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| LOVE, 1 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, | 5 |
| That I thereof an heavenly hymne may sing | |
| Unto the God of Love, high heaven’s King. | |
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| Many lewd layes (ah! woe is me the more!) | |
| In praise of that mad fit which fooles call Love, | |
| I have in th’ heate of youth made heretofore, | 10 |
| That in light wits did loose affection move: | |
| But all these follies now I do reprove, | |
| And turned have the tenor of my string, | |
| The heavenly prayses of true Love to sing. | |
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| And ye, that wont with greedy vaine desire | 15 |
| To reade my fault, and, wondring at my flame, | |
| To warme yourselves at my wide sparckling fire, | |
| Sith now that heat is quenched, quench my blame, | |
| And in her ashes shrowd my dying shame; | |
| For who my passed follies now pursewes, | 20 |
| Beginnes his owne, and my old fault renewes. | |
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| BEFORE THIS WORLD’S GREAT FRAME, in which al things | |
| Are now contained, found any being-place, | |
| Ere flitting Time could wag his eyas wings | |
| About that mightie bound which doth embrace | 25 |
| The rolling spheres, and parts their houres by space, | |
| That High Eternall Powre, which now doth move | |
| In all these things, mov’d in its selfe by love. | |
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| It lov’d it selfe, because it selfe was faire; | |
| (For fair is lov’d;) and of it self begot | 30 |
| 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 equall honour crown’d. | 35 |
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| With Him he raign’d, 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 kingdome’s throne no thoughts of earthly wight | 40 |
| Can comprehend, much lesse my trembling verse | |
| With equall words can hope it to reherse. | |
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| Yet, O most blessed Spright! pure lampe of light, | |
| Eternall spring of grace and wisedom trew, | |
| Vouchsafe to shed into my barren spright | 45 |
| Some little drop of thy celestiall dew, | |
| That may my rymes with sweet infuse embrew, | |
| And give me words equall unto my thought, | |
| To tell the marveiles by thy mercie wrought. | |
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| Yet being pregnant still with powrefull grace, | 50 |
| 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, | 55 |
| All glistring glorious in their Maker’s light. | |
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| To them the heaven’s illimitable hight | |
| (Not this round heaven, which we from hence behold, | |
| Adorn’d with thousand lamps of burning light, | |
| And with ten thousand gemmes of shyning gold, | 60 |
| He gave as their inheritance to hold, | |
| That they might serve Him in eternall blis, | |
| And be partakers of these ioyes of His. | |
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| There they in their trinall triplicities | |
| About Him wait, and on His will depend, | 65 |
| 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. | 70 |
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| 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: | 75 |
| Ne ever should their happinesse decay, | |
| Had not they dar’d their Lord to disobay. | |
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| But pride, impatient of long resting peace, | |
| Did puffe them up with greedy bold ambition, | |
| That they gan cast their state how to increase | 80 |
| 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. | |
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| Th’ Almighty, seeing their so bold assay, | 85 |
| 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, | 90 |
| Hating the happie light from which they fell. | |
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| So that next off-spring of the Maker’s love, | |
| Next to Himselfe in glorious degree, | |
| Degendering to hate, fell from above | |
| Through pride, (for pride and love may ill agree,) | 95 |
| And now of sinne to all ensample bee: | |
| How then can sinnful flesh it selfe assure, | |
| Sith purest angels fell to be impure? | |
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| But that Eternall Fount of love and grace, | |
| Still flowing forth His goodnesse unto all, | 100 |
| 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. | 105 |
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| 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 fashioned in his wise foresight, | |
| He man did make, and breath’d a living spright | 110 |
| Into his face, most beautifull and fayre, | |
| Endewd with wisedome’s riches, heavenly, rare. | |
