Doomes-Day: The Twelve Houre - William Alexander

The height of joy the cleared soules attends;
The Earth and Sea suppos'd are new to be;
The new Ierusalem from heaven descends,
Where still to dwell God doth with men agree;
The heavenly blisse, all humane sense transcends,
Which Saints attaine when thus from trouble free;
The joyes of heaven for blessed soules prepar'd,
Are pointed at, but cannot be declar'd.
Th'eares have not heard, nor th'eyes have never seen
The joyes of heaven, more great then can be thought;
To touch my lippes, that stain'd so oft have been,
Lord, from thine Altar, let a coale be brought;
Make me cast off what ever is uncleane,
That sacred grounds with reverence may be sought:
Thy inner Temple let thy servant see,
Where of things holy, the most holy be.

What glorious change doth dazle thus mine eye?
In place of th'earth where miseries are rife,
The torturing racke that did mans patience try,
With wasting travels, and dividing strife,
Who (by these labours) did but dearely buy
Terrestriall things fit for a temporall life:
I see an earth that greater pleasure yeelds,
Then Gentiles dream'd in their Elysian fields.
Time (as for sport) now quickly deckes and spoiles,
This passive ground which alwaies worke requires,
To punish man (as sentenc'd first) with toiles,
The meanes by which his maint'nance he acquires,
Whil'st sometime barren, sometime fertile soiles
Give joy, or griefe, with agues of desires:
Still fighting with the same, till yeeld he must,
A fettred captive humbled in the dust.
We daily see the earth (doe what we can)
How it the cares of wretched worldlings scornes,
(Bloud-colour'd furrowes frowning upon man)
Her vapours poison, and she prickes with thornes;
But now farre from that state which first began,
It (which the Lord as his delight adornes
Is (alwaies faire) much chang'd from what before,
A Virgin now, not violable more.
Then Edens garden growne more glorious farre,
Her fruits she freely in abundance brings,
No more the lists where blustring stormes make warre,
With killing winters, and with quickning springs;
A constant course still kept, no kinde of jarre
Shall then disturbe the generall peace of things:
Milde Zephires gentle breath more sweetly smels,
Then Indian odours, or what most excels.

No threatning cloud, all charg'd with haile-stones lowres;
Then silke dy'd greene the grasse more pleasant growes,
When bath'd with liquid pearles, not blansh'd with showrs,
No raging floud her tender face o'reflowes,
Whose bosome all embroidered is with flowres,
Not natures worke, nor Arts that man bestowes:
The curious knots and plots most prais'd below,
To figure this, can no resemblance show.
There whites perfection, embleme of things pure,
The lightning Lilies, beauties colours reare,
And blushing Roses modestly allure,
As which of shamefastnesse the badge doe beare;
Of Violets the purple doth endure,
Though pale, they seem to hide their heads for feare:
As if extracted out of all the three,
The Gilly-flower a quint-essence may be.
These with all else that here most rare have beene,
In smell or shew, the sent or sight to feed,
Have gorgeous garments of eternall greene,
And eminently emulously breed,
With many sorts that we have never seene,
Which for excellencies these farre exceed:
They (mix'd in workes) mosaically grow,
And yet each part doth every kinde bestow.
Though here no hearb shall need for health, nor food,
Where neither hunger can, nor sicknesse be,
Yet there shall want no creatures that are good,
Since with Gods glory this doth best agree;
His wisedome by his workes is understood,
Whose daily wonders all the world may see:
That earth no doubt we shall most perfect view,
Since (this quite raz'd) he makes the same all new.

O! what excellency endeeres all things?
For store, not use, for pleasure, not for gaine,
Th'earth dainty fruits still in abundance brings,
Which never fade, nor doe fall downe in vaine,
And even as one is pluck'd, another springs;
No leafe is lost, no, nor no way doth staine:
The Orangers, not singular then be,
Where fruit and flourish garnish every tree.
In walkes distinguish'd, trees some grounds may grace,
With divers baits inviting smell and taste,
Then (as indented) differing sorts a space,
In groves grown thicker, would a shadow cast,
And them betwixt the playnes in every place,
Are dainty Gardens which doe alwaies last
In more perfection, then all these attain'd,
Which Art or Nature made, or fancy fayn'd.
Meandring Rivers smoothly smiling passe,
And whil'st they (lover-like) kisse courted lands,
Would emulate the emerauld-like grasse,
All pav'd with pearle, empall'd with golden sands;
To make a mirrour of their moving glasse,
For usuall creatures, Angels come in bands:
The noyse is Musicke, when their course ought chockes,
As mounts of Diamonds, of Rubies rockes.
All Countries purchase now with strangers spoiles,
Even what is daily us'd to cloath, or feed,
And that with many mercenary toiles
Though but superfluous, not the things we need,
But as each place had quintessenc'd all soiles,
It what can be desir'd, doth freely breed:
The honey there from every flower may flow,
And on each Reed taste-pleasing sugars grow.

The Mountaines that so long have hid their store,
Lest avarice their bowels might have torne,
May turne without, what was within before,
Free from deforming rockes, and pestring thorne;
Whil'st silver fin'd from the confining Ore,
And veynes of perfect gold, their breasts adorne,
All cloath'd with metalls thus, they shining bright,
And deck'd with jewels, may seeme flames of light.
O what brave prospect would these hils impart,
If this new earth were to perfection brought,
Not dress'd by Nature, nor by creeping Art,
But by the Lord miraculously wrought,
With rarities enrich'd in every part,
Above the reach of the most curious thought?
The ayre is all but smels of pretious things,
And with melodious sounds, sweet Musicke brings.
It may be all that Eden could afford,
Ere sinnes contagious seed it first did staine,
Shall be with encrease to this earth restor'd,
In more excellency then wit can fayne;
And, O, who knowes but it may please the Lord
To cast the same in other moulds againe,
And creatures make such qualities receive,
As we till glorifi'd, cannot conceive?
As they encreas'd, constrained to disperse,
When people parted farre in sundry bands,
The deeps then onely did afford commerce,
(By sparing feet, all travelling with hands,)
That distant states together might converse,
Firme ground for Ships, a liquid bridge 'twixt lands:
Thus her vast desert, meanes for traffique yeelds,
And with least labour, hath most fertile fields.

But now things to export, or to import,
There needs no Sea, facilitating gaine,
All may their bodies where they please transport,
Not fearing danger, nor not feeling paine;
Yet may some depth, though in another sort,
To decke the earth, an ornament remaine:
Or as a glasse where soules themselves may see,
Whil'st beauties wonders there reflected be.
By contemplation (farre from mortalls led)
I thinke I see a Sea, a moving ground,
(Not from the clouds by secret conducts fed)
In azure fields, as Emeraulds had been drown'd,
Or melted Saphirs on an Amber bed,
Which rockes of Pearle, and Corall banks doe bound:
It seems this heaven, or else like stuffe and forme,
Is layd below, all starres, and free from storme.
How weakely doth my Muse this taske pursue,
With strengthlesse lines such lofty things to sound?
I scarce can comprehend that which I view,
Much lesse can tell, what beauties shall abound,
When as the Lord doth this worne earth renue,
Heavens treasures then embellishing the ground:
My ravish'd judgement quite confounded rests,
Which on each side, variety invests.
But then what soule will daigne to looke so low,
As to take pleasure in so meane a sight,
When they of heaven the heavenly beauties know,
And shine aloft like starres, yea farre more bright,
When they that kingdome then securely owe,
By promise first, last by possessions right:
From which no doubt so great contentment springs,
That they esteeme not of inferiour things.

The stately building, admirably round,
Above the compasse of encroaching houres,
With strength and beauty that doth still abound,
To lodge the happie host of heavenly powers,
The worlds great maker curiously did found,
On fields of Pearle with diamantine Towers;
Which (though most pretious) do no wonder breed,
The forme so farre the matter doth exceed.
The sight-confining-crystall-covered skies,
That mirrour cleere through which in every part
The heaven (as jealous) lookes with many eyes,
To marke mens actions, and to weigh each heart,
That spheare of light whose stately course none tries,
To imitate, or æmulate by Art,
That which to us so gorgeous is in show,
The buildings botome is, the part most low.
The bounds of heaven, the forme, or matter here,
Where God enthron'd with majestie doth sit,
Who durst but aime by mortall types to cleere
(As fondly trusting to deluding wit
Might make his madnesse, nothing else appeere,
And should a crime more monstrous thus commit,
Then thence one (stealing fire) was fain'd to do,
And should for punishment farre passe him too.
Who can (though dayly seene) describe the sky,
By which (poore curtaine) better is enclos'd,
(With mustred beauties courting still the eye)
Though eminent to every age expos'd?
Of Sunne, Moone, Starres, who doth the substance try,
Or how their bodies are for light compos'd?
The very soules by which we reason thus,
Are for their essence strangers unto vs.

Then of heavens mysteries if we should judge,
The work would prove (our makers wrath to tempt)
Ridiculous folly, arrogancy huge,
Presumption still encount'ring with contempt;
And if that we (base wormes whom clay doth lodge)
By scaling Clouds, heavens stately Towers attempt;
To paint their glory, in the least degree,
The Sunne it selfe would scarce a shadow be.
The Lords chiefe house is built of living stone,
But certainely celestiall roomes excell,
Which Christ himselfe prepares for every one,
Where they at last eternally may dwell;
With Majestie there stands his stately throne;
The bounds about doe all with glory swell:
Let this content, no words such worth can eaven,
He who made all the world, made this his heaven.
What sacred vision calls us from the skie,
A mystery with reverence to attend?
From starry Towers the silver streamers flie,
Whil'st th'azure rounds their ports with pompe extend:
A glorious Towne with glistring walls I spie!
Which falls not downe, but softly doth descend,
And straight sweet sounds melodiouslie tell;
This is Gods Tent, he comes with men to dwell.
The gorgeous Citty (garnish'd like a bride)
Where Christ for spouse expected is to passe,
With walles of jasper compass'd on each side,
Hath streets all pav'd with gold, more bright then glasse;
Twelve pretious stones for walkes her waies divide,
Where still there is ingrav'd in lasting brasse,
Of happie twelve the celebrated names;
“An honour due defraying former shames.

Lifes water pure forth from the throne doth flow,
With mutuall joy where Saints and Angels meete;
On every side of it lifes tree doth grow,
Where streames of Nectar beautifie the streete,
With colours like the Sacramentall bow,
To looke on pleasant, and in tasting sweete;
Then from all feare her Citizens to free,
We still his people, He our God will be.
Of that brave City where the Saints doe dwell,
Which ravish'd Iohn by earthly types designes,
Who would the beauty, and perfection tell,
(As he then saw) had need of Angels lines;
But this is certaine, that it must excell,
Where glory still in the Meridian shines;
No shadow there can ever cloud the light,
Where every thing is of it selfe still bright.
Each stone amidst the street doth shine afarre,
And like to lightning, light about bestows;
As in the firmament a radiant starre,
Each just mans beauty now for brightnesse grows;
Then he whose presence darknesse quite must barre,
The life of light, the fountaine whence it flows;
Is (that great day which at a height still stayes)
The Sunne of glory, and the just his rayes.
There none shall need like mortals with complaints,
(Worlds common care) for want of roome to grudge,
But he in granting grace who never faints,
Doth them reward of whom he had beene judge;
And (clear'd from sinne) all justly then call'd Saints,
Doth daigne himselfe (as harbenger) to lodge,
Since gone before (where we shall him embrace)
Of purpose to prepare the promis'd place.

The swelling earth where hils such heights do reare,
To be our jayle, which heaven a space decrees,
Man, cattell, corne, and what these need doth beare,
Whose whole none yet (though still in travell) sees;
It compass'd is by a farre distant spheare,
And that by others, growing by degrees;
Of which in bounds the highest must abound,
A large circumference, an endlesse round.
Heavens store of roomes by Christ is clearly shown,
Yet would not this extended be so farre,
To make each place peculiarly ones owne,
Where one may be, and thence may others barre;
This smels too much of what we here have known,
Which most of minds the harmony doth marre;
These words of mine, and thine, chiefe grounds of strife,
The fountains are of all the toils of life.
Soules glorifi'd may where they please repaire,
Then made secure, that nought can them annoy,
For, no restraint their freedome doth impaire,
Who as his host the Lord of hosts convoy;
As fishes in the Seas, fowls in the ayre,
None claimes a share, but all do all enjoy:
With partiall eyes not making choice of parts,
Save onely God, no object draws their hearts.
Though here strange longings bred by strong desires,
With restlesse passions racke the doubtfull minde,
That it (still flaming with some fancies fires)
Is by free choice affectionately pin'd;
Now fully pleas'd with all that it requires,
Each soule in heaven perfections height doth finde:
Where neither want, nor wearinesse molests,
All had ere wish'd, no expectation rests.

Calm'd are the tumbling waves of stormy cares,
(Whil'st frustrated of what they do attend)
Which tosse poore soules on rocks of black despaires,
That shunning shallow shelfes, with straits contend;
No thirst of knowledge flattering ease impaires,
A groundlesse deep, a circle without end:
Since they of good things have continuall store,
And (knowing all) do need to learne no more.
I wonder much how any man can doubt,
That this our knowledge should continue still,
As if we were (all memory worne out)
Depriv'd of power, or else deprav'd in will;
Shall we not know who compasse us about?
No beings are quite raz'd save onely ill;
The very earth that stain'd so oft hath beene,
Is not abolish'd, but made new, and cleane.
No doubt these spirituall parts must still remaine,
Not rais'd but rectifi'd, in value more,
Else faith (too credulous) doth beleeve in vaine,
That all shall rise in substance as before;
If these dissolve, and that we get againe,
New gifts for them from the eternalls store;
Then should the meanes by which at last we move,
(No resurrection) a creation prove.
These faculties that of themselves were good,
In soules from heaven as their chiefe wealth infus'd,
Had man (as first created) constant stood,
Were excellent when innocently us'd,
But since that sinne did sway vaine mortals brood,
To serve their lusts, these treasures are abus'd;
Yet when renu'd, and to perfection brought,
By them then earst farre more may now be wrought.

Mans Father first ere blinded by his fall,
(Free from Informers) whil'st he liv'd alone,
Knew Evah clearly whom he straight did call
Flesh of my flesh, and of my bone the bone;
And Peter knew (though to fraile dust still thrall)
Two that were buried many ages gone;
Let Tabernacles, Lord, here builded be
For Moses, for Elias, and for thee.
This pretious jewell (by wits toils refin'd)
Which joynes with judgement to determine strife,
The end of travell, treasure of the minde,
The spoils of Paradise, the price of life,
Whose light to get (as ignorant) when blinde,
Our simple Father, and his curious wife
Did suffer death, yet grudg'd not at their crosse,
As if that knowledge recompenc'd their losse.
This heavenly wealth one with much toyle attaines,
By reading, acting, and observing still,
And then (though slowly wax'd) it quickly waines,
Which long ere perfect doth begin to spill;
Rage first doth burne, last, rheumes do drowne the brains,
Youth knowledge scornes, it doting age doth kill:
None can engrosse, nor yet exhaust this store,
But all have by degrees, some lesse, some more.
Loe, that which made so slow a progresse here,
By childhood, folly, or by errour staid,
Now (wholly perfect) doth at first appeare,
Not in fraile lodgings by grosse organs sway'd;
The happie souls from all corruption cleare,
Do shine like starres, with righteousnesse array'd;
And bodies glorifi'd do enter in,
Not bow'd by sicknesse, nor abus'd by sinne.

