The Shorter Poems

  Sometimes vpon her forhead they behold

  A thousand Graces masking in delight,

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  Sometimes within her eye-lids they vnfold

  Ten thousand sweet belgards, which to their sight

  Doe seeme like twinckling starres in frostie night:

  But on her lips like rosy buds in May,

  So many millions of chaste pleasures play.

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  All those, O Cytherea, and thousands more

  Thy handmaides be, which do on thee attend

  To decke thy beautie with their dainties store,

  That may it more to mortall eyes commend,

  And make it more admyr’d of foe and frend;

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  That in mens harts thou mayst thy throne enstall

  And spred thy louely kingdome ouer all.

  Then Iö tryumph, O great beauties Queene,

  Aduance the banner of thy conquest hie,

  That all this world, the which thy vassals beene,

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  May draw to thee, and with dew fealtie,

  Adore the powre of thy great Maiestie,

  Singing this Hymne in honour of thy name,

  Compyld by me, which thy poore liegeman am.

  In lieu whereof graunt, O great Soueraine,

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  That she whose conquering beautie doth captiue

  My trembling hart in her eternall chaine,

  One drop of grace at length will to me giue,

  That I her bounden thrall by her may liue,

  And this same life, which first fro me she reaued,

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  May owe to her, of whom I it receaued.

  And you faire Venus dearling, my deare dread,

  Fresh flowre of grace, great Goddesse of my life,

  When your faire eyes these fearefull lines shal read,

  Deigne to let fall one drop of dew reliefe,

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  That may recure my harts long pyning griefe,

  And shew what wondrous powre your beauty hath,

  That can restore a damned wight from death.

  FINIS.

  AN HYMNE OF HEAVENLY LOVE.

  Loue, lift me vp vpon thy golden wings,

  From this base world vnto thy heauens hight,

  Where I may see those admirable things,

  Which there thou workest by thy soueraine might,

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  Farre aboue feeble reach of earthly sight,

  That I thereof an heauenly Hymne may sing

  Vnto the god of Loue, high heauens king.

  Many lewd layes (ah woe is me the more)

  In praise of that mad fit, which fooles call loue,

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  I haue in th’heat of youth made heretofore,

  That in light wits did loose affection moue.

  But all those follies now I do reproue,

  And turned haue the tenor of my string,

  The heauenly prayses of true loue to sing.

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  And ye that wont with greedy vaine desire

  To reade my fault, and wondring at my flame,

  To warme your selues at my wide sparckling fire,

  Sith now that heat is quenched, quench my blame,

  And in her ashes shrowd my dying shame:

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  For who my passed follies now pursewes,

  Beginnes his owne, and my old fault renewes.

  Before this worlds great frame, in which al things

  Are now containd, found any being place,

  Ere flitting Time could wag his eyas wings

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  About that mightie bound, which doth embrace

  The rolling Spheres, and parts their houres by space,

  That high eternall powre, which now doth moue

  In all these things, mou’d in it selfe by loue.

  It lou’d it selfe, because it selfe was faire;

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  (For faire is lou’d;) and of it selfe begot

  Like to it selfe his eldest sonne and heire,

  Eternall, pure, and voide of sinfull blot,

  The firstling of his ioy, in whom no iot

  Of loues dislike, or pride was to be found,

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  Whom he therefore with equall honour crownd.

  With him he raignd, before all time prescribed,

  In endlesse glorie and immortall might,

  Together with that third from them deriued,

  Most wise, most holy, most almightie Spright,

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  Whose kingdomes throne no thought of earthly wight

  Can comprehend, much lesse my trembling verse

  With equall words can hope it to reherse.

  Yet O most blessed Spirit, pure lampe of light,

  Eternall spring of grace and wisedome trew,

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  Vouchsafe to shed into my barren spright,

  Some little drop of thy celestiall dew,

  That may my rymes with sweet infuse embrew,

  And giue me words equall vnto my thought,

  To tell the marueiles by thy mercie wrought.

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  Yet being pregnant still with powrefull grace,

  And full of fruitfull loue, that loues to get

  Things like himselfe, and to enlarge his race,

  His second brood though not in powre so great,

  Yet full of beautie, next he did beget

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  An infinite increase of Angels bright,

  All glistring glorious in their Makers light.

  To them the heauens illimitable hight,

  Not this round heauen, which we from hence behold,

  Adornd with thousand lamps of burning light,

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  And with ten thousand gemmes of shyning gold,

  He gaue as their inheritance to hold,

  That they might serue him in eternall blis,

  And be partakers of those ioyes of his.

  There they in their trinall triplicities

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  About him wait, and on his will depend,

  Either with nimble wings to cut the skies,

  When he them on his messages doth send,

  Or on his owne dread presence to attend,

  Where they behold the glorie of his light,

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  And caroll Hymnes of loue both day and night.

  Both day and night is vnto them all one,

  For he his beames doth still to them extend,

  That darknesse there appeareth neuer none,

  Ne hath their day, ne hath their blisse an end,

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  But there their termelesse time in pleasure spend,

  Ne euer should their happinesse decay,

  Had not they dar’d their Lord to disobay.

  But pride impatient of long resting peace,

  Did puffe them vp with greedy bold ambition,

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  That they gan cast their state how to increase,

  Aboue the fortune of their first condition,

  And sit in Gods owne seat without commission:

  The brightest Angell, euen the Child of light

  Drew millions more against their God to fight.

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  Th’Almighty seeing their so bold assay,

  Kindled the flame of his consuming yre,

  And with his onely breath them blew away

  From heauens hight, to which they did aspyre,

  To deepest hell, and lake of damned fyre;

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  Where they in darknesse and dread horror dwell,

  Hating the happie light from which they fell.