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| Such He him made, that he resemble might | |
| Himselfe, as mortall thing immortall could; | |
| Him to be lord of every living wight | 115 |
| He made by love out of his owne like mould, | |
| In whom He might His mightie selfe behould: | |
| For Love doth love the thing belov’d to see, | |
| That like it selfe in lovely shape may bee. | |
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| But man, forgetfull of his Maker’s grace | 120 |
| 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 offspring into thraldome threw, | |
| Where they for ever should in bonds remaine | 125 |
| Of never-dead yet ever-dying paine: | |
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| 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, | 130 |
| 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. | |
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| Out of the bosome of eternall blisse, | |
| In which He reigned with His glorious Syre, | 135 |
| He downe descended, like a most demisse | |
| And abiect thrall, in fleshes 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. | 140 |
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| In flesh at first the guilt committed was, | |
| Therefore in flesh it must be satisfyde; | |
| Nor spirit, nor angel, though they man surpas, | |
| Could make amends to God for man’s misguyde, | |
| But onely man himselfe, who selfe did slyde: | 145 |
| So, taking flesh of sacred virgin’s wombe, | |
| For man’s deare sake He did a man become. | |
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| And that most blessed bodie, which was borne | |
| Without all blemish or reprochfull blame, | |
| He freely gave to be both rent and torne | 150 |
| 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 lust by most uniust decree. | |
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| O huge and most unspeakeable impression | 155 |
| Of Love’s deep wound, that pierst the piteous hart | |
| Of that deare Lord with so entyre affection, | |
| And, sharply launcing every inner part, | |
| Dolours of death into His soule did dart, | |
| Doing him die that never it deserved, | 160 |
| To free His foes, that from His heast had swerved! | |
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| What hart can feel least touch of so sore launch, | |
| Or thought can think the depth of so deare wound? | |
| Whose bleeding sourse their streames yet never staunch, | |
| But stil do flow, and freshly still redownd, | 165 |
| To heale the sores of sinfull soules unsound, | |
| And clense the guilt of that infected cryme | |
| Which was enrooted in all fleshly slyme. | |
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| O blessed Well of Love! O Floure of Grace! | |
| O glorious Morning-Starre! O Lampe of Light! | 170 |
| Most lively image of thy Father’s face, | |
| Eternal King of Glorie, Lord of Might, | |
| Meeke Lambe of God, before all worlds behight, | |
| How can we Thee requite for all this good? | |
| Or what can prize that Thy most precious blood? | 175 |
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| Yet nought Thou ask’st in lieu of all this love, | |
| But love of us, for guerdon of thy paine: | |
| Ay me! what can us lesse than that behove? | |
| Had He required life for us againe, | |
| Had it beene wrong to ask His owne with gaine? | 180 |
| He gave us life, He it restored lost; | |
| Then life were least, that us so little cost. | |
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| But He our life hath left unto us free; | |
| Free that was thrall, and blessed that was band; | |
| Ne ought demaunds but that we loving bee, | 185 |
| As He Himselfe hath lov’d us afore-hand, | |
| And bound therto with an eternall band, | |
| Him first to love that was so dearely bought, | |
| And next our brethren, to his image wrought. | |
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| Him first to love great right and reason is, | 190 |
| Who first to us our life and being gave, | |
| And after, when we fared had amisse, | |
| Us wretches from the second death did save; | |
| And last, the food of life, which now we have, | |
| Even He Himselfe, in his dear sacrament, | 195 |
| To feede our hungry soules, unto us lent. | |
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| Then next, to love our brethren, that were made | |
| Of that selfe mould, and that self Maker’s hand, | |
| That we, and to the same againe shall fade, | |
| Where they shall have like heritage of land, | 200 |
| However here on higher steps we stand, | |
| Which also were with selfe-same price redeemed | |
| That we, however of us light esteemed. | |
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| And were they not, yet since that loving Lord | |
