Classic Poem

And sith twixt you is such proximitie,
That thou do'st throughly taste the smart he feeles,
Ile turne my speech a while alone to thee,
To comfort thee with ioy which Faith reueales:
And though thou now triumph in endlesse ioy,
This might be sed to thee in thine annoy.

Thine Eies that see (engulpht in seas of Tears)
Griefes Obiects greater than they are indeed,
Dissolue in Brine to season so thy Cares,
That Sorrow may thereon with pleasure feed:
" When Sorrows swellings burst out of the Eies,
" The Heart doth hold to giue them fresh supplies

Thine Eares beleeue all Sounds (how sweet soere)
Are but the Accents of a Tragicke voyce;
The Angels Notes doe seeme but parts to beare
In the Confusion of an irkesome noyse:
" For when the Body is without the Head,
" What Musicke makes the Trunke but dull, or dead.

The Ecchoes of thy Plaints doe seeme to thee
The mournfull cries of Riuers, Rockes, and Hills;
As though their Maker them had made to be
True feelers of his Paines, thy Griefs, their Ills:
" For, when as Natures God feeles violence,
" Nature makes nought that hath not feeling sense!

Each glimpse of Ioy to thee is like the Spoiles
Of some rich kingdome to her conquer'd Prince;
Which are the markes of her recurelesse foiles,
And, without warre, his warring Thoughts conuince:
" For, others mirth doth then become our mone,
" When they make merrie with our losse alone

What ere delights the Eare then renouates
The woefull want of thy Sonnes sugred Words;
For, Angels voice but recapitulates
The misse of That which sweeter voice affoords:
" And to be minded of the losse of Ioy
" Doth make vs find, in old losse, new annoy.

As Loue (that highly prizeth pricelesse Things)
Trebles the price of those of highest rate;
So, Reason and Iudgement (Faiths almightie Wings)
Lifting thy Soule to see thy high estate,
Makes his Crosse thy Crosse-Crosse-let (treble crost)
Because so well thou know'st what thou hast lost

And all the Sweetes thy Senses apprehend,
Are but as Crummes of thy late royall cheere;
Which thy erst full-fed Soule doe but offend,
And make thy Looke more hunger-pin'd appeare:
" The Pallat vs'd to ful-disht daintie Cates,
" The homely crumms of course Crusts deadly hates.

Worlds-glorie is to thee a Lightnings flame,
Which doth but light to see calamitie:
For, out it goes when it hath show'd the same,
And Hell doth leaue behind, t'affront the Eie:
For, Glorie, in his Grace, did so excell,
That Heau'n with it compar'd is worse than Hel.

For, killing in his owne Life-giuing Death
The sacred life of liues; it doth ensue
All liuing Things died, with his yeelding breath;
So made Death victor, and did Death subdue!
" But, by Death to subdue Lifes conquering Foe,
" Is Life in Death though Flesh, and Blood say no.

No, no, sai'st Thou (deere Saint) as Flesh thou art,
Whose Blood doth boile, in passion, for thy losse:
For, through his Death thy Life feeles mortall smart;
So, his Crosse, Tree of Life, is thy Lifes Crosse:
" For, Grace, and Nature beeing opposite,
" Doth breed an endlesse 'bate twixt Flesh and Sp'rite,

When Faith doth Reason into Loue transmute,
Then Faith, through Loue, surmounteth Reasons reach:
And scornes with Flesh and Blood once to dispute:
But in the Metaphysicks Reas'n doth teach:
Yet now thy Faith, and Loue, and Reas'n conspire
To reaue thy rest in quest of thy desire.

Thy Loue by treason of the miseries,
Engulphs thy Memorie in griefe so deepe,
That thou forgett'st thy fore-past promises,
Remembring but (thy hearts ease) still, to weepe;
" For, when hearts-ease doth from the heart depart
" Nature enforceth Teares to ease the Heart

But yet the inward presence of thy Sonne,
His outward absence (deere Saint) may supply:
Who from thy Wombe into thy heart is gone,
That thou mai'st feele him much more vitally:
Then, in thy Heart (which Sorrowes Sword doth wound)
He makes his Tent, to Tent and make it sound.

But, if thou feel'st not yet this Lord of Life
Stirre in that liueli'st feeling part of Thee,
It is sith Passions there are yet in strife,
Sprung from his Passions which Perfections be:
But kept he not the peace in so great strife,
No, force of Nature could maintaine thy life.

