Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

clouds

fighting

The flitting skyes, like flying pursuivant,
Against fowle feendes to ayd us militant!
They for us fight, they watch, and dewly ward,
And their bright squadrons round about us plant;
And all for love, and nothing for reward;

O why should hevenly God to men have such regard !

THE BOWER OF BLISS.

THERE the most daintie paradise on ground
Itselfe doth offer to his sober eye,

duly

followed

In which all pleasures plenteously abownd, And none does others happinesse envye; The painted flowers; the trees upshooting hye; The dales for shade; the hilles for breathing space; The trembling groves; the christall running by ; And, that which all faire works doth most aggrace, The art, which all that wrought, appeared in no place. One would have thought (so cunningly the rude And scornéd parts were mingled with the fine,) That Nature had for wantonesse ensude Art, and that Art at Nature did repine; So striving each the other to undermine, Each did the others worke more beautify So differing both in wills, agreed in fine: So all agreed, through sweete diversity, This gardin to adorne with all variety. And in the midst of all a fountaine stood, Of richest substance that on earth might bee, and shiny, that the silver flood Through every channell running one might see; Most goodly it with curious ymageree

So pure

Was overwrought, and shapes of naked boys,
Of which some seemed with lively iollitee

To fly about, playing their wanton toyes,

Whylest others did themselves embay in liquid ioyes. bathe

And over all, of purest gold, was spred
A trayle of yvie in his native hew;
For the rich metall was so colouréd,
That wight, who did not well avised it vew,
Would surely deeme it to bee yvie trew :
Low his lascivious armes adown did creepe,

loose

That themselves dipping in the silver dew,

Their fleecy flowres they fearefully did steepe,
Which drops of christall seemed for wantones to weep.
Infinit streames continually did well

Out of this fountain, sweete and faire to see,
The which into an ample laver fell,
And shortly grew to so great quantitie
That like a little lake it seemd to bee;

presently

Whose depth exceeded not three cubits hight, That through the waves one might the bottom see, All pavd beneath with jaspar shining bright, That seemd the fountaine in that sea did sayle upright. Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound Of all that mote delight a daintie ear, Such as attonce might not on living ground, Save in this paradise, be heard elsewhere: Right hard it was for wight which did it heare To read what manner musicke that mote bee; For all that pleasing is to living eare, Was there consorted in one harmonee; Birdes, voices, instruments, windes, waters, all agree: The ioyous birdes, shrouded in chearefull shade, Their notes unto the voice attempred sweet; The angelical soft trembling voyces made To the instruments divine respondence meet; The silver-sounding instruments did meet With the base murmure of the waters fall: The waters fall, with difference discreet, Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call : The gentle warbling wind low answered to all.

ON HEAVENLY LOVE.

LOVE, lift me up upon thy golden wings

From this base world unto thy Heaven's hight,

Where I may see those admirable things

Which there thou workest by thy soveraine might,

Farre above feeble reach of earthly sight,

That I thereof an heavenly hymne may sing
Unto the God of Love, high Heaven's King.

BEFORE THIS WORLD'S GREAT FRAME, in which all things
Are now containd, found any being place,

Ere flitting Time could wag his eyas wings
About that mightie bound which doth embrace
The rolling spheres, and parts there houres by space,
That high Eternall Powre, which now doth move
In all these things, moved in it selfe by love.

It loved it selfe, because it selfe was faire
(For fair is loved); and of itself 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 love's dislike or pride was to be found,
Whom he therefore with equal honour crownd.
With him he raigned, before all time prescribed,
In endlesse glorie and immortall might,
Together with that Third from them derived,
Most wise, most holy, most almightie Spright!
Whose kingdomes throne no thoughts of earthly wight
Can comprehend, much lesse my trembling verse
With equall words can hope it to reherse.

Yet being pregnant still with powrefull grace,
And full of fruitfull Love, that Loves to get
Things like himselfe, and to enlarge his race,
His second brood, though not of powre so great,
Yet full of beautie, next he did beget,

An infinite increase of angels bright,

All glistring glorious in their Maker's light.

To them the Heaven's illimitable hight,

(Not this round Heaven, which we from hence behold,
Adornd with thousand lamps of burning light,
And with ten thousand gemmes of shyning gold,)
He gave as their inheritance to hold,

That they might serve him in eternal bliss,
And be partakers of those ioyes of his.

There they in their trinall triplicities
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,
And caroll hymnes of love both day and night.

Both day and night is unto them all one;
For he his beames doth unto them extend,
That darknesse there appeareth never none;
Ne hath their day, ne hath their blisse, an end,
But there their termelesse time in pleasure spend;
Ne ever should their happinesse decay,

Had not they dared their Lord to disobay.

But pride, impatient of long resting peace,
Did puffe them up with greedy bold ambition,
That they gan cast their state how to increase
Above the fortune of their first condition,
And sit in God's own seat without commission:
The brightest angel, even the child of light,
Drew millions more against their God to fight.

The Almighty, seeing their so bold assay,
Kindled the flame of his consuming yre,
And with his onely breath them blew away
From Heaven's hight, to which they did aspyre,
To deepest Hell, and lake of damned fyre,
Where they in darknesse and dread horror dwell,
Hating the happie light from which they fell.

But that Eternall Fount of love and grace,
Still flowing forth his goodnesse unto 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 unknowen colony therein,

Whose root from earth's base groundworke should begin.

Therefore of clay, base, vile, and next to nought,
Yet form'd by wondrous skill, and by his might,
According to an heavenly patterne wrought,
Which he had fashiond in his wise foresight,
He man did make, and breathed a living spright
Into his face, most beautifull and fayre,
Endewd with wisedome's riches, heavenly, rare.

Such he him made, that he resemble might
Himselfe, as mortall thing immortall could;
Him to be lord of every living wight
He made by love out of his owne like mould,
In whom he might his mightie selfe behould;

For love doth love the thing beloved to see,
That like it selfe in lovely shape may bee.
But man, forgetfull of his Maker's grace,
No lesse than angels, whom he did ensew,
Fell from the hope of promist heavenly place,
Into the mouth of Death, to sinners dew,
And all his off-spring into thraldome threw,
Where they for ever should in bonds remaine,
Of never-dead yet ever-dying paine.

Till that great Lord of Love, which him at first
Made of meere love, and after liked well,
Seeing him lie like creature long accurst
In that deep horror of despeyred Hell,

Him, wretch, in doole would let no longer 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,
In which he reigned with his glorious syre,
He downe descended, like a most demisse
And abiect thrall, in fleshe's fraile attyre,
That he for him might pay sinne's deadly hyre,
And him restore unto that happie state
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 angel, though they man surpass,
Could make amends to God for man's misguyde,
But onely man himselfe, who selfe did slyde:
So, taking flesh of sacred virgin's wombe,
For man's deare sake he did a man become.

And that most blessed bodie, which was borne
Without all blemish or reprochfull blame,
He freely gave to be both rent and torne
Of cruell hands, who with despightfull shame
Revyling him, that them most vile became,
At length him nayled on a gallow-tree,
And slew the iust by most uniust decree.

O blessed Well of Love! O Floure of Grace!
O glorious Morning-Starre! O Lampe of Light!
Most lively image of thy Father's face,

« VorigeDoorgaan »