| Commanded us to love them for His sake, | 205 |
| Even for His sake, and for His sacred word, | |
| Which in His last bequest He to us spake, | |
| We should them love, and with their needs partake; | |
| Knowing that, whatsoe’er to them we give, | |
| We give to Him by whom we all doe live. | 210 |
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| Such mercy He by His most holy reede | |
| Unto us taught, and to approve it trew, | |
| Ensampled it by His most righteous deede, | |
| Shewing us mercie, (miserable crew!) | |
| That we the like should to the wretches shew, | 215 |
| And love our brethren; thereby to approve | |
| How much Himselfe that loved us we love. | |
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| Then rouze thyselfe, O Earth! out of thy soyle, | |
| In which thou wallowest like to filthy swyne, | |
| And doest thy mynd in durty pleasures moyle, | 220 |
| Unmindfull of that dearest Lord of thyne; | |
| Lift up to Him thy heavie clouded eyne, | |
| That thou this soveraine bountie mayst behold, | |
| And read, through love, His mercies manifold. | |
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| Beginne from first, where he encradled was | 225 |
| In simple cratch, wrapt in a wad of hay | |
| Betweene the toylfull oxe and humble asse, | |
| And in what rags, and in how base aray, | |
| The glory of our heavenly riches lay, | |
| When Him the silly shepheards came to see, | 230 |
| Whom greatest princes sought on lowest knee. | |
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| From thence reade on the storie of His life, | |
| His humble carriage, His unfaulty wayes, | |
| His cancred foes, His fights, His toyle, His strife, | |
| His paines, His povertie, His sharpe assayes, | 235 |
| Through which he past His miserable dayes, | |
| Offending none and doing good to all, | |
| Yet being malist both by great and small. | |
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| And look at last, how of most wretched wights | |
| He taken was, betrayd, and false accused; | 240 |
| How with most scornfull taunts and fell despights | |
| He was revyld, disgrast, and foule abused; | |
| How scourgd, how crownd, how buffeted, how brused; | |
| And lastly, how twixt robbers crucifyde | |
| With bitter wounds through hands, through feet, and syde. | 245 |
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| Then let thy flinty hart, that feeles no paine, | |
| Empierced be with pittifull remorse, | |
| And let thy bowels bleede in every vaine, | |
| At sight of His most sacred heavenly corse, | |
| So torne and mangled with malicious forse; | 250 |
| And let thy soule, whose sins His sorrows wrought, | |
| Melt into teares, and grone in grieved thought. | |
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| With sence whereof, whilest so thy softened spirit | |
| Is inly toucht, and humbled with meeke zeale | |
| Through meditation of His endlesse merit, | 255 |
| Lift up thy mind to th’ Author of thy weale, | |
| And to His soveraine mercie doe appeale: | |
| Learne Him to love that loved thee so deare, | |
| And in thy brest His blessed image beare. | |
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| With all thy hart, with all thy soule and mind, | 260 |
| Thou must Him love, and His beheasts embrace: | |
| All other loves, with which the world doth blind | |
| Weake fancies, and stirre up affections base, | |
| Thou must renounce and utterly displace; | |
| And give thyselfe unto Him full and free, | 265 |
| That full and freely gave Himselfe to thee. | |
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| Then shalt thou feele thy spirit so possest | |
| And ravisht with devouring great desire | |
| Of His dear selfe, that shall thy feeble brest | |
| Inflame with love, and set thee all on fire | 270 |
| With burning zeale, through every part entire, | |
| That in no earthly thing thou shalt delight, | |
| But in His sweet and amiable sight. | |
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| Thenceforth all world’s desire will in thee dye; | |
| And all earthe’s glorie, on which men do gaze, | 275 |
| Seeme durt and drosse in thy pure-sighted eye, | |
| Compar’d to that celestiall beautie’s blaze, | |
| Whose glorious beames all fleshly sense doth daze | |
| With admiration of their passing light, | |
| Blinding the eyes, and lumining the spright. | 280 |
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| Then shall thy ravisht soul inspired bee | |
| With heavenly thoughts, farre above humane skil, | |
| And thy bright radiant eyes shall plainely see | |
| Th’ idee of His pure glorie present still | |
| Before thy face, that all thy spirits shall fill | 285 |
| With sweete enragement of celestiall love, | |
| Kindled through sight of those faire things above. | |
