,
And make ſoft rills from fiery flint-ſtones guſh▪
Pſalm 136.
LEt us with a gladſom mind▪
Praiſe the Lord, for he is kind,
For his mercies ay endure,
Ever faithfull, ever ſure.
…et us blaze his Name abroad,
…or of gods he is the God▪
For &c.
O let us his praiſes tell,
That doth the wrathfull tyrants quell.
For, &c.
That with his miracles doth make
Amazed Heav'n and Earth to ſhake.
For, &c.
That by his wiſdom did create
The painted Heav'ns ſo full of ſtate▪
For his, &c.
That did the ſolid Earth ordain
To riſe above the watry plain.
For his, &c.
That by his all-commanding might,
Did fill the new-made world with light.
For his, &c.
And caus'd the Golden-treſſed Sun,
All the day long his cours to run.
For his, &c.
The horned Moon to ſhine by night,
Amongſt her ſpangled ſiſters bright▪
For his, &c.
He with his thunder▪claſping hand,
mote the firſt▪born of Egypt Land▪
For his, &c.
And in deſpight of Pharao fell,
He brought from thence his Iſrael.
For, &c.
The ruddy waves he cleft in twain,
Of the Erythraean main.
For, &c.
The floods ſtood ſtill like Walls of Glaſs▪
While the Hebrew Bands did paſs.
For, &c.
But full ſoon they did devour
The Tawny King with all his power▪
For, &c.
His choſen people he did bleſs
In the waſtfull Wildernes.
For, &c.
In bloody battail he brought down
Kings of proweſs and renown.
For, &c.
He foild bold Seon and his hoſt,
That rul'd the Amorrean coaſt.
For, &c.
And large-lim'd Og he did ſubdue,
With all his over hardy crew▪
For, &c.
And to his ſervant Iſrael,
He gave their Land therin to dwell.
For, &c.
He hath with a piteous eye
Beheld us in our miſery.
For, &c.
And freed us from the ſlavery
Of the invading enimy.
For, &c.
All living creatures he doth feed.
And with full hand ſupplies their need▪
For, &c.
Let us therfore warble forth
His mighty Majeſty and worth.
For, &c.
That his manſion hath on high
Above the reach of mortall ey.
For his mercies ay endure,
Ever faithfull, ever ſure.
The Paſſion.
I.
ERe-while of Muſick, and Ethereal mirth,
Wherwith the ſtage of Ayr and Earth did ring▪
And joyous news of heav'nly Infants birth,
My muſe with Angels did divide to ſing;
But headlong joy is ever on the wing,
In Wintry ſolſtice like the ſhortn'd light
Soon ſwallow'd up in dark and long out-living nigh….
II.
For now to ſorrow muſt I tune my ſong,
And ſet my Harpe to notes of ſaddeſt wo,
Which on our deareſt Lord did ſeaſe er'e long,
Dangers, and ſnares, and wrongs, and worſe then ſo▪
Which he for us did freely undergo.
Moſt perfect Heroe, try'd in heavieſt plight
Of labours huge and hard, too hard for human wight▪
III.
He ſov'ran Prieſt ſtooping his regall head
That dropt with odorous oil down his fair eyes,
Poor fleſhly Tabernacle entered,
His ſtarry front low-rooft beneath the skies;
O what a Mask was there, what a diſguiſe!
Yet more; the ſtroke of death he muſt abide,
Then lies him meekly down faſt by his Brethrens ſide.
IV.
Theſe latter ſcenes confine my roving vers,
To this Horizon is my Phoebus bound,
His Godlike acts, and his temptations fierce,
And former ſufferings other where are found;
Loud o're the reſt Cremona's Trump doth ſound▪
Me ſofter airs befit, and ſofter ſtrings
Of Lute, or Viol ſtill, more apt for mournful things.
V.
Befriend me night beſt Patroneſs of grief,
Over the Pole thy thickeſt mantle throw,
And work my flatter'd fancy to belief,
That Heav'n and Earth are colour'd with my wo;
My ſorrows are too dark for day to know:
The leaves ſhould all be black wheron I write,
And letters where my tears have waſht a wanniſh white.
VI.
See ſee the Chariot, and thoſe ruſhing wheels,
That whirl d the Prophet up at Chebar flood,
My ſpirit ſom tranſporting Cherub feels,
To bear me where the Towers of Salem ſtood,
Once glorious Towers, now ſunk in guiltles blood;
There doth my ſoul in holy viſion ſit
In penſive trance, and anguiſh, and ecſtatick fit.
VII.
Mine eye hath found that ſad Sepulchral rock
That was the Casket of Heav'ns richeſt ſtore,
And here though grief my feeble hands up-lock,
Yet on the ſoftned Quarry would I ſcore
My plaining vers as lively as before;
For ſure ſo well inſtructed are my tears,
That they would fitly fall in order's Characters.
VIII.
