Put on thy self in thine own looks: t' our eyes
Be what thy beauties, not our blots, have made thee;
Such as (ere our dark sinnes to dust betray'd thee)
Heav'n set thee down new drest; when thy bright birth 5
Shot thee like lightning to th' astonisht Earth.
From th' dawn of thy fair eyelids wipe away
Dull mists and melancholy clouds: take Day
And thine own beams about thee: bring the best
Of whatsoe're perfum'd thy Eastern nest. 10
Girt all thy glories to thee: then sit down,
Open this book, fair Queen, and take thy crown.
These learned leaves shall vindicate to thee
Thy holyest, humblest, handmaid, Charitie;
She'l dresse thee like thy self, set thee on high 15
Where thou shalt reach all hearts, command each eye.
Lo! where I see thy altars wake, and rise
From the pale dust of that strange sacrifice
Which they themselves were; each one putting on
A majestie that may beseem thy throne. 20
The holy youth of Heav'n, whose golden rings
Girt round thy awfull altars; with bright wings
Fanning thy fair locks, (which the World beleeves
As much as sees) shall with these sacred leaves
Trick their tall plumes, and in that garb shall go 25
If not more glorious, more conspicuous tho.
--------Be it enacted then,
By the fair laws of thy firm-pointed pen,
God's services no longer shall put on
Pure sluttishnesse for pure religion: 30
No longer shall our Churches' frighted stones
Lie scatter'd like the burnt and martyr'd bones
Of dead Devotion; nor faint marbles weep
In their sad ruines; nor Religion keep
A melancholy mansion in those cold 35
Urns: Like God's sanctuaries they lookt of old;
Now seem they Temples consecrate to none,
Or to a new god, Desolation.
No more the hypocrite shall th' upright be
Because he's stiffe, and will confesse no knee: 40
While others bend their knee, no more shalt thou,
(Disdainfull dust and ashes!) bend thy brow;
Nor on God's altar cast two scorching eyes,
Bak't in hot scorn, for a burnt sacrifice:
But (for a lambe) thy tame and tender heart, 45
New struck by Love, still trembling on his dart;
Or (for two turtle-doves) it shall suffice
To bring a pair of meek and humble eyes.
This shall from henceforth be the masculine theme
Pulpits and pennes shall sweat in; to redeem 50
Vertue to action, that life-feeding flame
That keeps Religion warm: not swell a name
Of Faith; a mountain-word, made up of aire,
With those deare spoils that wont to dresse the fair
And fruitfull Charitie's full breasts (of old), 55
Turning her out to tremble in the cold.
What can the poore hope from us, when we be
Uncharitable ev'n to Charitie?
Nor shall our zealous ones still have a fling
At that most horrible and horned thing, 60
Forsooth the Pope: by which black name they call
The Turk, the devil, Furies, Hell and all,
And something more. O he is Antichrist:
Doubt this, and doubt (say they) that Christ is Christ:
Why, 'tis a point of Faith. What e're it be, 65
I'm sure it is no point of Charitie.
In summe, no longer shall our people hope,
To be a true Protestant's but to hate the Pope.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
I have taken the text of this poem as it originally appeared, because in
all the editions of the Poems wherein it is given the last ten lines are
omitted. TURNBULL discovered this after his text of the Poems was
printed off, and so had to insert them in a Postscript, wherein his
genius for blundering describes Shelford's volume as 'Five ... _Poems_.'
These slight variations may be recorded:
The title in all is 'On a Treatise of Charity.'
Line 12, 1648 has 'thy' for 'this.'
" 16, ib. 'shall' for 'shalt.'
" 17, all the editions 'off'rings' for 'altars.'
" 30, ib. 'A' for the first 'pure.'
" 36, our text misprints 'look' for 'look't.'
The poem is signed in Shelford's volume 'RICH. CRASHAW, Aul. Pemb. A.B.'
It appeared in 'Steps' of 1646 (pp. 86-8), 1648 (pp. 101-2), 1670 (pp.
68-70). G.
DIES IRAE, DIES ILLA:
THE HYMN OF THE CHVRCH, IN MEDITATION OF THE DAY OF IVDGMENT.[54]
I.
Hear'st thou, my soul, what serious things
Both the Psalm and sybyll sings
Of a sure Iudge, from Whose sharp ray
The World in flames shall fly away.
II.
O that fire! before whose face
Heaun and Earth shall find no place.