If on the face one now may reade the minde,
In characters which griefe, or joy imparts,
The same reflected (then) we clearly finde,
By sympathie the secrets of all hearts;
If Moses face upon the mountaine shin'd,
Much more when glorifi'd these other parts,
Then there must prove, where nothing can be foule,
All eye the body, and the eye all soule.
Then pleasures height is onely in the Lord,
Who ill extirpates, what is good extends;
Yet how could this but just delight afford?
(Though publick zeale presse downe all private ends)
To see at last with like contentment stor'd,
Them whom we lov'd, wife, children, servants, friends:
Communicated joyes (as sowen) do grow,
Whil'st increase comes by that which we bestow.
All must rejoyce to see the godlys good,
Though for the wicked no man shall be griev'd;
At least this is (if rightly understood)
A pleasant errour, and may be beleev'd;
When seeing them with whom long toss'd we stood,
Till by the Lord (who heard our cryes) reliev'd
Shall we not joyne in him with mutuall joy,
Whil'st it then comforts, which did earst annoy?
A senselesse pourtrait curious to acquire,
We seek the shadow of a vanish'd show,
If thought like them (rapt with celestiall fire)
Whose deeds, or words, were singular below;
Yea, even of Ethnicks, if they did aspire,
By morall vertues fames applause to owe:
And every monument do much esteeme,
Which did from death such memories redeeme.

Who would not purchase, though with charge, and strife
A lively peece that would resemble right,
Gods earth-begotten sonne, his selfe-borne wife,
When both were happie, and at beauties height?
Farre more of his owne Sonne, the Lord of life,
Man deifi'd, God mortall made, whose sight
The Fathers wish'd, ere forc'd from hence to flie,
And which made Simeon straight grow glad to dye.
Who then can thinke with what exceeding joy,
We shall our Saviours selfe, our Soveraigne see,
Who suffered death, that he might death destroy,
And us poore captives from that Tyrant free?
Whil'st all these Saints in person him convoy,
Whose pictures wish'd, would now so pretious be:
O! what a holy host together throngs,
To magnifie the Lord with heavenly songs?
We at that time not onely shall behold,
Milde Moses there, just Samuel, and the best
That for the cause of God have beene so bold,
Whil'st sacred fury breath'd out of their breast,
But even with them that are so much extold,
We shall be partners of eternall rest,
And spying with what zeale they act their parts,
The greater ardour may enflame our hearts.
As earst on th'earth he did divinely use,
That man thrice sacred, Prophet, Poet, King,
Whil'st heavenly furie doth high thoughts infuse,
Then to his Harp an holy Hymne may sing,
Thrice happie thou that thus imploy'dst thy Muse,
Whose pen, it seemes, was from an Angels wing,
Since thy harmonious sounds still mount, and move
With melodie to charme the spheares above.

This is the way to have eternall lines,
That all the hosts of heaven may them approve,
Whose loftie flight no fatall date confines,
Whil'st fraughted onely with a sprituall love,
This is a subject which all else declines,
And in request for Quiristers above,
Which must these Authors all immortall make,
That for Gods glory thus a course do take.
The Prophets, and the Patriarchs rejoyce,
To see the things fulfill'd which they fore-told,
And all that were the Lords peculiar choice,
To whom he did his mysteries unfold,
There many millions multiply a voice,
And above measure do a measure hold;
These whom the Lambe of God as his doth seale,
Are kindled all with love, and burne with zeale.
The noble Martyrs (Champions of the faith)
Who straight when challeng'd, scorn'd both force, and art,
(Encount'ring bravely with a Tyrants wrath)
Whose chearfull countenance smilingly did smart;
Then as inviting, not avoyding death,
(Their drosse first burn'd) well purifi'd did part;
Not out of haste to have their torments done,
But that in heaven they so might settle soone.
They now do reape the fruits of former toils,
All crown'd with starres, like Phœbus in the face,
In white, perchance adorn'd with Princes spoyls,
Whom they (whil'st raging) did o'recome in peace;
Of all their bodies drawn from sundry soils,
The wounds for pompe do give the greatest grace,
Which shine, as Rubies set in Crystall rings,
And make them to be like the King of Kings.

Triumphing victors entring heaven with state,
A golden Trumpet may their praise proclaime,
And some great Angell all their deeds dilate,
Which glory doth reward, not envi'd fame;
Then when enstall'd, where eminent in seat,
The voice of thousands celebrates their name:
With eager eares attending their discourse,
Though knowing all, from them to heare their course.
If there admitted, as whil'st here we live,
With mutuall pleasure to exchange our mindes,
Oh what contentment would that conference give,
For sweet variety of sundrie kindes!
Nor need we feare that some would fraud contrive:
Base hate, nor flattery, there no object findes.
And if they would (as none can do in ought)
The breast transparent would bewray each thought.
There one from Adam, Edens state might heare,
How large it was, and in what region plac't,
What pleasures did most singular appeare,
What hearbs, what fruits, or flowers the garden grac'd;
How Evah first was knowne, why straight held deare,
And if he there that new-borne Bride imbrac'd:
What these two trees were like in forme, or hew,
Where life, and knowledge, vegetable grew.
Who would not gladly know (before he err'd)
His first designes, what thoughts he entertain'd,
Each circumstance how he with God conferr'd,
How will (by him not rein'd) above him raign'd,
If there to stay, or where to be preferr'd,
Then in what forme the Serpent Satan fain'd;
What taste the Apples had, what change, both finde,
By sight, and knowledge, when grown weake, and blinde.

He tels how short a time their blisse did last,
And seem'd thereafter but a vanish'd dreame;
How Angels them from Paradise did cast,
Where first their souls were seiz'd by feare, and shame;
Then through what lands these banish'd pilgrims past,
And (forc'd to labour) what rude tools they frame:
What race they had, what progresse mankinde made,
And all their crosses till that both were dead.
When Adam ends, then Noah calls to minde
The History of all before the Flood,
And how the Arke could hold of every kinde,
One of each sexe, to propagate their brood,
How it was well contriv'd, for wave, and winde,
To void their excrements, and keep their food:
And whil'st the Seas did wash the earth from sinne,
How that small remnant spent their time within.
He can report the worlds new growth againe,
Which at the first no living penne renownes;
How every person did a house attaine,
The house a village, villages grew townes;
Then Provinces all peopled did remaine,
And straight Ambition mounted up to Crownes;
That in his time (though all was once his owne)
The Floud was quite forgot, and he not knowne.
We there may learne how that the Lord of old,
By dreames and visions did declare his will;
How all who crav'd, had straight his Counsell told,
By Vrim, Thummim, and by Ephod still;
And well they might to prosecute be bold,
What Prophets first secur'd by sacred skill,
Whom then (though great) the world with scorne did view,
For till first dead, men never get their due.

This by Helias there may be resolv'd,
How he and Enoch were from hence estrang'd;
If wing'd with flames, or in some cloud involv'd,
(No usuall guests) along'st the ayre they rang'd;
If they their bodies kept, or were dissolv'd,
Or in what forme to scape, corruption chang'd:
Christs Ushers thus, their passage serves to prove,
How we with glory once may mount above.
Who try'd each state, both best, and worst, a space,
The spite of Satan, mercies of the Lord,
In body wounded, spoil'd of goods, and race,
By heaven abandon'd, by the world abhorr'd,
By wife, and friends accus'd, as falne from grace,
Yet what was lost had (multipli'd) restor'd:
With many other doubts he this can cleare,
How he (a Gentile) then to God was deare.
If one would know the deeps of Naturall things,
How farre that wisedome could her power extend;
What usuall issue every cause forth brings,
The meanes most apt to compasse any end;
The wisest then of men, or yet of Kings,
Whose spatious judgement all could comprehend,
Great Solomon such mysteries can teach,
As all Philosophers could never reach.
Of these ten Tribes that were the Gentiles prey,
We then may learne the course how good, or ill,
If they with them incorporated stay,
Or if that there the Lord their race did kill,
Or else from thence did leade them all away,
By Seas, and deserts, working wonders still:
As yet reserv'd their ancient lands to gaine,
If he by them would show his power againe.

As from the Ancients that best understood,
We there may learne the grounds whence knowledge springs,
So they may know from us (a greater good)
What their beginnings to perfection brings;
Who (babe-like first) were nurs'd with tender food,
By Types, and figures, masking sprituall things,
Whil'st temporall blessings entertain'd their faith,
Who scarcely knew true grace, were fear'd for wrath.
The ancient Fathers of her infant state,
For constancy by persecution crown'd,
The Churches progresse chearfully relate,
In spite of Tyrants which no power could bound;
Which wax'd in trouble, bath'd by bloud, grew great,
Till all the world behov'd to heare her sound;
And where on earth long militant before,
She now triumphs in heaven for evermore.
The greatest comfort that on earth we finde,
Is to converse with them whose gifts we love,
So variously to recreate the minde,
And that this meanes our judgment may improve,
Loe here are all by sacred pennes design'd,
Whose parts not onely men, but God did move:
Some of each science can all doubts resolve,
Which wits in errours maze did oft involve.
But what great folly to imagine this?
Since here each man can every thing discerne,
When all perfection full accomplish'd is,
And nothing rests more requisite to learne;
The Lord such qualities, as onely his,
Doth freely give to them whom they concerne:
None needs to borrow, as penurious now,
The Lord to all doth liberally allow.

He earst would have the Priests of each degree,
That at his Altar were to serve approv'd,
From all deformities by Nature free,
With bodies sound, as fit to be belov'd;
Perchance because all else by custome be,
(As obvious to scorne) too quickly mov'd;
Where his should have what others would allure,
A Count'nance calme, affections that are pure.
And shall not these appointed to have place,
(Triumphing still) in the eternall towne,
The new Ierusalem, the seate of grace,
Whom Christ with glory doth as conq'rours crowne,
Shall they not have true beauty in the face,
Which never blush shall burne, nor teare shall drowne?
There every member perfect made at length,
Shall have proportion, comelinesse and strength.
These eyes that here were lock'd up from the light,
And scarce had beene acquainted with the day,
Then (lightning glory) shall appeare more bright
Nor is the Mornings torch, which rayes array;
They that were deafe shall heare each accent right;
Some who were dumbe, shall then Gods praise display:
Who all the bodie doth to strength restore,
That with defects had tainted beene before.
They whom sterne death when infants did surprise,
And even ere borne abortives did pursue,
What such might be though none can now surmise,
Till demonstration prove conjectures true,
Shall at the last in the same stature rise,
The which to them potentially was due:
(Their litle dust then all extended soone,)
A moment doth what yeares should earst have done.

Exhausted age (Times prey) that hath runne post,
Whose eyes as if asham'd (when fail'd) sinke in,
Which onely serves of what hath beene to boast,
With shaking joynts, and with a withered skin,
Shall then revive, recovering what was lost;
All is restor'd that forfeited for sinne;
And Phenix-like new beauties all display,
“They must be perfect that in heaven can stay.
Babes from the Cradle carried to the ground,
Who did not live to get, nor give offence;
The ag'd by weakenesse that to bed were bound,
Of lifes three kinds scarce keeping that of sense;
Both rysing now may of these yeares be found,
Which Christ might count when as he parted hence:
Or else they shall all in that state be seene,
For health and beauty, which their best hath beene.
Our bodies shall not then as now grow grosse,
(Exulting humors tending to excesse)
Nor can extenuate, since free from crosse,
Which might distemper, alter, or make lesse;
They have no excrements, corruptions drosse,
Which doth our vilenesse palpablie expresse:
For in that Citty nothing shall be seene,
That either is infirme, or yet uncleane.
What wonder must the shining substance move,
Of sprituall bodies, when divinely borne?
Iudge by some parts what all the rest may prove,
This onely uselesse fleece from Creatures shorne,
(More bright then are Berinthia's haires above)
As beames the Sunne shall every head adorne;
Then pretious stones for ornament most meete,
More glorious are the nailes of hands and feete.

The face, heavens frontispice, the braines chiefe spheares,
Where intellectuall powers their course doe sway;
The eyes are starres, externall orbes the eares,
Lips, mornings blushing flames, cheeks, lightning day;
Legs, not their burden, them their burden beares,
The Armes, like Angels wings, through th'ayre doe stray,
Man skie-like bright, but still from tempest free,
(Earst little world) a little heaven may be.
As Adam once (whil'st naked) free from sinne,
Was not asham'd to walke before the Lord,
So shall the Saints (when glory doth begin)
Be to the same integrity restor'd;
No barenesse, robes, but brightnesse deckes the skinne,
Which no way else could be so much decor'd:
For, nakednesse when shining every where,
Is purenesse, and not impudency there.
The rayments held most rich for silke or gold,
Would but deforme, and no way could adorne,
Nor shall we need a guard against the cold,
Of things too oft superfluously borne;
As simple, sluggish, poore, none can unfold
What scandall can procure, contempt, or scorne:
No weakenesse is that any covering needs,
But all are shown, both bodies, thoughts, and deeds.
The bodies beauties that are thus expos'd,
Though both the sexes haunt together must,
(Nought can take fire, where fire is not enclos'd)
Shall neither snare, nor tempt the minde with lust;
Since generations period is impos'd,
We leave such thoughts when rising with the dust:
All carnall fancies quite extinguish'd rest,
And sprituall love doth ravish every brest.

As naked Angels innocently live,
With pure affections, quite estrang'd from ill,
And covet nothing, but doe onely give
To God attendance, and obey his will;
So shall we then with mutuall ardour strive,
(All concupiscence past) whom zeale doth fill
To love the Lord, and still his praise to sing,
Not capable of any other thing.
Though beauty thus a blessing doth remain,
And (made immortall) not by time surpris'd,
Yet this even here is but the least we gaine,
A quality, no vertue, meanely priz'd,
We shall more strength and nimblenesse attaine,
Then ever hath been found, or yet devis'd,
Not vex'd to conquer, from invasion free,
We cannot wish but that which straight shall be.
The greatest cause of wearinesse below,
By building Babels of confounding doubt,
(To search out truth still making us too slow)
Is this grosse burden that we beare about;
So that whil'st bent what is remote to know,
From this strict jayle, still strugling to be out:
What labour hath the interrupted minde,
Though sleep arrest, which scarce can be confin'd?
But when the Lord doth these defects supply,
By which the bodies pow'rs are thus impair'd,
As Planets keep their course above the sky,
They move, as bright and swift, and when compar'd,
To Angels every where like them they flye,
By secret vertue, spritually prepar'd:
No weakenesse then the bodies can controule,
And they in motion second may the soule.