Thy Teares doe (quenching) feed the sacred fire
That Natures Lead transmutes to Graces Gold:
Zeale blowes the coles of thy diuine desire
To haue (as earst thou had'st) thy Sonne in hold:
But since thou hast him in thy better Part,
As sure thou hast him, as thy Soule, or Heart

Yet, for his sight thy thirst is so extreame
(The Ocean of which comfort swels so high)
That though into thy Parts the Whole should streame,
Yet could it not their sore Thirst satisfie:
" For, that which is belou'd, without annoy,
" The Senses seuerally would still enjoy

Then hauing Him but in thy Heart, thy Heart
Hath so much Sorrow, with that boundlesse blisse,
That Grace, by Nature, is perplexed in part;
So the whole Heart thereby perplexed is:
" For, till Flesh puts on immortalitie,
" It cannot shake off Natures Qualitie.

Yet wert thou by his mouth forbid to weep,
Whose Biddings and Forbiddings are such Lawes,
As all are bound religiously to keepe,
Sith, to infringe them, doth perdition cause:
And sith the vnion twixt you Two is such,
Thy weeping for thy selfe himselfe doth touch.

Tooke he not Flesh of Thee: then is the same
Thine, by the law of Nature, which is His:
For, Nature neerer vnion cannot frame,
Which makes thine Eies to fashion Teares amisse:
And, sith true Loue doth make you most intire,
Then must thy Teares fall crosse to his desire

But yet thou saist, but for thy Selfe thou weep'st,
When thou weep'st for Him, beeing one with Thee:
And so thou ween'st his holy Heast thou keep'st,
Who, for thy selfe to weepe, gaue libertie:
Nay, rather gaue command, which to transgress
Must be most damnable or little lesse.

The fault therefore, herein, (if any be)
Must be (thou ween'st) in beeing one with Him:
Which Sinne, thou sai'st, proceedes of Grace in Thee;
Both which, in both thine Eies, thou mak'st to swimme
Out of Election; so, presumptuously
Thou sinnest thus by Graces regencie.

For, if the Sunne in Sable him inuolu'd
When Lights inlight'ner quencht was in his Blood;
If Natures frame was like to be dissolu'd,
To see her Maker marr'd in likelihood:
Then O! who cannot weepe for such a losse,
His heart's more hard than (heart of oake) the Crosse.

Thine Heart, and Eies (for, both alike doe moue,
Sith Heart and Lookes are one in Deed, and Show)
Doe pay him Tribute of religious Loue,
Which He hath paid, and thou to Him do'st owe:
For, what He paid thou ow'st by double Band
Which Grace, and Nature sealeth with thy Hand.

This dew of Grace here falls, but straight the Sunne
Of Iustice doth exhale It to his Spheare:
And if the fowlest face It ouer-runne,
In Mercies Eies It makes It Christall cleare:
For Eies that so oreflowe, are Wels of Grace,
Wherein God loues to looke, to see his face!

For this Imperiall Water thy poore Heart
The lymbecke is, to Styll it through thine Eies;
From Hearbe of Grace (call'd Rue) by Sorrowes Art;
And, made, by quenchlesse flames of Loue, to rise:
Wherein the Angels loue themselues to plunge,
And ioy to draine these drops becomes the Spunge.

Vpon the water-streames, with winds of strife,
Thy Soule doth saile vnto the Port of Peace:
To raigne for euer in the Land of Life,
With him for whom these Surges neuer cease:
For sith these Waues doe whaft from Sinne to Grace,
From Grace to Glorie then, they passe apace

Thy Sunne is set, and at his going downe,
These brackish Seas did rise to meete his fall;
That Tethis of thy true loue, to thine owne,
In her moist Lap receiues this Light of all:
But sith thou know'st, by Nature, he must rise
Let Grace with comfort cleere thy cloudy Eies.

No doubt thou would'st (by force of that strong Tie)
Ensue his Steps, though glutted with his Gore:
And could'st a Death, with Hels of Torment, die,
So thou might'st liue with Him, that dies no more:
" Then to be barr'd of what Loue doth desire,
" Turnes Loue to Langor, and her frost to fire.

How liuely were that Death, whose deadest Meane
The dead'st Cadauer , with a Touch, reuiues:
And makes immaculate Soules most vncleane,
Beeing Death of Deaths that giueth life of liues:
" And honnied were the death of such a life,
" Where Sinne and Grace are still at mortall strife.