O those eyes! Whose angry light
Must be the day of that dread night.
III.
O that trump! whose blast shall run
An euen round with the circling sun,
And vrge the murmuring graues to bring
Pale mankind forth to meet his King.
IV.
Horror of Nature, Hell, and Death!
When a deep groan from beneath
Shall cry, We come, we come, and all
The caues of Night answer one call.
V.
O that Book! whose leaues so bright
Will sett the World in seuere light.
O that Iudge! Whose hand, Whose eye
None can indure; yet none can fly.
VI.
Ah then, poor soul, what wilt thou say?
And to what patron chuse to pray?
When starres themselues shall stagger; and
The most firm foot no more then stand.
VII.
But Thou giu'st leaue (dread Lord!) that we
Take shelter from Thy self, in Thee;
And with the wings of Thine Own doue
Fly to Thy scepter of soft loue.
VIII.
Dear, remember in that Day
Who was the cause Thou cam'st this way.
Thy sheep was stray'd; and Thou wouldst be
Euen lost Thyself in seeking me.
IX.
Shall all that labour, all that cost
Of loue, and eu'n that losse, be lost?
And this lou'd soul, iudg'd worth no lesse
Then all that way, and wearyness.
X.
Iust mercy then, Thy reckning be
With my Price, and not with me;
'Twas pay'd at first with too much pain,
To be pay'd twice; or once, in vain.
XI.
Mercy (my Iudge), mercy I cry
With blushing cheek and bleeding ey:
The conscious colors of my sin
Are red without and pale within.
XII.
O let Thine Own soft bowells pay
Thy self; and so discharge that day.
If Sin can sigh, Loue can forgiue:
O say the word, my soul shall liue.
XIII.
Those mercyes which Thy Mary found,
Or who Thy crosse confes't and crown'd;
Hope tells my heart, the same loues be
Still aliue, and still for me.
XIV.
Though both my prayres and teares combine,
Both worthlesse are; for they are mine.
But Thou Thy bounteous Self still be;
And show Thou art, by sauing me.
XV.
O when Thy last frown shall proclaim
The flocks of goates to folds of flame,
And all Thy lost sheep found shall be;
Let 'Come ye blessed,' then call me.
XVI.
When the dread '_Ite_' shall diuide
Those limbs of death, from Thy left side;
Let those life-speaking lipps command
That I inheritt Thy right hand.
XVII.
O hear a suppliant heart, all crush't
And crumbled into contrite dust.
My hope, my fear! my Iudge, my Freind!
Take charge of me, and of my end.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
In st. vi. line 4, 'then' is = than, on which cf. our PHINEAS FLETCHER,
as before: in st. xvi. line 1, '_Ite_' = 'go ye' of the Vulgate. 1670,
st. ii. line 3, misprints 'these' for 'those:' st. viii. line 3, 'And
Thou would'st be,' _i.e._ didst will to be,--not merely wished to be,
but carried out Thy intent. G.
CHARITAS NIMIA, OR THE DEAR BARGAIN.[55]
Lord, what is man? why should he coste Thee 1
So dear? what had his ruin lost Thee?
Lord, what is man? that thou hast ouerbought
So much a thing of nought?
Loue is too kind, I see; and can 5
Make but a simple merchant-man.
'Twas for such sorry merchandise,
Bold painters haue putt out his eyes.
Alas, sweet Lord, what wer't to Thee
If there were no such wormes as we? 10
Heau'n ne're the lesse still Heau'n would be,
Should mankind dwell
In the deep Hell:
What haue his woes to doe with Thee?
Let him goe weep 15
O're his own wounds;
Seraphims will not sleep
Nor spheares let fall their faithfull rounds.
Still would the youthfull spirits sing;
And still Thy spatious palace ring; 20
Still would those beauteous ministers of light
Burn all as bright.
And bow their flaming heads before Thee:
Still thrones and dominations would adore Thee;
Still would those euer-wakefull sons of fire 25
Keep warm Thy prayse
Both nights and dayes,
And teach Thy lou'd name to their noble lyre.
Let froward dust then doe it's kind;
And giue it self for sport to the proud wind. 30
Why should a peice of peeuish clay plead shares
In the aeternity of Thy old cares?
Why shouldst Thou bow Thy awfull brest to see
What mine own madnesses haue done with me?
Should not the king still keepe his throne 35
Because some desperate fool's vndone?
Or will the World's illustrious eyes
Weep for euery worm that dyes.