Or ſhould I thence hurried on viewles wing▪
Take up a weeping on the Mountains wilde,
The gentle neighbourhood of grove and ſpring
Would ſoon unbooſom all thir Echoes milde,
And I (for grief is eaſily beguild)
Might think th'infection of my ſorrows loud,
Had got a race of mourners on ſom pregnant cloud.
This Subject the Author finding to be above the yeers he had, when he wrote it, and nothing ſatisfi'd with what was begun, left it unfiniſht.
On Time.
FLy envious Time, till thou run out thy race,
Call on the lazy leaden-ſtepping hours,
Whoſe ſpeed is but the heavy Plummets pace;
And glut thy ſelf with what thy womb devours▪
Which is no more then what is falſe and vain,
And meerly mortal droſs;
So little is our loſs,
So little is thy gain.
For when as each thing bad thou haſt entomb'd,
And laſt of all, thy greedy ſelf conſum'd,
Then long Eternity ſhall greet our bliſs
With an individual kiſs;
And Joy ſhall overtake us as a flood,
When every thing that is ſincerely good
And perfectly divine,
With Truth, and Peace, and Love ſhall ever ſhine
About the ſupreme Throne
Of him, t'whoſe happy-making ſight alone,
When once our heav'nly-guided ſoul ſhall clime,
Then all this Earthy groſnes quit,
Attir'd with Stars, we ſhall for ever ſit,
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time▪
Upon the Circumciſion.
YE flaming Powers, and winged Warriours bright,
That erſt with Muſick, and triumphant ſong
Firſt heard by happy watchful Shepherds ear,
So ſweetly ſung your Joy the Clouds along
Through the ſoft ſilence of the liſt'ning night;
Now mourn, and if ſad ſhare with us to bear
Your fiery eſſence can diſtill no tear,
Burn in your fighs, and borrow
Seas wept from our deep ſorrow,
He who with all Heav'ns heraldry whileare
Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us eaſe;
Alas, how ſoon our ſin
Sore doth begin
His Infancy to ſeaſe!
O more exceeding love or law more juſt?
Juſt law indeed, but more exceeding love!
For we by rightfull doom remediles
Were loſt in death, till he that dwelt above
High thron'd in ſecret bliſs, for us frail duſt
Emptied his glory, ev'n to nakednes;
And that great Cov'nant which we ſtill tranſgreſs
Intirely ſatisfi'd,
And the full wrath beſide
Of vengeful Juſtice bore for our exceſs,
And ſeals obedience firſt with wounding ſmart
This day, but O ere long
Huge pangs and ſtrong
Will pierce more neer his heart.
At a ſolemn Muſick.
BLeſt pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'ns joy,
Sphear-born harmonious Siſters, Voice, and Vers,
Wed your divine ſounds, and mixt power employ
Dead things with inbreath'd ſenſe able to pierce,
And to our high-rais'd phantaſie preſent,
That undiſturbed Song of pure content,
Ay ſung before the ſaphire-colour'd throne
To him that ſits theron
With Saintly ſhout, and ſolemn Jubily,
Where the bright Seraphim in burning row
Their loud up-lifted Angel trumpets blow,
And the Cherubick hoſt in thouſand quires
Touch their immortal Harps of golden wires,
With thoſe juſt Spirits that wear victorious Palms,
Hymns devout and holy Pſalms
Singing everlaſtingly;
That we on Earth with undiſcording voice
May rightly anſwer that melodious noiſe;
As once we did, till diſproportion'd ſin
Jarr'd againſt natures chime, and with harſh din
Broke the fair muſick that all creatures made
To their great Lord, whoſe love their motion ſway'd
In perfect Diapaſon, whilſt they ſtood
In firſt obedience, and their ſtate of good.
O may we ſoon again renew that Song,
And keep in tune with Heav'n▪ till God ere long
To his celeſtial conſort us unite,
To live with him, and ſing in endles morn of light.
An Epitaph on the Marchioneſs of Wincheſter.
THis rich Marble doth enterr
The honour'd Wife of Wincheſter,
A Vicounts daughter, an Earls heir,
Beſides what her vertues fair
Added to her noble birth,
More then ſhe could own from Earth.
Summers three times eight ſave one
She had told, alas too ſoon,
After ſo ſhort time of breath,
To houſe with darknes, and with death.
Yet had the number of her days
Bin as compleat as was her praiſe,
Nature and fate had had no ſtrife
In giving limit to her life.
Her high birth, and her graces ſweet,
Quickly found a lover meet;
The virgin quite for her requeſt
The God that ſits at marriage feaſt;
He at their invoking came
But with a ſcarce-wel lighted flame;
And in his Garland as he ſtood,
Ye might diſcern a Cipreſs bud.
Once had the early Matrons run
To greet her of a lovely ſon,
And now with ſecond hope ſhe goes,
And calls Lucina to her throws;
But whether by miſchance or blame
Atropos for Lucina came;
And with remorfles cruelty,
Spoil'd at once both fruit and tree:
The haples Babe before his birth
Had burial, yet not laid in earth,
And the languiſht Mothers Womb
Was not long a living Tomb.