For thou yet liu'st as many Deathes to feele
As thou liu'st howres; and, no lesse griefe to taste
Then was thy welfare in his onely weale;
Which, beeing extreame, then extreame woe thou hast:
But, cheere thee (Saint) sith nought, so violent
Can (though it perfect were) be permanent

Liue out thy liuing Death then, in such peace,
As to thy dying life may yeeld repose;
Let woes encrease, past, present ioyes encrease;
For, they doe winne, at length, that long doe lose:
" And when as griefe's enthron'd in greatest grace
" Then downe it must, and Ioy possesse her place

And though thy Soule liues more by force, then choise
Within thy dying Corps, her liuing Tombe,
Yet, beeing there interr'd, she may reioyce
It did, and doth both God and her enwombe:
Then O how blessed is that Earth of Thine,
That to such Sp'rites of life doth still enshrine!

That Sepulcher of Death, and Seate of Life
Thy blissfull-blislesse-blessed Body, O
I want fit words (while Words are all at strife,)
Thy Bodies ten-times blessed state to show:
For that stanch Chest those pretious Iewels keepes
That keepe the Chest secure in Dolors Deeps.

Then melt not, O melt not thy Heart away
In flames of Loue, but liue to loue him still:
For, if thou heartlesse be, where shall he staie?
And if thou kill'st thy heart, thou his do'st kill:
For, thine is His, then for Him tender It
With loue that is, for lasting, onely fit.

Thou think'st (perhaps) so well he loueth Thee,
That if thy Soule for that deere loue should die,
He would giue Thee his Soule, thy Soule to be,
Sith Soulelesse, now, his Body, yet, doth lie:
But sith from Death to Life he will remoue,
He His must vse; then keep Thine for his loue.

Thou canst not feare his losse that all reliues
For, ardent loue quite kills the Ague Feare:
He can reuiue himselfe, that All reuiues;
And can make All as if they neuer were:
Then sith Faith holds, he is omnipotent,
Hold thee, by Faith almightily content.

Let those whose Faith begins but now to sprout,
Or senslesse things that feele the force he felt,
Themselues vnto their Makers fortune sute,
While their kind Bowels, in compassion, melt:
But be thou ioyfull, as thou faithfull art,
" Sith Faith sucks comfort out of holy smart.

The Place that held him, earst, thou held'st an Heau'n;
The Time thou him enioy'dst, a merrie Maie:
Comforts diuine, the duties to him giu'n;
The Aire wherein he breath'd, eternall Day:
If these seem'd thus, whiles yet he liu'd to die,
What are they now he liues immortally?

Then let not Feare doubt more than Faith confirme,
Sith doubts are Grounds for Griefe to descant on:
And each mishap our hopes doe make infirme;
Though It we meete not, with Suspition:
" To force our friendship on a mortall foe,
" Makes Folly triumph in our ouerthro.

But, Loue that hath in Feares, and Hopes no measure,
The more It longs her Obiect to possesse,
The more it doubts thereof, the dire displeasure;
And beeing disseis'd thereof, doth hope the lesse:
But O this Loue is humane, not diuine,
For Faith will not let Feare true loue decline.
Christ , to thy longing-loue, is as the Riuer
Vnto the chased Hart, which still he seekes;
And as Men thirstie, mind but moysture euer,
So loue doth thinke on nought, but what it likes:
If that Bee not, It seekes no more to Bee,
But Beeing, It would Be That, bond, or free.

Loue cannot liue without her Obiect long,
Sith shee then (longing;) liues a dying life:
Who weenes her Right, then, to her offers wrong
As doth the Husband that forsakes his Wife:
" For in our deeds, which Reason might reproue
" We scape vnshent, if they were done in loue.

While loue doth lacke the oyle that makes it flame
It is all Eare, or Eie, to heare, or see
Who can bewraie, or where abides the same,
That there she may in Ioy, or Sorrow be:
And listens vnto Newes with longing-heed,
In hope thereby to find her longings meed.

If It be good, shee hopes it's without peere;
If bad it be, shee feares it's worse than ill:
But be it good or bad, shee it must heare,
Although the ioy or sorrow her may kill:
" Desire doth neuer rest till that be had,
" Which, like to that Desire, is good or bad.

Clothe him with Diamonds that quakes for cold,
Or cramme his purse with crownes that's hunger-pin'd:
That , for a freeze Gowne giue his Iewels would,
This , all his Crownes for Crusts of coarsest kind,
" As each supplie supplies not each defect,
" So, nought contents Desire, but his Elect.

They that haue most, are held most rich to be;
And they that haue their wish, held most to haue:
Then, as in Him is all that's wisht of thee,
So Hee's the Summe of all that thou canst craue:
" It is the greatest gaine that can be made,
" To get eternall good for goods that fade.