Will the gallant sun
E're the lesse glorious run? 40
Will he hang down his golden head
Or e're the sooner seek his Western bed,
Because some foolish fly
Growes wanton, and will dy?
If I were lost in misery, 45
What was it to Thy Heaun and Thee?
What was it to Thy pretious blood
If my foul heart call'd for a floud?
What if my faithlesse soul and I
Would needs fall in 50
With guilt and sin;
What did the Lamb, that He should dy?
What did the Lamb, that He should need,
When the wolf sins, Himself to bleed?
If my base lust, 55
Bargain'd with Death and well-beseeming dust:
Why should the white
Lamb's bosom write
The purple name
Of my sin's shame? 60
Why should His vnstaind brest make good
My blushes with His Own heart-blood?
O my Saviovr, make me see
How dearly Thou hast payd for me,
That lost again my life may proue, 65
As then in death, so now in loue.
S. MARIA MAIOR.
Dilectus meus mihi, et ego illi, qui pascitur inter lilia. _Cant._
ii.
THE HIMN, O GLORIOSA DOMINA.[56]
Hail, most high, most humble one! 1
Aboue the world, below thy Son;
Whose blush the moon beauteously marres
And staines the timerous light of stares.
He that made all things, had not done 5
Till He had made Himself thy Son:
The whole World's host would be thy guest
And board Himself at thy rich brest.
O boundles hospitality!
The Feast of all things feeds on thee. 10
The first Eue, mother of our Fall,
E're she bore any one, slew all.
Of her vnkind gift might we haue
Th' inheritance of a hasty grave:
Quick-burye'd in the wanton tomb 15
Of one forbidden bitt;
Had not a better frvit forbidden it.
Had not thy healthfull womb
The World's new eastern window bin,
And giuen vs heau'n again, in giuing Him. 20
Thine was the rosy dawn, that spring the Day
Which renders all the starres she stole away.
Let then the aged World be wise, and all
Proue nobly here vnnaturall;
'Tis gratitude to forgett that other 25
And call the maiden Eue their mother.
Yee redeem'd nations farr and near,
Applaud your happy selues in her;
(All you to whom this loue belongs)
And keep't aliue with lasting songs. 30
Let hearts and lippes speak lowd; and say
Hail, door of life: and sourse of Day!
The door was shut, the fountain seal'd;
Yet Light was seen and Life reueal'd.
The door was shut, yet let in day, 35
The fountain seal'd, yet life found way.
Glory to Thee, great virgin's Son
In bosom of Thy Father's blisse.
The same to Thee, sweet Spirit be done;
As euer shall be, was, and is. Amen. 40
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
The heading in 1648 is simply 'The Virgin-Mother:' in 1670 it is 'The
Hymn, O Gloriosa Domina.'
Line 2, 1648 reads 'the Son.'
" 10, our text (1652) misprints 'the' for 'thee.'
Line 21, I follow here the text of 1648. 1652 reads
'Thine was the rosy dawn that sprung the day.'
and this is repeated in 1670 and, of course, by TURNBULL.
Line 26, 1648 has 'your' for 'their.'
" 35 is inadvertently dropped in our text (1652), though
the succeeding line (with which it rhymes) appears. I restore
it. 1670 also drops it; and so again TURNBULL!
Lines 43-44, 'Because some foolish fly.' This metaphorical allusion to
the Fall and its results (as described by MILTON and others) is founded
on the dying of various insects after begetting their kind. G.
HOPE.[57]
Hope, whose weak beeing ruin'd is 1
Alike if it succeed or if it misse!
Whom ill and good doth equally confound,
And both the hornes of Fate's dilemma wound.
Vain shadow; that dost vanish quite 5
Both at full noon and perfect night!
The starres haue not a possibility
Of blessing thee.
If thinges then from their end we happy call,
'Tis Hope is the most hopelesse thing of all. 10
Hope, thou bold taster of delight!
Who in stead of doing so, deuourst it quite.
Thou bringst vs an estate, yet leau'st vs poor
By clogging it with legacyes before.
The ioyes which we intire should wed 15
Come deflour'd-virgins to our bed.
Good fortunes without gain imported be
Such mighty custom's paid to thee
For ioy, like wine kep't close, doth better tast;
If it take air before, his spirits wast. 20
Hope, Fortun's cheating lottery,
Where for one prize, an hundred blankes there be.