Infirmities abandon'd all with sinnes,
The body as it would past faults defray,
To serve the soule, obsequiously beginnes,
Which us most gorgeously doth then array,
To Fowles as feathers, to the Fishes finnes,
Affording meanes to further still their way:
The bodies then (as soules direct) doe move,
And have no stop below, nor yet above.
No painefull sicknesse, nor consuming sore,
Which now with new alarmes us oft invest,
Shall vexe the soule with anguish any more,
As charging this fraile fort to yeeld her guest,
Nor shall she then, with passions (as before)
Of her deare partner interrupt the rest;
With mutuall pleasures multipli'd in force,
This second marriage nothing can divorce.
Through heaven and earth (though travelling o're all)
In these two volumes, Gods great workes to see,
No danger is that can their course appall,
Nor can they faint who still in triumph be,
And may themselves in stately seats enstall,
As Kings, or Priests, or greater in degree:
Whil'st they (all light) see all about them light,
Immortall Minions in their makers sight.
O! happy soules, who fil'd with heavenly things,
There for your mates continually shall have
The holy Prophets, Patriarchs, and Kings,
Apostles, Martyrs, all whom Christ did save;
This to my minde so great contentment brings,
Words cannot utter what my thoughts conceive:
But what more good can be surmiz'd then this?
The Lord their King, and heaven their kingdome is.

Nor were it much such happinesse to finde,
But quickly might make all our pleasures vaine,
If to decay at any time design'd,
We possibly were capable of paine,
The feare of that would still torment the minde,
Which true contentment thus could not attaine:
“For the more pretious that a treasure proves,
“The greater care the jealous owner moves.
All that could perish, to confusion past,
Extinguish'd time no period can pretend,
No expectation now accounts shall cast,
Whose progresse doth on Natures course depend:
All then expir'd, or perfected, at last,
We have no ends, nor nothing then can end:
But all things there from bounds and measure free,
Eternall are, and infinite must be.
We neither then can doe, nor suffer ill,
Nor need wee feare (as earst before) to fall.
The man who first had Paradise at will,
Made all who followed by his forfeit thrall;
The man who first tooke heaven (there raigning still)
Our great Redeemer hath secur'd us all:
So that obeying what he doth command,
Though Angels fell, wee shall be sure to stand.
The tyrants here that most disturbe our rest,
Are viprous passions, Parricides unkinde,
Though breeding them, who burst out through the breast,
A wretched Parent by her off-spring pin'd,
Whil'st sometime longings sweetly doe molest,
And sometime feares doe shrewdly vexe the minde,
Which alwaies like a Sea some storme must tosse,
Whil'st wishing what we want, or fear'd for losse.

But now a never interrupted blisse,
With constant joy doth full contentment give,
While as the minde not bended, nor remisse,
Can neither wish, nor feare, nor doubt, nor strive,
It having all, what had can never misse,
And (satisfi'd) with confidence doth live:
For (still in peace) we nought save God can love,
And him we have eternally above.
Whil'st thus made free from all that can annoy,
To thinke what pleasures soules shall then attaine,
Though all the world their wits in one employ,
Their course would prove ridiculously vaine,
That which was sow'd in teares, is reap'd with joy,
Who here seem'd base, shall then with glory raigne:
This, ravish'd Paul, could by no meanes expresse,
Who got a glance of what we shall possesse.
Yet shall not all be in like manner grac'd,
But may for glory differ in degree,
Some, shining brighter, or else higher plac'd,
Then all the rest more eminent may be,
And may by Christ more kindely be embrac'd,
Whose love (not merited) must needs rest free.
By Iohns example, this on earth was prov'd,
Who on his bosome slept as best belov'd.
The Lord even here doth in this course delight,
All sorts distinguish'd both in Church and State,
The Angels that, above, their charge acquite,
As is their ranke and turne, in order wait:
The Elders (plac'd in chayres) were cloath'd in white,
The holy Towne, by Tribes, names every gate:
And these are said of all to shine most bright,
Who by their meanes brought others to the light.

Of all that are in heavens great booke enrol'd,
The meanest man, though many goe before,
More pleas'd then wretches can be made by gold,
Shall envy none; nor can he covet more:
Some vessels as the big abound in store,
When having all that they are fit to hold,
And every soule that once the heavens receive,
Hath as much pleasure as it can conceive.
Here with their gifts, none fully pleas'd doth prove,
But seeke that Nature may be help'd by Art,
Yet, with themselves all are so much in love,
That though in others they may praise some part,
I know not what selfe-flatt'ring thoughts doe move,
There is not one that would exchange his heart:
“Our owne intentions still we perfect finde;
“Their fortunes many, none would change their minde.
Then, this farre rather may beliefe procure,
That those in heaven (how ever in degree,
Free from defects) still joyfull, and secure,
Can nothing wish, enjoying all they see,
And so for ever certaine to endure,
Then what they are, no other way would be:
They true contentment absolutely gaine,
Which wanting here, is cause of all our paine.
This vaste triangle, this most huge small thing,
Lifes quaking center, still first quicke, last kill'd,
Which all the world within it selfe can bring,
Yet like an empty gulfe cannot be fil'd,
From whence deep flouds of raging thoughts do spring,
By which the peace of mans short space is spill'd:
The ground of courage, all the bodies strength,
It still is pin'd, till spent by paine at length.

Or else this sparke, though under cloud; yet cleare,
(As rayes the Sunne) which doth the deity show,
And to the same still striving to draw neare,
From whence we are, would gladly make us know,
In heaven a native, and a stranger here,
As in antipathie with things below,
Till once arriv'd, where it doth alwaies tend;
“Cares lingring progresse cannot have an end.
But when the Lord, his (farre from what before,
Whil'st they on th'earth (as worms) were earst despis'd)
From forfeiture entirely shall restore,
Amongst the blessed bands to be compris'd,
Then they themselves could wish, they shall have more,
Or yet then could by mankinde be devis'd:
Imaginations reach this farre exceeds,
And with contentment an amazement breeds.
There pleasures height no words can serve to tell,
Since for their measure infinitely great,
Whose qualities (as quint-essenc'd) excell,
For time, eternall, which no bounds can date,
The place is heaven, where they with God doe dwell,
And are advanc'd to a most glorious state:
Like man and Angels earst, to sinne not thrall,
And certifi'd that they shall never fall.
These mysteries no mortals wit can try,
Nor could corruption with their light comport;
Which, though like Paul admitted them to spy,
None could conceive, farre lesse could them report:
The Ancients all were straight afraid to dye,
When having seene the Lord in any sort:
And of such things who capable would prove,
Must first be glorified, as guests above.

This is the joy that every soule doth fill,
That they the Lord continually shall see,
With humble reverence waiting on his will,
To minister, as marshal'd in degree;
And, there contemplating his glory still,
All zeale and love, as cloath'd with flames, shall be:
And him who did them thus so highly raise,
Celestiall Quiristers, not pray, but praise.
Where we were earst a prey to cold and heat,
Mechanickly engag'd to abject toyles,
Whose bread behov'd to have a sawce of sweat,
Who for apparell rob'd each creatures spoyles,
Whil'st compassing the Lambs majesticke feat,
That every breast with sacred ardour boyles:
As needlesse then this week for worke removes,
And all for God an endlesse Sabbath proves.
We shall Gods people be, and he our Lord,
Who comes with us continually to stay,
(Death, griefe, nor paine, no more) with goodnesse stor'd,
He from our eyes shall wipe all teares away,
And of life's water freely shall afford
To them who thirst, that they no more decay:
Whom (all accomplish'd) we may justly call
The first, the last, the three, the one, the all.
Thou that didst guide me through such divers grounds,
Imparting strength to reach my wished port,
Here make me rest amid'st this heavenly bounds,
With Saints and Angels freely to resort,
That (these my notes accorded with their sounds)
I by experience clearely may report
The state of heaven, to magnifie thy name,
And there thy praise eternally proclame.


William Alexander

Doomes-Day: The Third Houre - William Alexander

Whilst Angels him convoy, and Saints attend,
(The heavens as smoake all fled before his face)
Christ through the Clouds with Glory doth descend,
With Majestie, and terrour, Power and grace;
What flye, walke, grow, swimme, all what may end, doe end.
Earth, Aire, and Sea, all purg'd in little space:
Strange preparations that great Court preceede,
Where all must meete whom any age did breede.
Immortall Monarch ruler of the rounds,
Embalme my bosome with a secret grace,
Whil'st lifted up above the vulgar bounds,
A path not pav'd my spirit aspires to trace,
That I with brazen breath may roare forth sounds,
To shake the Heart, fixe palenesse in the face:
Lord, make my swelling voice, (a mighty winde)
Lift up the low, beate downe the loftie minde.

What dreadfull sound doth thunder in myne eares?
What pompous splendor doth transport myne eyes?
I wot not what above my selfe me beares,
He comes, he comes who all hearts secrets tryes.
Shout, shout for joy who long have rayn'de downe teares.
Houle, houle for griefe you who vaine Ioyes most prise:
Now shall be built, and on eternall grounds,
The height of horrour, pleasure passing bounds.
Now (noe more firme) the firmament doth flie,
As leapes the Deere fled from the hunters face;
Loe, like a drunkard reeles the Cristall skie;
As garments old degraded from their grace,
All folded up heavens blew pavilion spie,
Which with a noyse doth vanish from the place;
The Lanterne burnt, Light utters utter worth,
Drawne are the hangings, Majestie comes forth.
Who can abide the Glory of that sight,
Which kills the living, and the dead doth rayse,
With squadrons compass'de, Angels flaming bright,
Whom thousands serve, Ten thousand thousands praise?
My soul entranc'd is ravish'd with that light,
Which in a moment shall the world amaze;
That of our sprite which doth the powers condense,
Of muddy mortalls farre transcends the sense.
A fyre before him no resistance findes,
Fierce sounds of horrour thunder in each eare,
The noyse of Armies, tempests and whirlewindes,
A weight of wrath, more then ten worlds can beare;
Thinke what a terrour stings distracted mindes,
When mountaines melt, and valleys burst for feare;
What? what must this in guilty mortalls breede,
While all this All doth tremble like a Reede?
The God of battels battell doth intend,
To daunt the nations, and to fetter kings;
He with all flesh in judgement to contend,
At mid-night comes, as on the morning wings;
O! Tymes last period expectations end,
Which due rewards for what hath past then brings;
The Lords great day, a day of wrath, and paine,
Whose night of darkenesse never cleares againe.
That element still cleare in spight of nights,
Which (as most subtile,) mounted up above,
To kindle there perchance those glorious lights,
Which dy'd by it, as deck'd by beauty, move;
Or else of curious thoughts too ventrous flights,
(As which may not be touch'd) a bounds to prove,
That they presume not higher things to see,
Then are the elements of which they be.
Marke how th'Eolian bands loos'd from the bounds,
Where them in fetters their commander keeps,
(As if the angry sprite of all the rounds,)
Like tyrants rage, till heaven to quench them weeps,
Whose rumbling fury, whil'st it all confounds,
Doth cleave the clouds, and part the deepest deeps,
By noyse above, and violence below,
Th'earth quakes and thunder both at once to show.

Even so fire which was made (nought to annoy)
To liquid limits clos'd with clouds retire,
Lest what it fosters, it might else destroy,
O! when enlarg'd! and kindled by Gods ire,
It him at mid-night doth as Torch convoy,
All, all will seeme a Piramide of fire:
To God what is this universall frame?
Now but a mote, at last a little flame?
The Axel-trees on which heavens round doth move,
Shrunke from their burden, both fall broken down;
Those which to Pilots point out from above,
Their wayes through waves to riches or renowne,
And so (though fix'd) the strayers helpers prove,
Nights stately lampes borne in an azure crowne:
Those guiding starres, may (as not needfull) fall,
When worldlings wandrings are accomplish'd all.
The vagabonds above, lascivious lights,
Which from fond mindes that did their course admire,
By strange effects observ'd from severall heights,
(As deities) Idols altars did acquire,
Thrown from their spheres, expos'd to mortals sights,
(As abject ashes, excrements of fire.)
They (whil'st thus ruin'd) farre from what before,
Shall damne the nations which did them adore.
With lodgings twelve design'd by severall signes,
Now fals that building more then cristall cleare,
Which dayes bright eye (though circling all) confines,
Still tempring times, and seasoning the yeare;
All temporall light (no more to rise) declines,
That glory may eternally appeare:
All then made infinite, no bounds attend,
Times and halfe times quite past, Time takes an end.
As slimy vapours whil'st like starres they fall,
Shot from their place, do hurle alongst the skie,
Then Pleiades, Arcturus, Orion, all
The glistering troupes (lights languishing) doe dye;
Like other creatures to confusion thrall,
They from the flames (as sparkes from fire) doe flye;
The heavens at last griev'd for their falling spheares,
(All else dry'd up) weep down their stars for teares
As leaves from trees, the stars from heaven doe shake,
Darke clouds of smoake, exhausting those of raine,
The Moone all turnes to bloud, the Sunne growes blacke,
Which (whil'st prodigious formes they doe retaine)
Of vengeance badges, signes of ruine make,
And not ecclips'd by usuall meanes remaine:
Those common lights obscur'd, the just shine bright,
The wicked enter in eternall night.
Whil'st staggering reels this universall frame,
The Lord doth tread on clouds, enstall'd in state,
His Scepter iron, his Throne a fiery flame,
To bruise the mighty, and to fine the great;
Who of his glory can the greatnesse dreame,
That once was valued at a little rate?
He by his word did first make all of nought,
And by his word shall judge all of each thought.

When God his people did together draw,
On Sions Mount to register his will,
He (that they might attend with reverent aw)
Came clad with clouds (sterne Trumpets sounding shrill)
And threatned death (whil'st thundring forth his law)
To all that durst approach the trembling hill:
What compassed with death, he thus did give,
Ah, who can keep, or violate, and live?
Since this confounding forme did mindes to tame,
(That of their yoke all might the burden know)
Those dreadfull statutes terribly proclaime;
All flesh for feare shall fade away below,
How they were kept when God a count doth claime,
A time of terrour more then words can show.
He gave in mercy, shall exact with ire,
The mountaine smoak'd, the world shall burn on fire.
In spight of Natures powers which then expire,
Through liquid limits breaking from above,
Loe, downwards tends the Tempest of this fire;
The airie Region doth a fornace prove,
To boile her guests (as vessell of Gods ire)
Which tortur'd there can no where else remove:
Flames which should still for their confusion rage,
Thus kindled first perchance nought can asswage.
The growing creatures which do mount so high,
And as their earthly bounds they did disdaine,
Would (whil'st their tops encroach upon the skie)
Base men upbraid, who not their strength do straine
With heavenly helps still higher up to flie,
And spurne at th'earth where rooted they remaine;
Those leavie bands while as they fanne the ayre,
As fittest baits for fire first kindle there.
Who can imagine this and yet not mourne?
What battell must succeed this huge alarme?
Of Lebanon the stately Cedars burne,
The Pines of Idus fall without an arme;
The fertile Forrests all to flames do turne,
And waste the world which they were wont to warme.
To plague proud sinners every thing accords,
What comfort once, confusion now affords.
The smoaking mountains melt like wax away,
Else sink for feare (O more then fearfull things!)
They which the fields with rivers did array,
As if to quench their heat, drink up their springs;
Like faded flowers, their drouping tops decay,
Which (crown'd with clouds) stretch'd through the aire their wings,
As did the raine, whil'st fire doth seize all bounds,
What last the first, the last at first confounds.
Then of that birth hils shall delivered be,
Which big by Nature they so long have borne,
Though it fond mortals (slaves by being free)
To make abortives have their bellies torne:
Gold (as when Midas wish, O just decree!)
Shall flow superfluous avarice to scorne.
What of all else did measure once the worth,
Shall then lye loath'd by th'aguous earth spu'd forth.

