Out of Grotius his Tragedy of Christes Sufferinges

O thou the span of whose Omnipotence
Doth graspe the fate of thinges, and share th' events
Of future chance! the world's grand sire; and mine
Before the world. Obedient lo! I joyne
An aequall pace thus farre; thy word, my deedes
Have flow'd together, if ought further needes
I shrinke not. but thus ready stand to beare
(ffor else why came I?) ev'n what e're I feare.
Yett o what end? where does the period dwell
Of my sad labours? no day yett could tell
My soule shee was secure. Still have I borne
A still increasing burden; worse hath torne
His way through bad, to my successive hurt.
I left my glorious Fathers star-pav'd Court.
E're borne was banish't: borne was glad t' embrace
A poore (yea scarce a) roofe. whose narrow place
Was not so much as cleane: a stable kind;
The best my cradle and my birth could find.
Then was I knowne; and knowne unluckily
A weake, a wretched child; ev'n then was I
For Juryes king an enemy, even worth
His feare; the circle of a yeares round growth
Was not yett full, (a time that to my age
Made litle, not a litle to his rage)
When a wild sword ev'n from their brests, did lop
The Mothers Joyes in an untimely crop.
The search of one child (cruell industry!)
Was losse of multitudes; and missing mee
A bloud drunke errour spilt the costly ayme
Of their mad sin; (how great! and yett how vayne!)
I cal'd a hundred miracles to tell
The world my father. then does envy swell
And breake upon mee: my owne virtues height
Hurtes mee far worse then Herods highest spite;
A riddle! (father) still acknowledg'd thine
Am still refus'd; before the Infant Shrine
Of my weake feet the Persian Magi lay
And left their Mithra for my star: this they.
But Isaacks issue, the peculiar heyres
Of thy old goodnesse, know thee not for theires,
Basely degenerous. Against mee flocke
The stiffe neck'd Pharisees that use to mocke
Sound goodnesse with her shadow which they weare,
And 'gainst religion her owne colours beare.
The bloud hound brood of Priests against mee draw
Those Lawlesse tyrant masters of the Law.
Profane Sadocus too does fiercely lead
His court-fed impes against this hated head.
What would they more? th' ave seene when at my nod
Great Natures selfe hath shrunke and spoke mee god.
Drinke fayling there where I a guest did shine
The Water blush'd, and started into Wine.
Full of high sparkeling vigour: taught by mee
A sweet inebriated extasy.
And streight of all, this approbation gate,
Good wine in all poynts. but the easy rate;
Other mens hunger with strange feasts I quell'd,
Mine owne with stranger fastings, when I held
Twice twenty dayes pure abstinence, To feed
My minds devotion in my bodyes need.
A subtle inundation of quicke food
Sprang in the spending fingers, and o'reflow'd
The peoples hunger, and when all were full
The broken meate was much more then the whole.
The Wind in all his roaring brags stood still
And listned to the whisper of my will;
The wild waves couch'd; the sea forgott to sweat
Under my feet, the waters to bee wett.
In death-full desperate ills where art and all
Was nothing, there my voyce was med'cinall.
Old clouds of thickest blindnesse fled my sight
And to my touch darke Eyes did owe the light.
Hee that ne're heard now speakes, and finds a tongue
To chaunt my prayses in a new-strung song.
Even hee that belches out a foaming flood
Of hot defiance 'gainst what e're is good,
Father and Heyre of darkenesse, when I chide
Sinkes into Horrours bosome, glad to hide
Himselfe in his owne hell; and now lets loose
Mans brest (his tenement) and breakes up house.
Yett here's not all, nor was't enough for mee;
To freind the living world, even death did see
Mee ranging in his quarters; and the land
Of deepest silence answered my command.
Heav'n, Earth, and Sea, my triumphs, what remain'd
Now but the Grave? the Grave it selfe I tam'd.
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