  So that next off-spring of the Makers loue,

  Next to himselfe in glorious degree,

  Degendering to hate fell from aboue

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  Through pride; (for pride and loue may ill agree)

  And now of sinne to all ensample bee:

  How then can sinfull flesh it selfe assure,

 
Sith purest Angels fell to be impure?

  But that eternall fount of loue and grace,

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  Still flowing forth his goodnesse vnto all,

  Now seeing left a waste and emptie place

  In his wyde Pallace, through those Angels fall,

  Cast to supply the same, and to enstall

  A new vnknowen Colony therein,

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  Whose root from earths base groundworke shold begin.

  Therefore of clay, base, vile, and next to nought,

  Yet form’d by wondrous skill, and by his might:

  According to an heauenly patterne wrought,

  Which he had fashiond in his wise foresight,

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  He man did make, and breathd a liuing spright

  Into his face most beautifull and fayre,

  Endewd with wisedomes riches, heauenly, rare.

  Such he him made, that he resemble might

  Himselfe, as mortall thing immortall could;

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  Him to be Lord of euery liuing wight,

  He made by loue out of his owne like mould,

  In whom he might his mightie selfe behould:

  For loue doth loue the thing belou’d to see,

  That like it selfe in louely shape may bee.

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  But man forgetfull of his makers grace,

  No lesse then Angels, whom he did ensew,

  Fell from the hope of promist heauenly place,

  Into the mouth of death to sinners dew,

  And all his off-spring into thraldome threw:

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  Where they for euer should in bonds remaine,

  Of neuer dead, yet euer dying paine.

  Till that great Lord of Loue, which him at first

  Made of meere loue, and after liked well,

  Seeing him lie like creature long accurst,

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  In that deepe horror of despeyred hell,

  Him wretch in doole would let no lenger dwell,

  But cast out of that bondage to redeeme,

  And pay the price, all were his debt extreeme.

  Out of the bosome of eternall blisse,

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  In which he reigned with his glorious syre,

  He downe descended, like a most demisse

  And abiect thrall, in fleshes fraile attyre,

  That he for him might pay sinnes deadly hyre,

  And him restore vnto that happie state,

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  In which he stood before his haplesse fate.

  In flesh at first the guilt committed was,

  Therefore in flesh it must be satisfyde:

  Nor spirit, nor Angell, though they man surpas,

  Could make amends to God for mans misguyde,

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  But onely man himselfe, who selfe did slyde.

  So taking flesh of sacred virgins wombe,

  For mans deare sake he did a man become.

  And that most blessed bodie, which was borne

  Without all blemish or reprochfull blame,

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  He freely gaue to be both rent and torne

  Of cruell hands, who with despightfull shame

  Reuyling him, that them most vile became,

  At length him nayled on a gallow tree,

  And slew the iust, by most vniust decree.

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  O huge and most vnspeakeable impression

  Of loues deepe wound, that pierst the piteous hart

  Of that deare Lord with so entyre affection,

  And sharply launching euery inner part,

  Dolours of death into his soule did dart;

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  Doing him die, that neuer it deserued,

  To free his foes, that from his heast had swerued.

  What hart can feele least touch of so sore launch,

  Or thought can think the depth of so deare wound?

  Whose bleeding sourse their streames yet neuer staunch,

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  But stil do flow, and freshly still redound,

  To heale the sores of sinfull soules vnsound,

  And dense the guilt of that infected cryme,

  Which was enrooted in all fleshly slyme.

  O blessed well of loue, O floure of grace,

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  O glorious Morning starre, O lampe of light,

  Most liuely image of thy fathers face,

  Eternall King of glorie, Lord of might,

  Meeke lambe of God before all worlds behight,

  How can we thee requite for all this good?

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  Or what can prize that thy most precious blood?

  Yet nought thou ask’st in lieu of all this loue,

  But loue of vs for guerdon of thy paine.

  Ay me; what can vs lesse then that behoue?

  Had he required life of vs againe,

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  Had it beene wrong to aske his owne with gaine?

  He gaue vs life, he it restored lost;

  Then life were least, that vs so litle cost.

  But he our life hath left vnto vs free,

  Free that was thrall, and blessed that was band;

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  Ne ought demaunds, but that we louing bee,

  As he himselfe hath lou’d vs afore hand,

  And bound therto with an eternall band,

  Him first to loue, that vs so dearely bought,

  And next, our brethren to his image wrought.

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  Him first to loue, great right and reason is,

  Who first to vs our life and being gaue;

  And after when we fared had amisse,

  Vs wretches from the second death did saue;

  And last the food of life, which now we haue,

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  Euen himselfe in his deare sacrament,

  To feede our hungry soules vnto vs lent.

  Then next to loue our brethren, that were made

  Of that selfe mould, and that selfe makers hand,

  That we, and to the same againe shall fade,

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  Where they shall haue like heritage of land,

  How euer here on higher steps we stand;

  Which also were with selfe same price redeemed

  That we, how euer of vs light esteemed.

  And were they not, yet since that louing Lord

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  Commaunded vs to loue them for his sake,

  Euen for his sake, and for his sacred word,

  Which in his last bequest he to vs spake,

  We should them loue, and with their needs partake;

  Knowing that whatsoere to them we giue,

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  We giue to him, by whom we all doe liue.

  Such mercy he by his most holy reede

  Vnto vs taught, and to approue it trew,

  Ensampled it by his most righteous deede,

  Shewing vs mercie miserable crew,

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