Fond anchor, Hope! who tak'st thine aime so farr
That still or short or wide thine arrows are;
Thinne empty cloud which th' ey deceiues 25
With shapes that our own fancy giues.
A cloud which gilt and painted now appeares
But must drop presently in teares:
When thy false beames o're reason's light preuail,
By _ignes fatvi_ for North starres we sail. 30
Brother of Fear, more gaily clad,
The merryer fool o' th' two, yet quite as mad.
Sire of Repentance, child of fond desire
That blow'st the chymick's and the louer's fire.
Still leading them insensibly on 35
With the strong witchcraft of 'anon.'
By thee the one does changing nature, through
Her endlesse labyrinths pursue;
And th' other chases woman; while she goes
More wayes and turnes then hunted Nature knowes. 40
M. COWLEY.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
In all the editions save that of 1652 the respective portions of COWLEY
and CRASHAW are alternated as Question and Answer, after a fashion of
the day exemplified by _Pembroke_ and RUDYARD and others. The heading in
1646, 1648 and 1670 accordingly is 'On Hope, by way of Question and
Answer, between A. COWLEY and R. CRASHAW.'
_Various readings from 1646 edition._
Line 3, 'and' for 'or,' and 'doth' for 'does.'
" 7, 'Fates' for 'starres:' but as Fate occurs in line 4,
'starres' seems preferable.
Line 9, 'ends' for 'end.'
" 18, 'so' for 'such.'
" 19, 'doth' for 'does;' adopted.
" 20, 'its' for 'his;' the personification warrants 'his.'
" 25. All the other editions misread
'Thine empty cloud, the eye it selfe deceives.'
There can be no question that 'thinne' not 'thine' was the poet's word.
Cf. CRASHAW'S reference in his Answer. TURNBULL perpetuates the error.
Line 30, 'not' for 'for.'
" 33, 'shield' in all the editions save 1652 by mistake.
" 34, 'blows' and 'chymicks' for 'chymick;' the latter adopted.
Line 37, as in line 19.
" 38, spelled 'laborinths.'
In our Essay see critical remarks showing that COWLEY and CRASHAW
revised their respective portions. It seems to have escaped notice that
COWLEY himself wrote another poem '_For_ Hope,' as his former was
'_Against_ Hope.' See it in our Study of Crashaw's Life and Poetry. G.
M. CRASHAW'S ANSWER FOR HOPE.[58]
Dear Hope! Earth's dowry, and Heaun's debt! 1
The entity of things that are not yet.
Subtlest, but surest beeing! thou by whom
Our nothing has a definition!
Substantiall shade! whose sweet allay 5
Blends both the noones of Night and Day:
Fates cannot find out a capacity
Of hurting thee.
From thee their lean dilemma, with blunt horn,
Shrinkes, as the sick moon from the wholsome morn. 10
Rich hope! Loue's legacy, vnder lock
Of Faith! still spending, and still growing stock!
Our crown-land lyes aboue, yet each meal brings
A seemly portion for the sonnes of kings.
Nor will the virgin ioyes we wed 15
Come lesse vnbroken to our bed,
Because that from the bridall cheek of Blisse
Thou steal'st vs down a distant kisse.
Hope's chast stealth harmes no more Ioye's maidenhead
Then spousal rites preiudge the marriage bed. 20
Fair hope! Our earlyer Heau'n! by thee
Young Time is taster to Eternity:
Thy generous wine with age growes strong, not sowre,
Nor does it kill thy fruit, to smell thy flowre.
Thy golden, growing head neuer hangs down 25
Till in the lappe of Loue's full noone
It falls; and dyes! O no, it melts away
As doth the dawn into the Day:
As lumpes of sugar loose themselues, and twine
Their subtile essence with the soul of wine. 30
Fortune? alas, aboue the World's low warres
Hope walks; and kickes the curld heads of conspiring starres.
Her keel cutts not the waues where these winds stirr,
Fortune's whole lottery is one blank to her.
Her shafts and shee, fly farre above, 35
And forage in the fields of light and love.
Sweet Hope! kind cheat! fair fallacy! by thee
We are not where nor what we be,
But what and where we would be. Thus art thou
Our absent presence, and our future now. 40
Faith's sister! nurse of fair desire!
Fear's antidote! a wise and well-stay'd fire!
Temper 'twixt chill Despair, and torrid Ioy!
Queen regent in yonge Loue's minority!
