Classic Poem

NOW hath the great CREATOR, for Mans sake,
The second Adam cast into a sleepe;
Whiles of his Heart-blood Hee his Spouse doth make;
For whom His Heart doth Blood, and Water weepe:
Which compound Teares are turn'd to Ioy, intire,
For his Heart-blood effects his Hearts desire!

Which deere desire, was one deere Spouse to haue,
To be co-partner of his Griefes and Ioyes;
Which when he wooke, his God vnto him gaue
To comfort him in comforts, and annoies:
Which when he saw, He held (most faire to see!)
Flesh, of his Flesh, Bone, of his Bones to be!

Now hath the Monster Flesh-deuouring Death
Got him within his Bowels; but (though dead)
Looke how a woman, groaning, languisheth
In Child-birth till shee be deliuered,
So groaneth Death, who trauelleth in paine,
Till of his charge he be discharg'd againe.

And as the Babylonian Dragon brake
So soone as Daniels Lumpes his Mouth had fill'd;
So, Death, that of Lifes Lord a Meale did make,
In sunder brake, and vtterly was spild:
His Mawe could not digest that blessed Bit,
Made most immortall by his eating it.

Nor could he vomit vp this Bread of Life,
Which (Poyson-like, while it in him abides)
Had with his nature such vncessant strife,
That it brake forth the next way through his sides:
Sending celestiall Beames, not to the skie,
But to the Throne of highest diuinitie

Nor could He (as some Beasts rechew their meat,
To cause the same the better to disgest)
Rechew this Bread, so fast, and so compleat
Made by his chewing, that it now must rest
As free from Passion, as from violence,
Garded with Powre, and Glories excellence.

O! that all Spirits of high Intelligence,
(By royall Armies) would themselues immure
In my blunt Braines; that by their confluence,
I might expresse (with Nectar'd Phrases pure)
The praise that to this Passion right pertaines,
Whose sacred vertue, sacred Vertue, staines!

The vertue of this Passion is of pow'r
Reuenges Red, to change to Mercies White;
This Passions vertue is so passing pure,
That Fowle to Faire it turnes, and Darke, to Light:
" The Land-marke to true Rest, when Troubles tosse
" (In Sorrowes seas) is Christ vpon the Crosse.

Ye vnconfused orders Angellick
In order come to take this Blood effuz'd:
Bring forth Celestiall Bowles, with motion quick,
To which this pretious Blood may be infuz'd:
Let not one drop be lost of such rare Blood,
That makes men passing bad, exceeding good!

Couer this Aqua-vitae with your wings
From touch of Infidels, and Iewes prophane:
They haue no int'rest in this King of Kings;
Whose blood they suck'd, which blood will be their bane:
Make much thereof, sith but the least drop of it,
Is worth ten thousand Worlds for price, and profit:

Yet, let poore Spirited Conuerts, drinke their fill;
And swill their drie Soules, till with it they swell
Such Diuine surfetting is wholesome still:
For, noysome Humors it doth quite expell:
Yea, though, with griefe, they swell, and breake with paine,
Such griefe brings joy, and makes them whole againe.

The elephants, of yore inur'd to warre,
Before the Fight, some blood were vs'd to see;
Which them incenst, the more to make them dare;
Then, if a Beast shall not our better be,
Sith Christ wee see quite drown'd thus in his Blood,
We must endure the Racke, as he the Rood.

Fiue Founts he opens; whence, doe (gushing) flow
Red Seas, to drowne our blacke Egyptian sinnes;
That they no more may seeke our ouerthrow:
Then, should we goe, like Israels Denizins,
Though Wasts of Woes, orethrowing eu'ry Let,
Till we into the Land of Promise get!