The godly kings wise sonne from Ophir brought
With Ethnicks joyn'd (all welcome are for gaines)
What Spanyards now in other worlds have sought,
That golden fleece still wonne, and worne with paines:
And yet at last what all this trouble wrought,
From molten mountains shall o're-flow the plains.
Ah, ah curst gold, what mak'st thou men not do,
Since sought over all the earth, and in it too?
Fond curiousnesse made our first parents fall,
And since the same hath still held downe their race;
Whose judgements were to senselesse things made thrall,
Which God most low, and they most high do place;
Nought in themselves, to us by us made all,
The which we first, and then they all things grace;
But (straight dissolv'd) they shall to hell repaire,
To brave a multitude, by them drawne there.
At heaven (when hence) if certaine to arrive,
Then these Barbarians what could much annoy?
Who naked walke, eate hearbes, for nothing strive,
But scorne our toyls, whose treasure is their toy?
As Adam first (when innocent) they live,
And goldlesse thus the golden age enjoy;
We barbarous are in deeds, and they in show,
Too little they, and ah too much we know.
What huge deluge of flames enflames my minde,
Whil'st th'inward ardour that without endeeres?
A light (o're-flowing light) doth make me blinde,
The Sea a lanterne, th'earth a lampe appeares:
That cristall covering burn'd which it confin'de,
The way to ruine fatall lightning cleares.
Dust equals all that unto it return:
All creatures now one funerall fire doth burne.
The stately birds which sacred were to Iove,
Whose portraits did great Emperours powers adorne,
Whil'st generously their race they striv'd to prove,
Which Titans beames with bended eyes had borne,
Shall fall downe headlongs burning from above,
(As Phaeton was fayn'd) ambitions scorne.
“As fit to fall who of themselves presume,
“Those raging wrath doth at the first consume.
The sixth and last of that unmatched kinde,
(If each of them doth live a thousand yeares)
Shall Sabbath have in ashes still confin'd,
Whose birth, death, nest, and tombe all one appeares,
That onely bird which ov'r all others shin'd,
(As o're small lights that which nights darknesse cleares.)
He from renewing of his age by fire,
Shall be prevented ere that it expire.
The Salamander which still Vulcan lov'd,
And those small wormes which in hot waters dwell,
They live by fire, or dye, if thence remov'de,
But those last flames shall both from breath expell;
Those creatures thus by burning heat oft prov'd,
Show tortur'd souls may pine, yet breath in hell:
If those in fire (and with delight) remaine,
May not the wicked live in fire with paine.

That pompous bird which still in triumph beares,
Rould in a circle his ostentive taile,
With starres (as if to brave the starry spheares)
Then seemes at once to walk, to flie, to saile,
His flesh (which to corrupt so long forbeares)
Against destruction shall not now prevaile.
Those painted fowls shall then be baits for fire,
As painted fools be now for endlesse ire.
The Indian Griphon terror of all eyes,
That flying Giant, Nimrod of the ayre,
The scalie Dragon which in ambush lyes
To watch his enemy with a martiall care,
Though breathing flames, touch'd by a flame straight dyes,
And all wing'd monsters made (since hurtfull) rare:
“Types of strong Tyrants which the weake oppresse,
“Those ravenous great ones prey upon the lesse.
Their nimble feathers then shall nought import,
Which with their wings both levell Sea and Land,
The Falcon fierce, and all that active sort,
Which by their burden grace a Princes hand:
And (they for prey, their bearers bent for sport)
Do thrall great Monarchs which even men command:
Ere falne on earth their ashes quenched be,
Whom soar'd of late aloft men scarce could see.
Those birds (but turn'd to dust) againe shall raine,
Which mutinous Israel with a curse receiv'd;
And those for sport so prodigally slaine,
For which (what shame) some belly-monsters crav'd,
Long necks (like Cranes) their tastes to entertaine,
From which the Phœnix hardly can be sav'd.
“In bodies base whose bellies still are full,
“The souls are made (choak'd with grosse vapours) dull.
The feather'd flocks which by a notion strange,
(I know not how inspir'd, or what they see)
Or if their inward following outward change,
As true Astrologues gathering stormes forsee,
In quaking Clouds their murmuring troups which range,
To waile, or warne the world, hiv'd on some tree.
Nought unto them this generall wrack foreshows,
Men, Angels, no, not Christ (as man) fore-knows.
The rage of Time these changlings to appease,
Like fained friends who fortune onely woo:
Which haunt each soile whil'st there they finde their ease,
Though I confesse this shews their greatnesse too,
Who at their will use kingdomes as they please;
Even more then Monarchs with great hosts can do.
But yet where ere they be, they then shall fall,
Gods armie, yea, his arme doth stretch o're all.
Those which themselves in civill warres do match,
Whose sound triumphall Lyons puts to flight,
The mornings ushers, urging sleeps dispatch,
Whose wings applaud their voice saluting light,
The labourers horologe, ordinary watch,
Whose course by Nature rul'd goes alwayes right.
Those Trumpetters dissolving many dreame,
May then not see the day which they proclaime.

So suddenly all shall with ruine meet,
That even the fowl which still doth streames pursue,
As if to wash, or hide, her loath'd black feet,
Then swimmes in state proud of her snowie hue:
Who us'd with tragick notes (though sad, yet sweet)
To make Meanders Nymphs her dying rue.
She then surpris'd, not dreaming of her death,
Shall not have time to tune her plaintive breath.
The winged squadrons which by feeling finde
A body (though invisible) of aire,
Both solid, vaste, clos'd, open, free, confin'de,
Whil'st weight by lightnesse, stayes by moving there;
As swimmers waves, those flyers beat the winde,
Borne by their burdens, miracles if rare.
The feathers fir'd whil'st stretched armes do shrink,
Though thus made lighter, they more heavy sink.
That sort which diving deep, and soaring high,
(Like some too subtle trusting double wayes)
Which swimme with fishes, and with fowls do flie;
Whil'st still their course the present fortune sways.
At last in vaine their liquid fortresse trie,
Of wrath the weapons nought save ruine stayes.
To flie the ayre downe in the deeps they bend,
For want of ayre down in the deeps they end.
Wing'd Alchymists that quintessence the flowers,
As oft-times drown'd before, now burn'd shall be,
Then measuring Artists by their numbrous powers:
Whose works proportions better do agree,
Which do by Colonies uncharge their bowres,
Kill idle ones, sting foes, what needs foresee:
Men talk of vertue, Bees do practise it,
Even justice, temperance, fortitude and wit.
What agony doth thus my soul invest?
I think I see heaven burne, hels gulphs all gape,
My panting heart doth beat upon my breast,
As urging passage that it thence may scape,
Rest from my self, yet no where else, I rest,
Of what I was, reserving but the shape.
My haires are bended up, swolne are mine eyes,
My tongue in silence minds amazement tyes.
Who can but dreame what furies plague thy soule,
Poore sinfull wretch who then art toss'd with breath?
Whil'st desp'rate anguish no way can controule
The raging torrent of consuming wrath,
In every corner where thy eyes can roule,
Their sweetest shows more bitter are then death.
Who can expresse thy feelings, or thy feares,
Which even repentance cannot help with teares?
To look aloft if thou dar'st raise thy sight,
Weigh'd downe (as damn'd by guilty actions gone)
What horrour, terrour, errour, all affright
Thee; trembling thee, who out of time do'st grone?
Oft shalt thou wish that thee falne mountains might
Hide from his face who sits upon the Throne.
But, ah! in vaine a lurking place is sought,
Nought can be covered now, no, not one thought.

The dreadfull noise which that great day proclaimes,
When mix'd with sighs and shouts from mortals here;
O how deform'd a forme confusion frames!
None can well think till that it selfe appeare:
Whil'st clouds of smoke delivered are of flames,
They darken would their birth, it them would cleare,
But whil'st both strive, none victory attaines;
This endlesse darknesse bodes, that endlesse paines.
If seeking help from thy first parent slyme,
Loe Plutoes palace, dungeons of despaire,
(As fir'de by furies) kindled by thy crime,
Bent to encroach upon forbidden ayre,
Do gape to swallow thee before the time,
Whom they fore-see damn'd for a dweller there:
Heaven over thy head, hell burns beneath thy feet,
As both in rage, to fight with flames would meet.
With Owlie eyes which horrid lightnings blinde,
This to admire the reprobate not need;
Match'd with the horrours of a guilty minde,
Nought from without but pleasure can proceed:
Sinke in their bosomes hels and they shall finde
More ugly things a greater feare to breed.
“Of all most loath'd since first the world began,
“No greater Monster then a wicked man.
All sorts of creatures soone consum'd remaine,
Crush'd by their death whose lives on them depend;
(Their treasons partners whom they entertaine)
Mans forfeiture doth too to them extend,
Whom since they can no further serve againe,
(True vassals thus) then with their Lords will end,
Though oft they them like Tyrants did abuse,
Whom as ingrate their dusts that day accuse.
Ere it we can call com'd, that which is past,
Charg'd with corruption slowly I pursue,
Since without hope to reach, though following fast,
That which (like lightning) quickly scapes the view:
I, where I cannot walk, a compasse cast,
And must seek wayes to common knowledge due:
For mortals eares my muse tunes what she sings,
With earthly colours painting heavenly things.
When that great deluge of a generall wrath,
To purge the earth (which sinne had stain'd) did tend,
So to prolong their little puffes of breath,
High mountains tops both Sexes did ascend:
But what strong fort can hold out against death?
Them (where they runne for help) it did attend:
With paine and feare, choak'd, dash'd, (ere dying dead)
Death doubled so was but more grievous made.
So when the flaming waves of wasting fire,
Over all the world do riotously rage,
Some to the deeps for safety shall retyre,
As Thetis kisse could Vulcans wrath asswage;
But that Lieutenant of his makers ire,
Makes all the elements straight beare his badge:
Scorch'd earth made open swallows thousands downe.
Aire thickned choaks with smoke, and waters drowne.

The halting Lemnian highly shall revenge,
The ancient scorne of other equall powers:
Both strong and swift though lame (what wonder strange)
He then (turn'd furious) all the rest devoures,
Whose fiercenesse first his mother toils to change,
But (having him embrac'd) she likewise loures,
And with her sonne doth furiously conspire,
Straight from pure ayre, then all transform'd in fire.
This heat with horrour may congeale all hearts,
Lifes bellows toss'd by breath which still do move;
That fanne which doth refresh the inward parts,
Even it shall make the breast a fornace prove.
That signe of life which oft arrives, and parts,
Boils all within, else burns it selfe above.
At that dread day denouncing endlesse night,
All smoke, not breath, whil'st flames give onely light.
That stormie Tyrant which usurpes the ayre,
Whil'st wooll (rain'd down from heaven) doth him enfold;
A liquid pillar hanging at each haire,
Sneez'd fiercely forth when shaking all for cold:
He clad with flames a fierie leader there,
Makes feeble Vulcan by his aid more bold.
Whose bellows fostred by the others blast,
May soone forge ruine, instruments to waste.
The Lands great creature, nurceling of the East,
Which loves extreamely, and with zeale adores,
In sprite and nature both, above a beast,
Whil'st charg'd with men he through the battell roares:
And his arm'd match (of monsters not the least)
Whose scales defensive, horne invasive goares,
Whil'st foming flames (as other to provoke)
Straight joyn'd in dust, their battell ends in smoke.
The craftie fox which numbers do deceive,
To get, not be, a prey, shall be a prey;
The embrions enemy, womens that conceive,
As who might give him death, their birth to stay:
That ravenous Woolfe which bloud would alwayes have,
All then a thought more quickly shall decay.
No strength then stands, such weaknesse went before,
And subtill tricks can then deceive no more.
The Hart whose hornes (as greatnesse is to all)
Do seeme to grace, are burdens to the head,
With swift (though slender legges) when wounds appall,
Which cures himselfe where Nature doth him leade;
Then with great eyes, weake heart, oft dangers thrall,
The warie Hare (whose feare oft sport) hath made
Doth seek by swiftnesse death in vaine to shunne,
As if a flight of flames could be out-runne,
The painted Panther which not fear'd, doth gore,
Like some whose beauteous face, foule mindes defame;
The Tyger tygrish, past expressing more,
Since cruelty is noted by his name;
The able Ounce, strong Beare, and foming Boare,
(Mans rebels, since God did man his proclaime)
Though fierce are faint, and know not where to turne:
They see the forrests their old refuge, burne.

The mildest beasts importing greatest gaine,
Which others crimes made altars onely touch,
By whom they cloth, and feed, not crying slaine,
The Christians image onely true when such,
Their growing snowes which arts fraile colours staine,
Were wrong'd, when fain'd of gold, since worth more much:
But pretious things the owners harmes oft breed,
The fleeces flames the bodies doe succeed.
The flocks for profit us'd in every part,
Though them to serve they make their Masters bow,
And are the idols of a greedy heart,
Which (like old Egypt) doth adore a Cow,
Like Hannibals, which Fabius mock'd by art,
As walking torches, all runne madding now:
By Phebus tickled they to startle us'd,
But Vulcan ruder makes them rage confus'd.
Their martiall Chieftain Mastives rage to stay,
(Pasiphaes lover, Venus daily slave,)
With brandish'd hornes (as mustering) first doth stray,
Then throwes them down in guard a match to crave;
Straight (like the Colchian Buls, ere Iasons prey)
He flames (not fain'd) doth breath, but not to brave;
Like that of Phalaris, whom one did fill,
He tortur'd, (bellowing) doth lye bullering still.
Of all the beasts by men domesticke made,
The most obsequious, and obedient still,
The fawning dog, which where we list we leade,
And wants but words to doe all that we will,
Which loves his Lord extreamely, even when dead,
And on his tombe, for griefe himselfe doth kill,
He doth with tongue stretch'd forth, to pant begin,
Which straight when fir'd drawn back, burns all within.
The generous horse, the gallants greatest friend,
In peace for ease, and in effect for warre,
Which to his Lord (when weary) legges doth lend,
To flye, or chafe, in sport, or earnest farre,
A Pegasus he through the ayre would bend,
Till that his course (turn'd Centaure) man doth marre;
His waving treasures fir'd, to flye from death,
He first the winde out-runnes, and then his breath.
This squadrons king that doth for fight prepare,
(As threatning all the world) doth raging goe,
His foot doth beat the earth, his tayle the ayre,
Mad to be hurt, and yet not finde a foe,
But soone his shoulders rough the fire makes bare,
And melts his strength which was admired so:
Death doth to rest, arrest his rowling eyes;
Loe, in a little dust the Lyon lyes.
Those poys'nous troupes in Africkes fields which stray,
In death all fertile, as the first began,
By looke, by touch, by wound, and every way,
True Serpents heires in hatred unto man,
Which God (still good) in desarts makes to stay,
To waste the world, though doing what they can:
But whil'st they houle, scritch, barke, bray, hurle, hisse, spout,
Their inward fire soon meets with that without.