Though the vext chymick vainly chases 45
His fugitiue gold through all her faces;
Though Loue's more feirce, more fruitlesse, fires assay:
One face more fugitiue then all they;
True Hope's a glorious huntresse, and her chase,
The God of Nature in the feilds of grace. 50
NOTES.
_Various readings from 1646 edition._
Line 2, 'things' for 'those;' adopted. But in HARLEIAN MS. 6917-18, it
is 'those.' As this MS. supplies in poems onward various excellent
readings (_e.g._ 'Wishes'), it may be noted that the Collection came
from Lord Somers' Library of MSS., and is accordingly authoritative.
Lines 5-6 read
'Faire cloud of fire, both shade and light
Our life in death, our day in night.'
Our text (1652) seems finer and deeper, and to put the thought with more
concinnity.
Line 9, 'thinne' for 'lean.'
" 10, 'like' for 'as.'
" 11, 'Rich hope' dropped in all the other editions; but
as it is parallel with the 'dear Hope' and 'fair Hope' of the
preceding and succeeding stanzas, I have restored the words.
The line reads elsewhere,
'Thou art Love's Legacie under lock'
and the next,
'Of Faith: the steward of our growing stock.'
Line 13, 'crown-lands lye.'
" 18, 'Thou thus steal'st downe a distant kisse.'
" 19, 'Hope's chaste kisse wrongs.'...
" 24, 'Nor need wee.'...
" 25, 'growing' is dropped.
" 28, 'doth' for 'does;' adopted.
" 30, 'subtile' for 'supple;' adopted: but in HARLEIAN MS. as before,
it is 'supple.'
Lines 31-32. This couplet is oddly misprinted in all the other editions,
'Fortune, alas, above the world's law warres,
Hope kicks the curld'....
In 1670 there is a capital L to Law: but 'low' yields the evident
meaning intended. Alas is = exclamation simply, not in our present
limitation of it to sorrow. See Epitaph of HERRYS onward, lines 49-52.
Line 33, 'our' for 'these;' the latter necessary in its relation to
'low' not 'law,' the 'winds' being those of the 'warres' of our world.
Line 34, 'And Fate's' for 'Fortune's.'
" 35-36 dropped by our text (1652) inadvertently.
" 36, 'or' for 'nor.'
" 45, 'And' for 'Though.'
" 47, 'huntresse' for 'hunter;' adopted.
" 48, 'field' for 'fields.'
" 49. I prefer 'huntresse' of 1646, 1648 and 1670, to
'hunter' of our text (1652). G.
=Sacred Poetry.=
II.
AIRELLES.
FROM UNPUBLISHED MSS.
NOTE.
See our Preface for explanation of the title. 'Airelles' to these and
other hitherto unprinted and unpublished Poems from the TANNER MSS. of
Archbishop Sancroft: and our Essay for the biographic interest of the
poems on the Gunpowder-Plot. I adhere strictly throughout to the
orthography of the MS. G.
MARY SEEKING JESUS WHEN LOST.
St. Luke ii. 41-52: _Quaerit Jesum suum Maria_, &c. (v. 44.)
And is He gone, Whom these armes held but now?
Their hope, their vow!
Did euer greife and joy in one poore heart
Soe soone change part?
Hee's gone! The fair'st flower that e're bosome drest;
My soule's sweet rest.
My wombe's chast pride is gone, my heauen-borne boy;
And where is joy?
Hee's gone! and His lou'd steppes to wait vpon,
My joy, is gone.
My joyes, and Hee are gone; my greife, and I
Alone must ly.
Hee's gone! not leaving with me, till He come,
One smile at home.
Oh come then, bring Thy mother her lost joy:
Oh come, sweet boy!
Make hast, and come, or e're my greife and I
Make hast, and dy.
Peace, heart! The heauens are angry, all their spheres
Rivall thy teares.
I was mistaken, some faire sphere or other
Was Thy blest mother.
What but the fairest heauen, could owne the birth
Of soe faire earth?
Yet sure Thou did'st lodge heere: this wombe of mine
Was once call'd Thine!
Oft haue these armes Thy cradle envied,
Beguil'd Thy bed.
Oft to Thy easy eares hath this shrill tongue
Trembled, and sung.
Oft haue I wrapt Thy slumbers in soft aires,
And stroak't Thy cares.
Oft hath this hand those silken casements kept,
While their sunnes slept.
Oft haue my hungry kisses made Thine eyes
Too early rise.
Oft haue I spoild my kisses' daintiest diet,
To spare Thy quiet.