But rest these Thoughts which Thee of rest depriue
In Paradise where he (thou know'st) doth rest;
For there, he said, the Theefe should, with him liue.
That day that he of life was dispossest:
" Then, when the life of Loue is dead to Griefe,
" And liues to Ioy, Ioy is dead Loues reliefe.

Hee, for vs, captiu'd our captiuitie;
And, what is that but death, the due of Sinne?
Which now he triumphs ore, in victorie,
That we might still reioyce, not grieue, therein:
" When Griefe is slaine, it is a wrong to Ioy
" Our Powres, in Sorrowes seruice to imploy.

Yet greater cause of griefe Griefe cannot giue:
But greater cause of ioy, Ioy cannot yeeld:
Griefe, Ioy resists, and Ioy, with Griefe, doth striue;
Thus, twixt these two, still doubtfull is the field:
But Ioy, at last, (as true Griefe doth presage)
Shall Victor be and no more Battell wage.

For, this is He (who though thus skarrified,
Tormented, slaughtred, and thus vilipended:
That is, indeed, the first Man deified,
Whom Men-of-God, as God, to Men commended:
To Him the Prophets gaue this Testimonie,
That He should Liue, as Man to die for Many:

His Skinne, the Whips; his Flesh, Thornes made vnsound;
The Nailes, his Nerues; the cruell Speare, his Heart:
Sharp Woes, his Soule; Gods wrath, his Mind did wound;
So, wounded was, in all and eu'ry Part!
Thus, his Soules Soule was sacrifiz'd for Sinne,
That so our Soules might, their lost glory, winne.

His hand of Pow'r, at first did sigulate
The Belsire of Mans most vnconstant kind;
And shall those Hands, that Hand did figurate,
This Hand almightie by their frailtie bind?
No; no (alas) the Scepter's in that Hand.
That doth both Heau'n and Hell, of right, command!

Hee like the glorious, rare Arabian Bird,
Will soone result from his incinderment,
(Which flaming Loue, and Charitie had fir'd)
Of sole selfe-pow'r, and owne arbitrement:
And though his Toyles be (Silke-worme like) his Tombe,
Yet shall his actiue Spirite his Flesh vntombe!

Diuinely then, with Triumph Caesared ,
He shall reblesse Thee with ten Thousand Blisses;
Whereby thy Soule shall aie be rauished
With many millions of sweet Comforts kisses!
Whose Sweetes shall be so super-naturall,
That they, perforce, thy Cares shall cordial.

Then cheere thee sacred Virgin, mourne no more:
The worst is past, the best is now to come:
Thy blessed Wombe, his blessed Body bore,
To die accurst, for which, He blest thy Wombe:
The Curse we caus'd, for which, He Death indures
Then mourne no more, but let the Griefe be Ours.

Fraile-Fleshes signiorizing Tyrant, fell,
(Vsurping Monarchie in her Effects
Stearne Hydra-headed SINNE, with Death, and Hell)
He by his Death, to free our Flesh, subiects:
Then let Lifes Death, that Lifes Death doth reliue,
Kill thy quicke woes, and thy dead ioyes reuiue.

Serene thy Woe-adumbred Front, sweet Saint;
Let Ioy transluce thy Beauties blandishment:
Thy Sonne feeles not (for Death is Sence restraint)
Yet sees, though dead, thy liuing languishment:
Which well he wots (though it of Loue proceed)
Auailes Him not, nor mends His Killers Creed.

Thou know'st thy charge, thy Master thee impos'd,
Sacred Euangelist, His Soules deere Loue;
To thee her Sonne as to her Sonne dispos'd;
O then discharge thy charge, for her behoue:
And like a Sonne, yeeld her sad Heart reliefe
With words that flow from fellow-feeling griefe.

Come, come, O Ioseph Nichodemus come,
Make haste, post haste, to take his Body downe:
He yet craues pitty, though He yet be dumbe:
Yet, by your ruth, your loue may yet be showne:
Though feare of Men, did make ye God forsake,
Yet God, sith ye are Men, will mercie take.

You did none other than his Minions did,
Whom, of base Groomes, his Grace did Minionize
Yet, in his Troubles all their Heads they hid,
And left him for their Sinnes a Sacrifice:
Yet sith his Armes are spread, them to embrace
Ye may be sure Hee'l take you too to grace.

Then sith in loue, ye haue obtained leaue
To take him downe that, humbled, so was raised,
Then downe retake him, and withall beleeue,
He shall (in Heau'n remounted) aie be praised:
Vp with your Scala-Caeli to the Tree,
To take downe Heau'n; for, Heau'n of Heau'ns is Hee!