So have I ſeen ſom tender ſlip
Sav'd with care from Winters nip,
The pride of her carnation train,
Pluck't up by ſom unheedy ſwain,
Who onelyonly thought to crop the flowr
New ſhot up from vernall ſhowr;
But the fair bloſſom hangs the head
Side-ways as on a dying bed,
And thoſe Pearls of dew ſhe wears,
Prove to be preſaging tears
Which the ſad morn had let fall
On her haſt'ning funerall.
Gentle Lady may thy grave
Peace and quiet ever have;
After this thy travail ſore
Sweet reſt ſeaſe thee evermore,
That to give the world encreaſe,
Shortned haſt thy own lives leaſe,
Here beſides the ſorrowing
That thy noble Houſe doth bring,
Here be tears of perfect moan
Weept for thee in Helicon,
And ſom Flowers, and ſom Bays,
For thy Hears to ſtrew the ways,
Sent thee from the banks of Came,
Devoted to thy vertuous name;
Whilſt thou bright Saint high ſit'ſt in glory▪
Next her much like to thee in ſtory,
That fair Syrian Shepherdeſs,
Who after yeers of barrenners,
The highly favour'd Joſeph bore
To him that ſerv'd for her before,
And at her next birth much like thee,
Through pangs fled to felicity,
Far within the booſom bright
Of blazing Majeſty and Light,
There with thee, new welcom Saint▪
Like fortunes may her ſoul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant ſheen,
No Marchioneſs, but now a Queen.
SONG
On May morning.
NOw the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger,
Comes dancing from the …aſt, and leads with her
The Flowry May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow Cowſlip, and the pale Primroſe.
Hail bounteous May that doſt inſpire
Mirth and youth, and warm deſire,
Woods and Groves, are of thy dreſſing,
Hill and Dale, doth boaſt thy bleſſing.
Thus we ſalute thee with our early Song,
And welcom thee, and wiſh thee long.
On Shakeſpear. 1630.
WHat needs my Shakeſpear for his honour'd Bones,
The labour of an age in piled Stones,
Or that his hallow'd reliques ſhould be hid
Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid?
Dear ſon of memory, great heir of Fame,
What need'ſt thou ſuch weak witnes of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and aſtoniſhment
Haſt built thy ſelf a live-long Monument.
For whilſt toth'ſhame of ſlow-endeavouring art,
Thy eaſie numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalu'd Book,
Thoſe Delphick lines with deep impreſſion took,
Then thou our fancy of it ſelf bereaving,
Doſt make us Marble with too much conceaving;
And ſo Sepulcher'd in ſuch pomp doſt lie,
That Kings for ſuch a Tomb would wiſh to die.
On the Univerſity Carrier who ſickn'd in the time of his vacancy, being forbid to go to London, by reaſon of the Plague.
HEre lies old Hobſon, Death hath broke his girt,
A here alas, hath laid him in the dirt,
Or els the ways being foul, twenty to one,
He's here ſtuck in a ſlough, and overthrown.
▪Twas ſuch a ſhifter, that if truth were known,
Death was half glad when he had got him down;
For he had any time this ten yeers full,
Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull.
And ſurely, Death could never have prevail'd,
Had not his weekly cours of carriage fail'd;
But lately finding him ſo long at home,
And thinking now his journeys end was come,
And that he had tane up his lateſt Inne,
In the kind office of a Chamberlin
Shew'd him his room where he muſt lodge that night,
Pull'd off his Boots, and took away the light:
If any ask for him, it ſhall be ſed,
Hobſon has ſupt, and's newly gon to bed▪
Another on the ſame.
HEre lieth one who did moſt truly prove,
That he could never die while he could move,
So hung his deſtiny never to rot
While he might ſtill jogg on, and keep his trot,
Made of ſphear-metal, never to decay
Untill his revolution was at ſtay.
Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime
'Gainſt old truth) motion number'd out his time;
And like an Engin mov'd with wheel and waight,
His principles being ceaſt, he ended ſtrait,
Re…t that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath▪
Nor were it contradiction to affirm
Too long vacation haſtned on his term.
Meerly to drive the time away he ſickn'd,
Fainted, and died, nor would with Ale be quickn'd;
Nay, quoth he, on his ſwooning bed outſtretch'd,
If I may not carry, ſure Ile ne're be fetch'd,
But vow though the croſs Doctors all ſtood hearers▪
For one Carrier put down to make ſix bearers.
Eaſe was his chief diſeaſe, and to judge right,
He did for heavines that his Cart went light,
His leaſure told him that his time was com▪
And lack of load, made his life burdenſom,
That even to his laſt breath (ther be that ſay't)
As he were preſt to death, he cry'd more waight▪
But had his doings laſted as they were,
He had bin an immortall Carrier.
Obedient to the Moon he ſpent his date
In cours reciprocal, and had his fate
Linkt to the mutual flowing of the Seas,
Yet (ſtrange to think) his wain was his increaſe
His Letters are deliver'd all and gon,
OnelyOnly remains this ſuperſcription.