The Crocodile with running deepes in love,
By land and water, of tyrannicke pow'r,
With upmost iawes which (and none else) doe move,
Whose cleansing first is sweet, oft after sow'r;
And oft his crime his punishment doth prove,
Whil'st a devouring bait train'd to devoure:
He neither now can fight, nor yet retire,
His scaly armour is no proofe for fire.
The beast (though haunting deeps) not there confin'd,
Whose haires as pretious decke each great mans head,
Before like Eagles, like a Swans behinde,
Whose feet (as oares) to manage streames are made,
To waste the liquid wayes not needing winde,
Whose tayle his course doth as a rudder leade,
A sparke (falne from a tree) may then confound,
Him with his teeth that now strikes trees to ground.
The Otter black where finne-wing'd troups repaire,
Fresh rivers robber, which his prey doth chuse,
And all that kinde, nor fish, nor flesh that are,
But do two elements (Amphibions) use,
Not able to touch th'earth, nor to draw th'aire
In waters they their kindled skinnes infuse.
But yet can refuge finde in neither soile,
They burne on th'earth, and in the deeps do boile.
Flouds seeme to groane which beasts incursion maymes,
All altered then which look't of late like glasse,
And murmur at the stayning of their streames,
By carkasses flot-flotting in a masse,
A moving bridge whil'st every channell frames,
When as there are no passengers to passe.
With beasts all buried waters are press'd downe,
Whil'st both at once their burdens burn, and drowne.
The Crystals quicke which slowly us'd to go,
And others heat by coldnesse did allay,
(As if then griev'd to be polluted so)
Growne red with rage, boil'd up, pop-popling stay,
And tread in triumph on their breathlesse foe,
Whose ashes with their sands they levell lay.
But Vulcan now a victor in each place,
By violence doth all these Nymphs embrace.
The dwellers of the deeps not harm'd in ought,
When first vice all, and next the waters drown'd,
So since by some more sacred still are thought,
As whom sinnes scourge did onely not confound,
The Elements not pure to purge now brought,
Are likewise ruin'd by this generall wound.
The fishes then are boil'd in every flood,
Yet finde no eater that can relish food.
All which corruption onely serves to feed,
When it doth end, doth end, so heaven designes;
Nought save the soule which doth from God proceed,
Over death triumphs, and still is pleas'd, else pynes,
Death not mans essence, but his sinne did breed,
And it with it, the end of time confines.
Then death and life shall never meet againe,
The state then taken always doth remaine.

Salt seas, fresh streames, the fish which loves to change,
(The rivers Prince esteem'd by dainty tastes)
Which through the Ocean though at large he range,
The bounds him bred to see yet yearely hastes;
Ah man oft wants (O monster more then strange)
This kinde affection common even to beasts.
That Salmond fresh for which so many strive,
May then be had, boil'd where it liv'd alive.
The Trout, the Eele, and all that watrie brood,
Which without feet, or wings can make much way,
Then leape aloft forc'd by the raging flood,
Not as they us'd before, for sport, or prey:
That which (once freez'd) their glasse to gaze in stood,
Now (turn'd to flames) makes what it bred decay.
Those which to talke men did all snares allow,
All without baits, or nets, are taken now.
These flouds which first did fields with streames array,
The rivers foure by sacred writ made knowne,
Which (since farre sundry) make their wits to stray,
Who Paradise drawne by their dreames have showne,
As turn'd from it, or it from them away;
In all the earth their strength shall be o're-throwne.
Whom first high pleasures, horrours huge last bound,
(As if for griefe) they vanish from the ground.
The fertile Nilus never rashly mov'd,
Which (ag'd in trauell) many Countrey knows,
Whose inundation by the labourer lov'd,
As barrennesse or plenty it fore-shows,
From divers meanes (but doubtfull all) is prov'd;
“Oft natures work all reasons power o're-throws:
The Ancients wondred not to finde his head,
But it shall all invisible be made.
Heavens indignation seizing on all things,
The greatest waters languish in their way;
The little brooks exhausted in their springs,
For poverty cannot their tribute pay:
Of moisture spoil'd the earth craves help, not brings;
“The mighty thus left to themselves decay;
“Great powers compos'd make but of many one,
“Whose weaknesse shows it selfe when left alone.
That floud whose fame more great then waters strayd,
Whose race (like it) more then their own would owe,
Which from the Appennines oft gathering ayde,
Would those overthrow, who did the world o'rethrow,
Which though unstable, onely stable stay'd,
In that great City where all else fell low:
It which so long familiar was with fame,
Shall be (dry'd up) an unregarded streame.
The Sheep-heards mirrours, all like silver pure,
Which curious eyes delighted were to see,
When flames from heaven their beauties must endure,
No creature then left from confusion free,
Even they shall grow more ugly and obscure,
Then the infernall flouds are fain'd to be:
Of their long course, there shall no signe remaine,
Worse then that lake where brimstone once did raine.
Whil'st Thetis bent to Court, those streames (as vaine)
That on themselves to gaze, strive time to winne,
And liquid Serpents winding through the Plaine,
(As if to sting the earth oft gathered in)
Seeme to attend the remnant of their traine,
Them to out-goe, that nearer wayes would runne:
Even in that pompe surpris'd, dry'd are their deeps,
Whose widow'd bed, scarce their impression keeps.
That floud which doth his name from silver take,
The sea-like Obbe, and others of the Indes;
Over which a bridge, men by no meanes can make,
Whil'st one borne there (amazing strangers mindes)
On Straw or Reeds, with one behinde his backe,
Can crosse them all both scorning waves and windes:
Their empty channels may be troad on dry,
(Though pav'd with pearles) then pretious in no eye.
The great which change before they end their race,
Salt flouds, fresh seas, by mutuall bands as past,
Which th'Ocean charge, and though repuls'd a space,
Yet make a breach, and enter at the last,
Which from the earth (that strives them to embrace)
Now haste with speed, and straight a compasse cast:
They then for helpe to Neptune seeke in vaine,
By Vulcan ravish'd ere his waves they gaine.
The raging rampire which doth alwaies move,
Whose floting waves entrench the solid round,
And (whil'st by Titans kisse drawne up above,)
From heavens Alembicke dropt upon the ground,
Of fruits and plants, the vitall bloud doe prove,
And foster all that on the earth are found:
It likewise yeelds to the eternals ire,
Loe, all the sea not serves to quench this fire.

Yet did the Sea presage this threatned ill,
With ugly roarings ere that it arriv'd,
As if contending all hels fires to kill,
By violence to burst, whil'st through it driv'd,
Which must make monstrous sounds jar-jarring still,
As heate with cold, with moisture drynesse striv'd:
Whil'st Iove-like thundring, Pluto doth grow proud,
Even as when fires force passage through a cloud.
O what strange sight, not to be borne with eyes!
That Tennis-court where oft the windes too bold,
What still rebounded toss'd unto the skies,
And to the ground from thence have head-longs rol'd,
Doth now in raging rounds, not furrowes rise,
Then hostes of heate, as us'd to be of cold:
All government the liquid state neglects,
Whil'st Vulcans hammer, Neptunes trident breks.
When this huge vessell doth to boyle begin,
What can it fill with matter fit to purge?
The earth as else without, if throwne within,
With all her creatures kept but for a scourge,
To wash away the foulnesse of that sinne,
Which on fraile flesh, strong nature oft doth urge:
But ah my thoughts are vaine, this cannot be,
Seas cleanse not sinne, sinne doth defile the sea.
O foule contagion, spreading still to death,
What pest most odious can with thee compare?
Which first by thoughts conceiv'd, then born with breath,
Doth straight infect the sea, the earth the ayre,
Which damn'd in justice, and chastis'd in wrath,
Doth shew that God no creatures spots will spare:
All scourges must be scourg'd, and even the fire,
As but impure, must feele th'effects of ire.
That restlesse element which never sleepes,
But by it selfe, when by nought else, is wrought,
Which joynes all lands, yet them asunder keepes,
It (ruines rocke) for refuge last is sought,
For troupes doe throw themselves amidst the deeps,
As if death reft, then given, lesse griefe were thought:
“Thus is despaire hot sonne of father cold,
“Rash without hope, and without courage bold.
The loving Alcion trusty to her mate,
The which (save this) no other storme could catch,
Whose arke not erres amid'st the going gate,
Though none in it with art the waves doth watch,
To many monsters, as expos'd a bait,
Which moving sits, and in the deepes doth hatch:
She of her nest, against the waves presumes,
But never look't for fire which all consumes.
The greatest Monster of the Oceans brood,
Which lodg'd griev'd Ionas harmelesse in his wombe,
And did disgest (yet to be fed) a food,
A buried quicke man in a living tombe,
Doth (monstrous masse) now tumble through the floud,
As scorning force could make him to succumbe:
But straight his finnes all fir'd, a farre doe shine,
As if some Pharos, but a deathfull signe.
That little wonder decking Thetis bowre,
Whose adamantine touch there strongly bindes
(Though both it saile and swimme) a wooden towre,
For which mans wit no shew of reason findes;
O matchlesse vertue, admirable power,
Which fights and foiles alone, sailes, oares, waves, winds!
Of all which live it that most strength hath shown,
Press'd down by vulgar bands doth dye unknown.
That moving mountaine in a fearefull forme,
Which compassing a ship, it downewards flings,
And even in calmes doth vomit forth a storme,
Whose bloud (all poison) where it touches stings,
That monstrous masse, if Serpent, Eele, or Worme,
To hastie ruine his owne greatnesse brings:
“The greatest sought for harmes are soonest spy'd,
“Where little ones a little thing will hide.
Of all the humid host, the most esteem'd,
The gentle Dolphins (where the deepths doe roare,)
Which (not ingrate) who them redeem'd, redeem'd,
Him help'd alive, and did when dead deplore;
Of which one once with Musicke ravish'd seem'd,
When carrying Arion safely to the shore:
Those which delight so much in pleasant sounds,
The contrary preventing fire confounds.
The fairest Nymph which haunts the floting state,
To whose great beauty, Thetis envy beares,
The Oceans Muse, from whose sweet sounds (soules bate)
The Lord of Ithaca did stop his eares,
Of what she was most proud, that hastes her fate;
The golden haires which she dishevel'd weares:
Then whil'st they burne, her head seemes crown'd with light:
Thus showes maske misery, and mocke the sight.
Those which from slight, by slight their lives oft winne,
The Angler drawing scorned lines to land,
Whil'st some do cast forth hooks, some draw them in,
And some benumme the gazing holders hand;
They can finde helpe in neither force, nor finne,
In scale, in shell, on rocke, in mudde, or sand:
Whil'st Tritons sounds to tragick notes doe turne,
They in the deeps are boil'd, or, on the banks do burne.
The floting lodgings that all soiles doe try,
Which whil'st they walke on waves, and burden'd stray,
Seeme swimming Mountaines, Castles that doe flye,
Which Cannons arme, and ensignes doe array,
At first for smoake they nought about them spy,
Till all their sayles (on fire) doe cleare their way:
Whil'st flouds and flames, doe all their force imploy,
As if they striv'd, which should the ship destroy.
The liquid labyrinth, thou who first did'st prove,
No doubt thy desp'rate heart was arm'd with steele,
Did not the waves and clouds which alwaies move,
(Firme objects wanting) make thy eyes to reele?
Then he who first did steale fire from above,
Thou greater torments do'st deserve to feele:
He onely sought the fire to quicken breath,
And thou the water, as a way to death.
O! hatefull monster, since the world began,
Which with thine owne could never yet be pleas'd,
For lacke of rayment cold, for hunger wan,
With what thou hast, though many might be eas'd,
Thou poison'st first the quiet minde of man,
Whose fury since can never be appeas'd:
But seekes both sea and land with endlesse care,
And wants but wings to violate the aire.
That which encroach'd on every bordering shore,
By oft renu'd assaults usurping myles,
Shall then all ebbe, not flowing as before,
Whil'st travelling Thetis doth bring forth new Iles,
Which birth soone old, to be embrac'd no more,
She loth to leave, oft turnes, and kissing smiles:
Till all the world one withered masse appeares,
Spoild of all moisture, save mans fruitlesse teares.
What hideous object? what a horrid sight?
O terrour strange which even I quake to thinke!
Where all of late was levell at one height,
Their mountaines mount, and fields farre down do sinke,
All pav'd with monsters, which if painting right,
Feare would make paper blacke, and pale my Inke:
The seas with horrour so arrest my hand,
I must amaz'd retire me to the land,
The land where pleasure lodg'd, where rest did rest,
Which did abound in fruits, in fowles and beasts,
Of which (all good) none could discerne the best,
In number more (though many) then mens tastes,
Which should refresh fraile nature when distress'd,
Though them fond man superfluously wastes:
Till that the earth doth to a Chaos turne,
Which since his teares not wash, his sinnes shall burne.

