Classic Poem

A HYMN
TO
THE NAME AND HONOR
OF
THE ADMIRABLE
SAINTE
TERESA,
FOUNDRESSE
of the Reformation of the Discalced
CARMELITES , both
men and Women;
A
WOMAN
for Angelicall heigth of speculation, for
Masculine courage of performance,
more then a woman.
WHO
Yet a child, out ran maturity, and
durst plott a Martyrdome;

THE HYMNE .

Love, thou art Absolute sole lord
O F Life and D EATH . To prove the word,
Wee'l now appeal to none of all
Those thy old Souldiers, Great and tall,
Ripe Men of Martyrdom, that could reach down
With strong armes, their triumphant crown,
Such as could with lusty breath
Speak lowd into the face of death
Their Great L ORD 's glorious name; to none
Of those whose spatious Bosomes spread a throne
For Love at larg to fill: spare blood and sweat;
And see him take a private seat,
Making his mansion in the mild
And milky soul of a soft child.
Scarse has she learn't to lisp the name
Of Martyr; yet she thinks it shame
Life should so long play with that breath
Which spent can buy so brave a death.
She never undertook to know
What death with love should have to doe;
Nor has she e're yet understood
Why to show love, she should shed blood
Yet though she cannot tell you why,
She can Love , and she can D Y .
Scarse has she Blood enough to make
A guilty sword blush for her sake;
Yet has she'a H EART dares hope to prove
How much lesse strong is D EATH then Love .
Be love but there; let poor six yeares
Be pos'd with the maturest Feares
Man trembles at, you straight shall find
Love knowes no nonage, nor the M IND .
'Tis Love , not Y EARES or L IMBS that can
Make the Martyr, or the man.
Love touch't her H EART , and lo it beates
High, and burnes with such brave heates;
Such thirsts to dy, as dares drink up,
A thousand cold deaths in one cup.
Good reason. For she breathes All fire.
Her weake brest heaves with strong desire
Of what she may with fruitles wishes
Seek for amongst her M OTHER 's kisses.
Since 'tis not to be had at home
She'l travail to a Martyrdom.
No home for her confesses she
But where she may a Martyr be.
She'l to the Moores; And trade with them,
For this unvalued Diadem.
She'l offer them her dearest Breath,
With C HRIST 's Name in't, in change for death.
She'l bargain with them; and will give
Them G OD ; and teach them how to live
In him: or, if they this deny,
For him she'l teach them how to D Y .
So shall she leave amongst them sown
Her L ORD 's Blood; or at lest her own.
F AREWEL then, all the world! Adieu.
T ERESA is no more for you.
Farewell, all pleasures, sports, and joyes,
(Never till now esteemed toyes)
Farewell what ever deare may bee,
M OTHER 's armes or F ATHER 's knee
Farewell house, and farewell home!
S HE 's for the Moores, and M ARTYRDOM .
S WEET , not so fast! lo thy fair Spouse
Whom thou seekst with so swift vowes,
Calls thee back, and bidds thee come
T'embrace a milder M ARTYRDOM .
Blest powres forbid, Thy tender life
Should bleed upon a barborous knife;
Or some base hand have power to race
Thy Brest's chast cabinet, and uncase
A soul kept there so sweet, o no;
Wise heavn will never have it so.
T HOU art love's victime; and must dy
A death more mysticall and high.
Into love's armes thou shalt let fall
A still-surviving funerall.
His is the D ART must make the D EATH
Whose stroke shall tast thy hallow'd breath;
A Dart thrice dip't in that rich flame
Which writes thy spouse's radiant Name
Upon the roof of Heav'n; where ay
It shines, and with a soveraign ray
Beates bright upon the burning faces
Of soules which in that name's sweet graces
Find everlasting smiles. So rare,
So spirituall, pure, and fair
Must be th'immortall instrument
Upon whose choice point shall be sent
A life so lov'd; And that there be
Fitt executioners for Thee,
The fair'st and first-born sons of fire
Blest S ERAPHIM , shall leave their quire
And turn love's souldiers, upon T HEE
To exercise their archerie.
O how oft shalt thou complain
Of a sweet and subtle P AIN .
Of intolerable J OYES ;
Of a D EATH , in which who dyes
Loves his death, and dyes again.
And would for ever so be slain.
And lives, and dyes; and knowes not why
To live, But that he thus may never leave to D Y .
How kindly will thy gentle H EART
Kisse the sweetly-killing D ART !
And close in his embraces keep
Those delicious Wounds, that weep
Balsom to heal themselves with. Thus
When These thy D EATHS , so numerous,
Shall all at last dy into one,
And melt thy Soul's sweet mansion;
Like a soft lump of incense, hasted
By too hott a fire, and wasted
Into perfuming clouds, so fast
Shalt thou exhale to Heavn at last
In a resolving S IGH , and then —
O what? Ask not the Tongues of men,
Angells cannot tell: suffice,
Thy selfe shall feel thine own full joyes
And hold them fast for ever. There
So soon as thou shalt first appear,
The M OON of maiden starrs, thy white
M ISTRESSE , attended by such bright
Soules as thy shining self, shall come
And in her first rankes make thee room;
Where 'mongst her snowy family
Immortall wellcomes wait for thee.
O what delight, when reveal'd Life shall stand
And teach thy lipps heav'n with his hand;
On which thou now maist to thy wishes
Heap up thy consecrated kisses.
What joyes shall seize thy soul, when she
Bending her blessed eyes on thee
(Those second Smiles of Heav'n) shall dart
Her mild rayes through thy melting heart!
Angels, thy old friends, there shall greet thee
Glad at their own home now to meet thee.
All thy good W ORKES which went before
And waited for thee, at the door,
Shall own thee there; and all in one
Weave a constellation
Of Crowns , with which the K ING thy spouse
Shall build up thy triumphant browes.
All thy old woes shall now smile on thee
And thy paines sitt bright upon thee
All thy sorrows here shall shine,
All thy S UFFRINGS be divine.
T EARES shall take comfort, and turn gemms
And W RONGS repent to Diademms.
Ev'n thy D EATHS shall live; and new
Dresse the soul that erst they slew.
Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scarres
As keep account of the L AMB 's warres.
Those rare W ORKES where thou shalt leave writt
Love's noble history, with witt
Taught thee by none but him, while here
They feed our soules, shall cloth T HINE there.
Each heavnly word by whose hid flame
Our hard Hearts shall strike fire, the same
Shall flourish on thy browes. and be
Both fire to us and flame to thee;
Whose light shall live bright in thy F ACE
By glory, in our hearts by grace.
Thou shalt look round about, and see
Thousands of crown'd Soules throng to be
Themselves thy crown. Sons of thy vowes,
The virgin-births with which thy soveraign spouse
Made fruitfull thy fair soul, goe now
And with them all about thee bow
To Him, put on (hee'l say) put on
(My rosy love) That thy rich zone
Sparkling with the sacred flames
Of thousand soules, whose happy names
Heav'n keeps upon thy score. (Thy bright
Life brought them first to kisse the light
That kindled them to starrs.) and so
Thou with the L AMB , thy lord, shalt goe;
And whereso'ere he setts his white
Stepps, walk with H IM those wayes of light
Which who in death would live to see,
Must learn in life to dy like thee.