Oft from this breast to Thine, my loue-tost heart
Hath leapt, to part.
Oft my lost soule haue I bin glad to seeke
On Thy soft cheeke.
Oft haue these armes--alas!--show'd to these eyes
Their now lost joyes.
Dawne then to me, Thou morne of mine owne day,
And lett heauen stay.
Oh, would'st Thou heere still fixe Thy faire abode,
My bosome God:
What hinders, but my bosome still might be
Thy heauen to Thee?
THE WOUNDS OF THE LORD JESUS.
IN CICATRICES DOMINI JESU.
Come braue soldjers, come and see
Mighty Loue's artillery.
This was the conquering dart; and loe
There shines His quiuer, there His bow.
These the passiue weapons are,
That made great Loue, a man of warre.
The quiver that He bore, did bide
Soe neare, it prov'd His very side:
In it there sate but one sole dart,
A peircing one--His peirced heart.
His weapons were nor steele, nor brasse,
The weapon that He wore, He was.
For bow His vnbent hand did serue,
Well strung with many a broken nerue.
Strange the quiver, bow and dart!
A bloody side, and hand, and heart!
But now the feild is wonne; and they
(The dust of Warre cleane wip'd away)
The weapons now of triumph be,
That were before of Victorie.
ON YE GUNPOWDER-TREASON.[59]
I sing Impiety beyond a name:
Who stiles it any thinge, knowes not the same.
Dull, sluggish Ile! what more than lethargy
Gripes thy cold limbes soe fast, thou canst not fly,
And start from of[f] thy center? hath Heauen's loue
Stuft thee soe full with blisse, thou can'st not moue?
If soe, oh Neptune, may she farre be throwne
By thy kind armes to a kind world vnknowne:
Lett her surviue this day, once mock her fate,
And shee's an island truely fortunate.
Lett not my suppliant breath raise a rude storme
To wrack my suite: O keepe Pitty warme
In thy cold breast, and yearely on this day
Mine eyes a tributary streame shall pay.
Dos't thou not see an exhalation
Belch'd from the sulph'ry lungs of Phlegeton?
A living comet, whose pestiferous breath
Adulterates the virgin aire? with death
It laboures: stif'led Nature's in a swound,
Ready to dropp into a chaos, round
About horror's displai'd; It doth portend,
That earth a shoure of stones to heauen shall send,
And crack the christall globe; the milkly streame
Shall in a siluer raine runne out, whose creame
Shall choake the gaping earth, wch then shall fry
In flames, & of a burning feuer dy.
That wonders may in fashion be, not rare,
A Winter's thunder with a groane shall scare,
And rouze the sleepy ashes of the dead,
Making them skip out of their dusty bed.
Those twinckling eyes of heauen, wch eu'n now shin'd,
Shall with one flash of lightning be struck blind.
The sea shall change his youthfull greene, & slide
Along the shore in a graue purple tide.
It does praesage, that a great Prince shall climbe,
And gett a starry throne before his time.
To vsher in this shoale of prodigies,
Thy infants, Aeolus, will not suffice.
Noe, noe, a giant wind, that will not spare
To tosse poore men like dust into the aire;
Justle downe mountaines: Kings courts shall be sent,
Like bandied balles, into the firmament.
Atlas shall be tript vpp, Ioue's gate shall feele
The weighty rudenes of his boysterous heele.
All this it threats, & more: Horror, that flies
To th' empyraeum of all miseries.
Most tall hyperbole's cannot descry it;
Mischeife, that scornes expression should come nigh it.
All this it only threats: the meteor ly'd;
It was exhal'd, a while it hung, & dy'd.
Heauen kickt the monster downe: downe it was throwne,
The fall of all things it praesag'd, its oune
It quite forgott: the fearfull earth gaue way,
And durst not touch it, heere it made noe stay.
At last it stopt at Pluto's gloomy porch;
He streightway lighted vpp his pitchy torch.
Now to those toiling soules it giues its light,
Wch had the happines to worke ith' night.
They banne the blaze, & curse its curtesy,
For lighting them vnto their misery.
Till now Hell was imperfect; it did need
Some rare choice torture; now 'tis Hell indeed.
Then glutt thy dire lampe with the warmest blood,
That runnes in violett pipes: none other food
It can digest, then watch the wildfire well,
Least it breake forth, & burne thy sooty cell.
UPON THE GUNPOWDER-TREASON.