Where are the flowry fields, the fishy streames,
The pasturing mountaines, and the fertile plaines,
With shadowes oft, oft clad with Titans beames,
As of heavens pleasures types, and of hels paines?
(Thus in our brest, some thoughts each moment claimes,
To curbe rash joy with contemplations raines
Where are all those delights in league with sense,
Which make a heaven when here, a hell when hence?
Thou who thy thoughts from no fond course reclaimes,
But do'st thy eyes with pleasant objects cloy,
And let'st thy heart have all at which it aymes,
Bent of the sonnes of men to want no joy;
Those to thy sleeping soule are all but dreames,
Which waking findes this treasure but a toy:
Thinke, thinke, when all confounded thus remaines,
If temporall joy be worth eternall paines.
Those stately townes, whose towres did brave heavens rounds,
Their kingdomes quintessence for wealth and skill,
A states abridgement drawn in little bounds,
Which are (whil'st them guests of all lands doe fill)
Mappes of the world, deduc'd from divers grounds,
Where all lifes parts are act'd, both good and ill,
Which barbarous customes founded to remove,
Most civill first, most subtile last did prove.
Those which great Monarchs strongly striv'd to owe,
(As which oft times a kingdomes keyes doe prove)
By Mynes like earth-quakes shaken from below,
By sulphurous thunder battered from above,
Yet (as o're-thrown) them hopelesse to o're-throw,
With scorned squadrons did disdain'd remove:
Those which at powers of armed Emperours spurn'd,
Are at an instant then, charg'd, sack'd, and burn'd.
Brave Citizens which have resisted long,
Till their dismantled towne all naked stands,
And are by weakenesse left unto the strong,
All taken, kill'd, or sold (like beasts) in bands,
As bound of right to suffer all the wrong,
Of railing tongues, or of outragious hands:
They of this last assault, no type can see,
Even worse then was, or can imagin'd be.
Ah! if one house when onely fir'd by chance,
Doth straight confound a City all with feare,
What minde can think, though thoughts the same entrance,
How those inhabitants themselves shall beare,
Whose townes (like lightning) vanish with a glance,
Whil'st them a moment doth in pieces teare?
This with amazement may benumme the minde,
But will seeme small, a greater then divin'd
Base miser, thou who by all meanes hast us'd,
To bruise the poore, and on their spoiles to feed,
In measure, weight, and quality abus'd,
Whil'st of all evils, dearth is the least they dread,
That wealth by thee even to thy selfe refus'd,
Which might of thousands have releev'd the need:
Shall all in flames upbraid thee with hels fire,
Whose use then at thy hands God will require.
Thou who to riches wast preferr'd from nought,
Though once but poore, contemn'd, of base degree,
For whom at length all realmes by Shippes were sought,
So that no winde could blow but serving thee,
Yet would not comfort those who starv'd in ought,
Not mindefull what thou wast, nor what to be:
As naked borne, thou naked shalt returne,
Else kept to see thy wealth, thy selfe next burne.
Those stately Statues which great townes doe grace,
And monuments (as rare) which mindes amaze,
The worlds seven wonders, wondred at a space,
Whil'st strangers long did on their reliques gaze,
If that ere then time doe them not deface,
A little flash shall even their ruines raze,
Which onely serve to witnesse to each sight,
Their idle builders vanity and might.
Those Palaces amongst rare things enrold,
Which Architectors, numbrous art bewray,
With enterlaced roofes, emboss'd with gold,
On marbled walles which costly workes array,
Though rich without, yet worthy but to hold,
A richer riches, which within doth stay,
Past emulation, admirations marke;
All their great pompe doth perish with a sparke.
Those second Edens, Gardens of delight,
Where times bright patron justly parts the houres,
Where men to gaze, all objects doe invite,
In alwaies lying walkes, and growing bowres,
In smelling beds with pleasure ravish'd quite,
Whil'st wandring in a labyrinth of flowers,
Where Art with nature still for praise contends,
A strife though oft times judg'd, which never ends.

Where Flora's treasures with Pomona's strive,
Low shining groves with shadow'd lights above,
Whil'st Art (by engines rais'd,) doth water drive,
Borne through the ayre an uncouth way to prove,
And by all sounds which creatures can contrive,
To melt in mirth, would melancholy move:
Those pleasant parts shall straight abhorr'd remaine,
As where salt sowne, or showres of brimstone raine.
Those walking worms which (with worms spoiles array'd,)
Would purchase homage from each credulous eye,
And yet (as Asses) worth an Asse not weigh'd,
Whil'st having nought of worth, but what they buy,
They shall see that which so their fancies sway'd,
The Tyrian purple, and th' Assyrian dye:
Of pride the badges, and the baits of lust,
Though kept with toile from dust, all turn'd to dust.
Those glorious roomes of darknesse, robbing night,
Where even the wals rich garments doe invest,
Where ivory beds, with gold all glancing bright,
Are made for shew, as others are for rest,
And objects need to entertaine the sight,
Which lodge (since great) a seldome sleeping guest:
Now at this last alarme to them who live,
They then a cottage no more comfort give.
Those pretious stones which most in worth excell,
For vertue least, for vanity much sought,
Pearles, Rubies, Diamonds, from rocke, from shell,
From depths of flouds, from mountains entrails brought,
Made Gods with men, whose heaven is hatching hell,
Prys'd by opinion, but by substance bought:
The sweet perfumes, and all which is esteem'd,
Wast (by the owners wish) not once redeem'd.
That dreadfull storme as striving to begin,
Mount Ætna's flames, which roare while as supprest,
And that which swallowing natures student in,
Did him digest, who could it not digest,
And all those hils whence streames of sulphur run,
Shall with their fires, then fortifie the rest:
Whose generall floud, whil'st it the world o're-comes,
None knowes where kindled first, nor whence it comes.
The lucrous coal (though black) a pretious stone,
Whose force as Vulcan will, makes Mars to bend,
Of Albions jewels second unto none,
To Art and Nature both a speciall friend,
Then when of it the needfull use is gone;
What it maintain'd, it likewise helps to end.
And thus the earth (though cold) with fire then stor'd,
To burne it selfe materials doth afford.
Those bathing springs which free Physitians prove,
Yet for all Evils one onely cure can show,
The which may seeme whil'st boyling up above,
A part of Phlegeton o're-flow'd below:
But for mans health nought can from thence remove,
Where he doth dwell who would the world o'rethrow.
Then every one of them to hell repaires,
Or else a greater heat doth drink up theirs.
Great Monarchs whom ambitious hopes do drive,
To raise their owne by razing others Thrones,
Who spare no wayes that there they may arrive,
Through Orphans teares, mans bloud, and womans grones,
And all those earthly mindes which for th'earth strive,
By passing bounds, and altering setled stones;
All such that day not Lords of their owne grave,
Shall have no earth, nor them no earth shall have.
The earth as glorying in her changed state,
With face all bright with flames, seemes lightning smiles,
Whil'st free from wounds and toils, indur'd of late,
Oft burn'd, oft freez'd, which every day defiles,
Though forc'd she must conceive (a fertile mate)
Her husbands hopes who often times beguiles.
And as she would revenge all troubles past,
She yeelds up man whom she had hid at last.
That Element which onely needing aid,
May be made more, and doth on others feed,
Whose piercing powers can in no bounds be staid;
Such bodies small that thickned rarenesse breed,
The onely essence which can not be weigh'd,
And void of weight, doth alwayes upward speed.
That soone may seize on all when once set free,
Which infinitly multipli'd may be.
But lest my furie be too farre declin'd,
That with the flames to flie have striv'd in vaine,
I must a space within my selfe confin'd,
Fresh succours seek to charge of new againe;
So great amazement hath o're-whelm'd my minde,
That now I in an agony remaine.
But he who did in fierie tongues descend,
As through the fire, will leade me to the end.

William Alexander

Doomes-Day: The Tenth Houre - William Alexander

To this great Court, all come from every land,
T'attend the sentence of their joy, or paine,
And straight the blessed and the damned band,
Are here to part, no more to meet againe;
But first the wicked and the divell doe stand,
Against Christs justice grudging, to complaine:
Till both are straight transported unto hell,
Where they together must for ever dwell.
Heavens Monarch with great Majesty doth sit,
His count'nance flaming from a stately throne;
This processe doth no deputy admit,
But he himselfe is Iudge of every one;
Due reverence forc'd with circumstances fit,
Whil'st murmuring guiltinesse doth sadly grone,
The bookes of conscience open doe remaine,
And all accuse of that which they containe.

Some seeme not apt to heare by distance made,
(Much place possess'd) when all the world are met,
O! but his voyce (which they even heard when dead)
May to their eares who live soone passage get;
And some would thinke their noyse for feare who fade,
Should all heavens circuit with confusion set:
If from his Court each Iudge can tumult take,
Who order'd order may an order make.
Who can that Throne imagine in his minde,
Where starres would be but staines, and terrours grace?
Yet (as in gold a Diamond enshrin'd)
More glorious he who doth adorne that place;
All darknesse is, which any where hath shin'd,
If match'd with rayes of that majesticke face:
And all to crowne what further can be told?
There God in person his chiefe Court doth hold.
This mighty Iudge that comes downe from above,
No end at all in any sort can sway;
No intercession can his judgement move,
No Advocates defend, no, not delay,
No witnesse wants, nor circumstance to prove,
Time so to gaine, as something were away:
Hence none appeales, nor can revoke when done;
A doome eternall is concluded soone.
Large is the count of life (though short) when gone,
The parting violent, the passage short,
The judgement bitter, terrible the throne,
Which even from Saints a terrour must extort;
Huge are the faults, weake the discharge, else none,
The Iudge is just, which rigour doth import:
A court from whence all goe with God to dwell,
Or with the divels for ever in the hell.

The harvests Lord straight takes his fanne in hand,
And fines the fine, thence the refuse doth chase;
The guilty Goates are gathered in one band,
The Sheepe (as pretious) take apart their place;
The godly all are rang'd at his right hand,
And all the wicked wrap'd in blacke disgrace:
Then from the wheate, the darnell he removes,
A separation which eternall proves.
No shifting here, the processe must be short,
Whereas there needs no proofe, since none deny,
No torture strange, confession doth extort,
More fit mens patience, then the truth to try,
Which (joyn'd with conscience) witnesses report,
Whil'st thoughts depose what hid in hearts did lye:
Men, Angels, divels, not onely them accuse,
But God against themselves, themselves doth use.
All those who are for endlesse wrath prepar'd,
With, and within themselves (poore wretches) bring
Those witnesses, by which should be declar'd,
All ends, or aymes, each thought, or acted thing,
That (ere examin'd) damned, since despair'd,
Their guilty soules a thousand Serpents sting:
Breasts then transparent, hearts are clearely knowne,
And what was hid, to all the world is showne.
That which is clear'd, and by such sure records,
None can impugne, nor controvert in ought;
It were a folly to contest in words,
(Where deeds doe damne) with him who knowes each thought;
Then wit, nor power, no power to purge affords,
All science else to joyne with conscience brought:
Sinnes deeps long smooth'd (when stirr'd) do ugly grow,
And toss'd by monsters of themselves o're-flow.

The hoasts of darkenesse with accustom'd gall,
Mindes which they long have smooth'd to tosse beginne,
And (as their partners) privy unto all,
Cite every circumstance that proves the sinne,
Then urge, and aggravate each forme of fall,
(Since damn'd themselves) so to draw others in:
What refuge (ah) can guilty caitives chuse,
Within whil'st conscience, divels without accuse?
Ere Time dismiss'd, surrender up his charge,
To cleare old reck'nings, cited at this Throne,
Of all earst fayn'd to passe the fatall barge,
He (still a witnesse) tels each action gone;
And like a scroule wrapt up, (which had beene large,)
Past, present, future, all contract'd in one,
Straight (so united) straines his dying flight,
Else stayes accomplish'd ever all in sight.
Vaine mortalls sinnes in which they pleasure take,
Like mountaines them to crush remembred be,
Which swallow'd sweet, but bitter when spu'd backe,
Breed burning Agues, Pests of high degree;
So foule a forme, not Styx it selfe could make,
As in mindes glasse the gazing soule doth see:
The minde a fury, and the thoughts turn'd snakes,
To sting the soule, hels ugly monster shakes.
Those brests like earth-quakes, which rebounding grone,
Charg'd with a monstrous weight, press'd by despaire,
To driry dungeons, would with haste be gone,
Where of hels horrours, many thousands share:
It grieves the griev'd to stand, where any one,
Much more where numbers joyfull doe repaire:
Whil'st mock'd by divels, whose flight no more them blindes,
Their state no helpe, no, nor yet pitty findes.

As Theeves, the object of contempt, and shame,
Though others prove, and they their crime confesse,
Must stand till some their sentence doe proclame,
That righted rigour have lawes power to presse,
So those stain'd troupes whom sinnes black scroules defame,
Must stay a space to apprehend distresse;
Till all their processe formally be made,
That devills them thence to execution leade.
But whil'st pale squadrons shrinke (as pinch'd by feare)
And would themselves, even willingly destroy,
The bands design'd for blisse their Courage reare
Farre from each thought that can the soule annoy,
And (like bright starres triumphing in their spheare)
With shouts burst forth the height of heavenly joy;
Not as made happie, or from trouble free,
But ravish'd with delight their Lord to see.
Whil'st Pilgrimes here amidst afflictions field,
Though sometime foil'd, those still did fight with sinne,
And had of faith a diamantine shield,
Which oft was bruis'd, but never entred in;
Their forts they (forc'd) but for a time did yeeld,
To death by Covenant, life so to beginne;
Then marching hence with all that was their owne,
Left earth to th'earth, remov'd, but not o'rethrowne.
At that last conflict confidently bold,
Besides the earnest which they had before,
Then satisfi'd, their surety rests enroll'd,
Free from defects, not to be question'd more,
And (by good Angels naughty sprits contrould,
Who seeke their Shipwrack, when almost at shoare)
They with the world all worldly troubles leave:
Ere th'earth their bodies, heavens their soules receave.

Thus (farre from feare of any further ill)
Sweet Quiristers enstall'd in state above,
With troupes of Angels keeping concord still,
As then their life, so infinite their love;
Now that his worke their maker may fulfill,
Those come rebodied where they first did move;
Not to be judg'd, no, but to be made cleere,
And that in them Gods goodnesse may appeare.
And he who most affects the fruits of grace,
Ere forc'd to punish, franke to give reliefe,
Whose Clemency of justice takes the place,
As, even for heaven, held of all vertues chiefe,
He did afford, and doth confirme their peace,
To wicked men the first degree of griefe;
Who marke by them what happinesse they misse,
And weigh their torments by upbrayding blisse.
Christ lightning love surveighes that joyfull band,
Since them (even then while as they wretched seem'd)
He did foresee by grace reserv'd to stand,
And could not faile to know whom he redeem'd,
Their honour now (when plac'd at his right hand)
Can by no meanes be high enough esteem'd;
He doth delight in them as his owne broode,
Who had their being onely from his bloode.
That happie squadron is not question'd now,
What ill they did, what good they did neglect,
No circumstance is urg'd, when, where, nor how,
They oft had fail'd, in what God did direct;
He trusts, not tries, not counts, but doth allow;
The Lord in Israell will no fault detect,
But absolutely doth absolve them all,
And from their bondage to a kingdome call.

You whom my Father bless'd (noe more dismai'd)
Come, and enjoy that boundlesse kingdom now,
Which ere the worlds foundations first were lai'd,
By heavens decree hath beene prepar'd for you,
With raies more bright, then are the Sunnes, arrai'd,
Before the Throne you shall with reverence bow;
The height of pleasure which you should possesse,
No tongue of man is able to expresse.
When press'd by famine you me friendly fed,
And did with drinke my scorching thirst allay;
You with your garments mee (when naked) cled,
Whose kindely visits sickenesse could not stay;
No, even in prison, they mee comfort bred,
Thus (Charity extended every way)
Your treasures (kept in heaven) for int'rest gaine,
That you enrich'd eternally remaine.
With sprituall joy each one transported sings,
And (lifted up) to heaven in haste would flie,
But yet this speech so great amazement brings,
That modestly they (as with doubt) replie;
Unbounded Lord, when didst thou lack such things,
That there was cause our willingnesse to try?
Who nothing had but what thou gav'st to us;
How couldst thou need, or we afford it thus?
That which was given (as now I do reveale)
Unto the least of those whom I held deare,
(Saith Christ) deep grav'd with an eternall seale,
As due by me, I do acknowledge here;
Those were the objects prompted for your zeale,
By which your goodnesse onely could appeare;
“Best Magazines for wealth the poore did prove,
“Where, when laid up, no thiefe could it remove.

Thus helpfull almes the off'ring most esteem'd,
Doth men on th'earth, the Lord in heaven content,
How many are (if time might be redeem'd)
Who wish they thus their revenues had spent?
If this on th'earth so profitable seem'd,
What Usurer would for others gaines be bent?
But would the poore with plenty oft supply,
Though they themselves for want were like to die.
Those who (affecting vaine ambitions end)
To gaine opinion muster all in show,
And (prodigall) superfluously spend,
All what they have, or able are to owe,
For pleasures fraile whil'st straying fancies tend,
As Paradise could yet be found below:
Still pamp'ring flesh with all that th'earth can give,
No happinesse more seek but here to live.
Those if not gorgeous who do garments scorne,
And not in warmnesse, but for cost exceed,
Though as of wormes they have the entrails worne,
Wormes shall at last upon their entrails feed;
Those dainty tastes who (as for eating borne)
That they may feast, strive appetite to breed:
And (curious gluttons) even of vilenesse vaunt,
Whil'st surfetting when thousands starve for want.
The worlds chiefe Idoll, nurse of fretting cares,
Dumbe trafficker, yet understood o're all,
States chaine, lifes maintenance, load-starre of affaires,
Which makes all Nations voluntar'ly thrall,
A subtle Sorcerer, alwayes laying snares;
How many (money) hast thou made to fall!
The generall jewell, of all things the price,
To vertue sparing, lavish unto vice.

The foole that is unfortunately rich,
His goods perchance doth from the poore extort,
Yet leaves his brother dying in a ditch,
Whom one excesse (if spar'd) would well support;
And (whil'st the love of gold doth him bewitch)
This Misers misery gives others sport;
“The prodigall Gods creatures doth abuse,
And them the wretch not necessar'ly use.
Those roving thoughts which did at randome soare,
And (though they had conveniently to live)
Would never look behinde, but farre before,
And (scorning goodnesse) to be great did strive;
For (still projecting how to purchase more)
Thus (bent to get) they could not dreame to give.
“Such mindes whom envy hath fill'd up with grudge,
Have left no roome, where charity may lodge.
Ah! who of those can well expresse the griefe,
Whom once this earth did for most happy hold?
Of all their neighbours still esteem'd the chiefe,
Whil'st strai'd opinion ballanc'd worth by gold;
That which to thousands might have given reliefe,
Wrong spent, or spar'd, is for their ruine told;
Thus pleasures past, what anguish now doth even?
We see how hardly rich men go to heaven.
That speech pronounc'd to the elected band,
May make the wicked apprehend their part,
Whose black accounts, ere them the Iudge demand,
Strict conscience offers, summ'd in every heart:
Thus (freez'd with horrour) they dejected stand,
Not hoping help by power, nor yet from Art:
And whil'st their souls are swallow'd up by feare,
This fatall sentence thunders in each eare.

You souls accurst who have provok'd mine ire,
(Detested crue) not worthy of my sight,
Go, get you hence to hels tormenting fire,
Which hath of heat, that which it lacks of light;
Where (with his Angels) Satan must retire,
To be entomb'd in an eternall night:
This as their due was first for them prepard
But (since their Mates) it must with you be shar'd.
When I was hungry, you refus'd me meat;
When I was thirsty, would afford no drink;
When I was naked, cloth'd me not of late;
When I was sick, did of no kindenesse think,
And when a stranger, held me at the gate;
Then when in prison, quite away did shrink:
Thus as compassion never mov'd your minde,
You from henceforth shall no compassion finde.
Though griev'd to look upon his flaming face,
They thus dare tempt, yet without hope to move;
When saw we thee (O Lord!) in any place,
Where our support might have procur'd thy love?
Who had not wish'd that he himselfe might grace,
By helping one descended from above?
If such can here be found, damn'd may they be,
Who would not lodge, feed, clothe, and visit thee.
With fortunes trifles confidently proud,
And puffed up with an applauding noise,
You for the poore (saith Christ) no share allow'd,
Yet choak'd your owne desires with pleasures choice,
Whil'st at your feet they (fainting) humbly bow'd,
Though heard in heaven, you scorn'd to heare their voice;
These men thus us'd who were my members pris'd,
Even me in them you likewise then despis'd.

The sentenc'd squadron sunk below despaire,
At first o're-whelm'd (as if distract'd) remaine;
And have their breasts all torne with stormy care,
Both for their losse, and for th'approaching paine,
Yet mindes perverse their course doth still declare,
Who when condemn'd, do straight accuse, and plaine:
Not that they seek to have the truth be seene,
No, hate, and envy do provoke their spleene.
That which thou hast decreed obey we must,
Nor will we seek (say they) the same to breake,
Yet since as judge most great, so be most just,
Ere damn'd for ever, heare us once to speake;
Ah! abject creatures fetter'd in the dust,
In minde, and body, every way too weake:
Though huge our sinnes, and scarce to be excus'd,
To make us fall too many wayes were us'd.
Each seed must grow as by the labourer sown,
Though earthen vessels, vessels of thy hand,
We were expos'd (to make thy justice known)
Where sinne was strong, a weake neglected band,
And those whom thou selected for thine owne,
(As mercies objects) strengthned were to stand;
Thus as at first made fit for wrath, or grace,
How could thy creatures but direct their race?
How could we scape where dangers were so rife,
Of thy support whom thou didst quite deprive?
Since those whom thou appointed had'st for life,
By thy protection did securely live;
And thou wast still when they succumb'd in strife,
As first to helpe, straight ready to forgive:
And oft in them who have beene guarded thus,
Thou pardon'd more then punish'd is in us.

What way could we, fraile fortresses, defend,
Against Hels Lord with legions bent for ill,
Who even in heaven so proudly durst contend,
Whil'st flying armies shining fields did fill?
And though he fail'd in compassing his end,
Yet here below was refractary still;
Though by this meanes unto confusion brought,
Whil'st bold to vaunt, that once with God he fought.
Our earth-bred Parents when they seem'd most sure,
With vigorous souls, both strong, and free from staine,
These monsters straight their ruine did procure,
And made them lose what they themselves not gaine,
Even Paradise where we had liv'd secure,
Were not for others faults what we sustaine:
Thus long ere borne our processe did begin,
When so made weake, and apt for further sinne.
That roaring Tyrant who still loath'd the light,
Did first tempt thee to have made bread of stones,
Then would have mov'd thee from a Temples height,
By falling headlong to have crush'd thy bones;
Last, on a Mountaine (mounted out of sight)
The worlds great kingdomes offred all at once;
He durst demand that thou should'st him adore,
Then judge by these if his assaults were sore.
Still compassing the earth his prey to spie,
Not onely of him selfe he aym'd at all,
But by direction did some persons plie,
Who were given o're to his invasion thrall;
As when he made proud Achabs Prophets lye,
And train'd him forth where as ordain'd to fall;
What mortall strength could scape to be subdu'd,
When warranted by God, the devill pursu'd?

Thus left by thee, and by him courted still,
Thy grace with-drawn, his favours mustred faire,
How could poore wretches wrestling with selfe-will,
But soone be catch'd by such a subtle snare?
We but through weaknesse, not in spite wrought ill,
Kept from repentance onely by despaire:
Then let not rigour take up mercies place,
Thy greatest glory is in giving grace.
All tendernesse by justice quite exil'd,
Whil'st this their grudge doth indignation move,
That Lambe of God who still hath beene so milde,
Of Iudas Tribe doth then the Lyon prove,
And marking them whom filthie sinnes defil'd,
Like abject swine not looking up above:
At their repining taking just offence,
Perchance his answer may import this sense.
O faulty Fathers, execrable race,
Though by your birth you but of death could boast,
What forfeitures have I restor'd by grace?
You might have gain'd more then your Parents lost,
Some (forcing heaven) with zeale did me embrace,
Who now triumph as a victorious hoast;
To do the like they oft did you exhort,
Whom I (if sought) was ready to support.
For frivolous toyes (if with true joyes compar'd)
You rebels first, then obstinate did prove,
And drunk with vanity, by pleasures snar'd,
Still (mocking mercy) did contemne my love;
Whil'st glu'd to th'earth you for no further car'd,
But how things fraile by pleasure to improve:
And working mischiefe more then words can even,
Rais'd mounts of sinne to barre your selves from heaven.

Though long ere done, your faults were knowne to me,
For which in vaine selfe-love excuses frames,
I them discern'd, but never did decree;
No time, nor place could bound the deities beames;
In contemplation of what was to be,
I from lifes books excluded had your names:
And did foresee, but not fore-doome your parts,
My mercies were more ready then your hearts.
For many wrongs which Israel had indur'd,
The Lord their safety, Pharaohs ruine sought,
As Surgeons for their practise have procur'd
An executed corps, when odious thought,
His heart (pass'd hope) of purpose was obdur'd,
That for our glory wonders might be wrought:
Thus meanes were us'd exempling such a one,
That Achab might by bloud fall from his Throne.
Your wayes were cross'd by many a stumbling block,
But you gave eare to every whispered charme,
Whil'st waving pleasures plastred ruines rock,
Where Satans ambush lay to do you harme;
Nor shall that Traitor at your judgement mock,
Who still his troups against all good did arme:
Come sprits impure, come and receive your due,
You never would repent, but now must rue.
To muse what muster every Monster makes,
I scarce for feare my fancies dare engage;
If every one a hideous bodie takes,
Vile like their minde, to tread this fatall stage:
What Gorgons, Hidras, Lynx, Chimeras, snakes,
By hissing, howling, lowing, roaring rage?
What strange aspects, what intricated sounds,
A dreadfull horrour all in one confounds?

But all such masks (poore jugling tricks) grow stale,
Though they (like Bug-beares) frighted some before,
They now themselves defend, none else assaile,
And terrour take, not give; all them abhorre,
But at this time no person can grow pale,
Since apprehensions power can move no more;
Each doubtfull thing, that day doth fully cleare,
And as first made, all creatures must appeare.
Infernall fiends now no man can affright,
For all the godly whom they oft had brav'd,
Do look upon them, comfortably bright,
As glad to thinke that they from such were sav'd;
And in the wicked anguish (at the height)
Then shows can move, hath deeper thoughts engrav'd:
So that this object all with ease can beare,
“Despaire, and confidence, both banish feare.
Yet marking them by whom so many fell,
Huge exclamations burst abruptly out;
Those vagabonds who did from God rebell,
To tempt (it seemes) still walk'd the world about,
And (bent with guests to grace their driry hell)
Made oft toss'd souls of their salvation doubt:
Who when for heaven they hunting were the way,
Turn'd headlong backward, train'd by them to stray.
Great Naturalists, of Art chiefe masters made,
By starres, and times, they could each course disclose,
And marking still when lifes first powers were spread,
What influence affections did dispose,
Or to what custome education led,
Where every heart for pleasure did repose:
They having found each inclinations square,
As best might fit the same did frame some snare.

When lustfull fancies had enflam'd the minde,
Then liberall beauties charm'd the wand'ring eye;
When to contention one was knowne inclin'd,
Occasions offred were franke wrath to try;
When Avarice did make the judgement blinde,
Straight meanes were us'd that it might never dye;
Thus did they nurse by tempting objects still,
The vice predominant that swayd the will.
This generall course (extended unto all)
Not onely did insensibly betray,
Whil'st souls for pleasure voluntar'ly thrall,
Were (by prevailing) made their enemies prey;
Some whom they did perswade, or else appall,
For feare, or gaine, did to their will give way:
Yet (heaven exchang'd for toyes which th'earth affords)
Were but deluded by ambiguous words.
Those with much passion bitterly declare
How they the devill (by him seduc'd) ador'd,
Who storm'd by sea, and thundred in the aire,
(As he affirm'd) of all the world sole Lord;
That they with him should (when dissolv'd) repaire,
Where they should be with all contentment stor'd:
Thus pointing out how they had beene abus'd,
The great accuser is by them accus'd.
But he who once durst dreame in heaven to raigne,
Whose pride prepostrous (swolne with madnesse) raves
Though that designe attempted was in vaine,
And he throwne headlong to Tartarian caves:
Loe, when at last, even ready to arraigne,
He doth not seek to purge, nor pardon craves;
Though just excuses something might acquite,
But this bursts forth with his accustom'd spite.

Since fled from heaven to pacifie your spleene,
Whose jealousies my fall could onely free,
I of your wrath a minister have beene,
To execute all what you did decree:
Thus all your ends to take effect were seene,
Whil'st still the hate reflected back on me,
To whom the world imputed every ill,
Though all my power was bounded by your will.
That excrement of th'earth, that drosse of dust,
Who wanting courage publick force to try,
Though not so stout, yet did prove as unjust,
And would have beene like thee, as well as I;
He serv'd for nothing but in thee to trust,
Yet for all this, did oft thy name deny:
He broke thy law, had power to do no more,
Yet by his fault is better than before.
From abject basenesse rais'd to such a state,
Till damn'd to die, no bounds could man containe;
Nor was his change by that decree made great,
Since, but by it whence drawne, turn'd backe againe;
Yet though these worms were still (when grac'd) ingrate,
Thou by thy suffering did'st prevent their paine;
Whom though immortall we did mortall see,
That these vile mortalls might Immortall be.
But I who was a fountaine once of light,
Whose envied beauties Angels did commend,
With those the partners of my wretched flight,
Who suffer did because they lov'd their friend;
We might have serv'd to make the heavens more bright,
In indignation whom thou mad'st descend:
And would'st not unto us one fault forgive,
Though sacrific'd, to make great sinners live.

Man (pittied thus) his pardon did procure,
That still his weakenesse might thy power admire,
Where we whose power thou no way could'st indure,
Are persecuted with an endlesse ire;
Imprison us, that thou maist live secure;
Nor will we daigne thy favour to require;
But since defrauded earst of hopes so high,
Must live in anguish since we cannot die.
But this indignity doth make me storme,
In heaven, in th'earth, in th'aire since long so great,
That this poore Creature, this detested worme,
Whom I have troad upon so oft of late,
By partiall hate both ballanc'd in one forme,
Where earst my Slave, must now become my Mate:
Yea, and reduc'd to a more base degree,
I must his Iaylour, and Tormenter be.
This hatefull monster to confusion thrall,
Was once an Angell, innocently white,
And had continu'd so but for his fall,
Whil'st pride and envy did engender spite;
The sprituall substance tainted then with gall,
(Turn'd diabolicke) was extinguish'd quite:
So that thenceforth he nought save ill could doe,
When leaving God, all goodnesse left him too.
He fell of malice, mankind was deceav'd;
That Syre of sinne to nurse it always striv'd,
And since by him that plague was first conceav'd,
Each sinne is his from whom all sinne deriv'd;
What due reward can be by him receav'd,
By whom of heaven so many were depriv'd?
Who guilty is of every mischiefe gone,
Still tempting all, yet tempted was by none.

Yet bent for mischiefe, as he first beganne,
Farre from remorse, thus sparkling poison still,
He dare contest with Christ, outrageing man,
Though barr'd from acting, yet intending ill,
And those his thoughts which rest not suffer can,
(Since obiects want where he might use his will)
Turn'd backe as furies shall himselfe afflict,
Who still on some just vengeance must inflict.
Christ first doth show how he rebell'd above,
From whence expell'd with a deserv'd disgrace,
He straight did tempt the man whom God did love,
As he had done, to make him loose his place;
Then all the meanes (that hate could hatch) did prove,
(No cause first given) to persecute his race;
Though God had told that one of them at last,
Should punish him for all offences past.
Of all his course when casting up the scroules,
They finde each moment did some harme conspire,
That (even when dying) he distress'd weake soules,
So that no end could mitigate his ire;
But Christ the same for ever now controules,
And damnes him straight to hells eternall fire:
Where with his Angels he must alwayes stay,
As long reserv'd in chaines for that great day.
This damned squadron sentenc'd thus to hell,
The godly doe applaud Christs just decree,
And his great judgment with amazement tell,
Which by effects they ravish'd are to see;
Their approbation doth content him well,
As assisters whom he admits to bee.
O what contentment do their soules imbrace,
Who now to judge the rest with him take place!

They now behold some of the wicked sort,
Who straight the worst that hell can yeeld attend,
With whose vaine pride no creature could comport,
Whil'st them for happy worldlings did commend;
Yet were their pleasures but both deare, and short,
Yea often times before themselves did end:
And by their suffrage, now they stand condemn'd,
Whom they as abject many times contemn'd.
Some now with glory eminently sit,
As Christs deare friends, though here of humble race,
Whom they had scorn'd for fellowes to admit,
Or at their Table to have taken place;
Yea, would have thought it for their state not fit,
Them with a signe of least regard to grace:
Yet (marking them so highly honour'd) now
They would be glad still at their feet to bow.
But this distresse one vantage doth unfold,
Though out of time, when it can help no more,
They heare the truth, and all their faults are told,
Which had been still estrang'd from them before,
Whil'st awfull reverence dutious love controul'd,
So that what they affirm'd, their followers swore,
Whom now they blame, that they so base could be,
As bent to please, not daring to be free.
The reprobate (as obstinately ill)
Expostulating blasphemy doe use,
And with their crimes would burden others still,
Not to be clear'd, but that they may accuse;
Not onely doe they taxe Gods spotlesse will,
And Satans fraud, for what it did infuse:
But likewise men as meanes that they were lost,
And of all men they blame their Parents most.

Their whole endeavours every Parent strains,
By fortunes treasures to advance his heirs,
Who many times do loose by guilty gains,
Not (as was hop'd) true helps, but onely snares;
But few advis'dly do respect the pains
Which leade to vertue, and religious cares:
Such fondly are in breeding of their brood,
For goods too carefull, carelesse of their good.
Yet, oft they faile even in that temporall end,
Who seeke by riches to secure their race,
Which by their death doth it at last attend,
And long-sought conquests waste in little space;
Where indigence, and education bend,
Some left more poore, each way for wealth do trace,
Which oftentimes, the Syres damnations price,
But strengneth his that they may follow vice.
Nor is this glistring course the safest way,
By which to stand, one stablish may a state,
Since it oft times the owner doth betray,
To vice and envy, an inviting baite,
So that they thus are tempted more to stray,
Or are o'rethrowne by some mans hopefull hate:
Thus riches swolne with pride, is crush'd by spite,
Or doth (made soft) dissolve the owner quite.
Some foolish fathers with prepostrous love,
(To flattring children too indulgent still)
Even by their favour pestilent doe prove,
Like toying Apes that doe with kindnesse kill,
Who whil'st they them should by their judgement move,
Are carried head-long with the others will:
And must their griefe by any meanes appease,
Not striving to instruct, but how to please.

Their off-springs course, each parent should direct,
And as a patterne by example lead;
Then when they faile in yeelding due respect,
As insolent by too much favour made,
They should rebuke, reforme, and last correct;
For, better then whil'st quicke, to waile them dead:
Who would preserve, must many times annoy,
Where those that dote by sparing doe destroy.
Amongst the rest, some here their moane doe make,
Whom parents strictnesse did from good restraine,
That of their state would no compassion take,
Nor lend the meanes that might their life maintaine;
But (as their coyne) did keep their count'nance backe
For wretchednesse, yet other grounds did faine:
By which in children such ill thoughts were bred,
That they to mischiefe easily were led.
What gallants thus did perish in their prime,
By desp'rate wayes whil'st ventring for reliefe,
And prov'd (though little might have help'd in time)
A bloudy murtherer, or an abject Thiefe;
Till at the last damn'd for some filthie crime,
As venging this, they forc'd their fathers griefe:
(With infamy when com'd to end their race)
Whil'st left an heire unto his heires disgrace?
And many thus dispers'd in forraine parts,
Have sold their souls that they their lives might save,
Who (whil'st by want) expos'd to all mens arts,
When they by ruine onely help could have,
Against their knowledge, and against their hearts,
In spite of conscience, did Religion leave:
And would (though first asham'd) at last grown strong,
Ere scorn'd for changing, justifie a wrong.

O, what contentment shall those Parents finde!
Who for all those whom to the world they bring,
Still mildly rigorous, and austerely kinde,
(Excesses barr'd) do seek each needfull thing,
And do plant early in the tender minde,
The love of God, whose praise at last they sing.
All those with Christ thrice happy now do stand,
Who thus did strive how to increase that band.
Great Magistrates by sundry are accus'd,
For feare, for love, for gaine, or some such end,
Who had that power due by their charge not us'd,
To purge the Land of them who did offend;
Who (when by pardons having them excus'd)
Their faults (as favour'd) seem'd to recommend:
There where examples should with terrour strike,
This did tempt others to attempt the like.
When insolency kills, or doth oppresse,
Those guilty are of each ensuing harme,
Who curbe them not who do the laws transgresse,
Ere indignation generous courage warme;
When parties wrong'd must needs themselves redresse,
Whil'st lack of justice doth them justly arme:
As bound by credit vengeance to procure,
The braving object scorning to endure.
When great offendors Iustice not removes,
And chiefly them by whom to death one bleeds,
Since, given to broils, such persons no man loves,
And each occasion still more mischiefe breeds;
Their safety many a time their ruine proves:
For Malefactors whil'st that their misdeeds
Repentance expiats, made happy so,
Do (as from Beds) to heaven from Scaffolds go.

Thus in like sort they blame some Masters now,
Who them with whom they had by power prevail'd,
Not unto God, but to themselves made bow,
If not to them, not caring how they fail'd;
And did sometimes command, at least allow
Those faults whose fruits to profit them avail'd;
Such soules as pretious should have been preserv'd,
Who were Gods creatures, though that them they serv'd.
But thousands here with anguish curse all those,
Who had in charge their safety to procure,
Yet did their course to fit the time compose,
And errours grosse most grosly did endure;
So that their flocke, when falling never rose,
But suff'red were to live in sinne secure:
And they to heaven could hardly others leade,
Whose selves to court the world all means had made.
Since Robbers are abhorr'd (as beasts prophane)
Who steale but stones which to the Church belong;
Pretended Priests that sprituall states attaine,
Like waspes with Bees, crept holy hives among,
Who wasting honey, poyson give againe;
Are (as farre worse) accus'd for doing wrong;
Since they barre others from ministring grace,
Yet (save in coats and rents) not use the place.
Some who (their hearers swaying where they would)
Could force affections, comfort, and deject,
With learned Lectures eloquently told,
(Though flourish'd faire, not fruitfull in effect)
Are highly tax'd, that they (when thus extold)
What taught to others, did themselves neglect:
And given to vice (brought comparatively in)
They lost that freedome which rebukes for sinne.

And how can any man another move
To flye those dainties that with him are rife,
Who talke of Temperance, yet vaine pleasures love,
Call peace a blessing, whil'st they live at strife,
Praise deeds of Almes, yet avaritious prove,
Chast but in words, not continent in life?
Of such th'excellency is all in Art,
Whil'st vertue but their tongue, vice hath the heart.
Such (following Cains way) like Core exclaime,
By Balaams wages, to deceit inclin'd;
Seas raging waves, still foaming forth their shame,
Clouds void of water, carried with the wind,
Trees without fruit, spots which the faith defame,
As wandring starres whose course hath them design'd:
Of such did Enoch prophesy of old,
That which this judgement doth at last unfold.
Those stumbling blockes, rockes which with ruine swell,
Destructions traynes, obnoxious unto all,
Not onely with the rest, are damn'd to hell,
Whose threatned torments quaking soules appall,
But railing at them many thousands tell,
How they had beene the meanes to make them fall:
“This wretched comfort, the afflicted love,
“That for their faults, they others may reprove.
But though they thus to make their faults seem lesse,
The Lord himselfe, the divels and men doe blame,
All doth afford no helpe for their distresse,
Nor workes it pitty, but augments their shame:
Like anguish doth their fellow-partners presse,
And others doe with shouts their joyes proclaime:
Thus quite neglected in a desp'rate state,
They by contesting, but procure more hate.

As some (by sentence when condemn'd to dye)
By gazing troupes and friends, hemm'd round about,
The executioner attending by,
The Coffin gaping, and the hatchet out,
Th'earth sometimes view, looke sometimes to the sky,
And loth to leave them, doe pretend some doubt:
Which they must cleare, as which concernes their crime,
So glad to gaine some space from posting time.
The wicked thus (it seemes) could wish to stay,
The full performance of Christs great decree,
As loth to leave this (though most fearefull) day,
The last of light that they shall ever see;
The eyes deare objects vanish must away;
No prospect more for them can pleasant be:
No wonder though they seeke to shift a space,
Their dreadfull entry to that driry place.
But such delayes can yeeld their soules no ease,
Who rack'd by conscience, inwardly doe smart;
Save all to suffer, not what to appease,
No other thought can harbour in their heart;
That glorious face which doth the godly please,
To them strange feares with horrour doth impart:
So that their present paine hath so much force,
They scarce imagine any can be worse.
Those who were swift to sinne, to goodnesse slow,
And onely striv'd in folly to exceed,
O! when they finde that which they justly owe,
The endlesse paines which ended joyes doe breed!
They, as they alwaies liv'd like beasts below,
Would gladly now that they were beasts indeed:
To scape the hell whose horrours then are seene,
Who wish their being never to have beene.

When looking backe how traines of treach'rous houres
(As Mines) at unawares had blowne up all,
And blasted oft (ere ripe) fraile pleasures flowres,
Whose time hath beene so short, whose joy so small;
They wonder now how they could spend their pow'rs,
In gayning toyes to such a tyrant thrall,
Which hath them made that happinesse to misse,
Where still eternity abounds in blisse.
All longing mindes for what they much require,
The time appointed, when they doe attend,
Doe wish the space betweene, should straight expire,
And so the like to have some other end;
By giving way to mans infirme desire,
His course contract'd few moments thus would spend:
And thus to gaine some flying fortunes soone,
His life by what he wish'd would be undone.
The loving youth whose brest with thoughts doth burne,
Would lose whole yeares to have one nights delight;
The Merchant waiting for his Shippes returne,
Not onely dayes, but winds as slow doth cite;
The greedy Usurer, so to serve his turne,
(Save Termes for payment) all dayes else would quite:
Since these for pleasure lavish are of life,
What would they doe, whose miseries are rife?
But whil'st too late, the wicked count their dayes,
Which (ere they wakened) vanish like a dreame,
(So to remove the meanes of all delayes)
Their sentence given, an Angell doth proclaime,
The which with feare each count'nance quite dismayes,
And they in darkenesse haste to hide their shame:
From this sad sentence, backe to the Stygian state,
What horrid clamour sounds the last retreat.

If for affaires which mutuall good impart,
A little way till some few houres be runne,
Kinde wives and husbands, doe but chance to part,
A friend from friend, a mother from her sonne,
So sensibly with tender thoughts all smart,
That love is glad to have some moments wonne:
“Priz'd by privations, beings are held deare,
“And presence pretious absence makes appeare.
O blacke divorce, even worse then thoughts can faine!
Griefe past expressing, losse above all bounds,
They now must part who never meet againe,
And straight to goe where horrour most abounds,
From sight of pleasure ravish'd unto paine,
No wonder though they howle forth dolorous sounds:
Who must this cheerefull light with darkenesse change,
Saints joyes first seene, to make their state more strange.
'Twixt Parents, Brethren, Sisters, kindred, friends,
And all those bands which mortals held most deare;
The naturall love (worne out of date) quite ends,
Eternally whil'st separated here;
That strict regard which tender passion bends,
None of the godly now can make draw neere
To any one of those whom damn'd they see,
Though ty'd by nature in the first degree.
The beds deare partners here, each fortunes mate,
Who once (hearts joy) sunke in the bosome slept;
Some dandled children, doted on of late,
Whom with such care too tender Parents kept;
Companions earst who swayd the mindes conceit,
All now are left, and they no teare have wept:
Who praise Gods judgement which this parting wrought:
His love hath swallow'd up each other thought.

But by this meanes the reprobate are mov'd,
To apprehend their misery the more,
Whil'st forc'd to leave them whom so much they lov'd,
Who having seen their happinesse before,
And having heard their losse by them approv'd,
Who once had wish'd them well, but then abhor:
This grieves their soule, till they for anguish groane,
And though to hell, are earnest to be gone.
Whil'st stormy conscience holds invective bookes,
That th'inward sight can onely reade of ire,
O! how doe heavy eyes with lingring lookes,
From worlds last prospects languishing retire?
A windy cloud of sighes, each mouth forth smoakes,
As burning, even ere entring the fire:
They are not blinde, yet better so to be,
Since heaven, nor earth, they never more shall see.
he raging fiends all girt with foaming snakes,
Doe haste them downe together with their charge,
Whereas no Porter any hindrance makes,
They passe hels deeps, attending on no Barge;
This thronging troup at dreadfull earth-quakes quakes,
Whil'st gaping gulphes doe make an entry large:
All looking backe as loth to leave the light,
Are at an instant swallow'd out of sight.


William Alexander