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And as their ashes, soules conjoyn'd did flye,
Whil'st each for th' other, both for Christ did dye.
Not onely men (whom courage bold doth make)
By conscience prick'd, and by their honour bound,
Nor women fraile, who for each terrour quake,
And cannot see, much lesse endure a wound;
Even children yong did resolution take,
Of paines with parents happy partners found:
That from low grounds may rise a glorious height,
"God by weake meanes most magnifies his might."
What pen can paint, or yet what heart conceive,
When Christians first to plant the gospell toil'd,
To them what trouble Pagans daily gave,
Still banish'd, scourg'd, of place and fortunes spoil'd?
Not suffred to have life, no, nor a grave, [broil'd:
Drown'd, burn'd, beheaded, torne with beasts, and
Their ashes swallow'd, or dispers'd for spite,
As if their being to abolish quite.

Oft that which roaring windes could not have reft,
Some flatter'd by the Sunne have freely left.
There Mylan's glory, whom (by grace rais'd high)
In civill charge the church would needs acquire,
Not suting first, then fayning to deny,

He not the place, the place did him require,
Which when procur'd, he did so well supply,
That his perfection all men did admire:
Who from his church an emp'rour did exclude,
Till by repentance purg'd from guiltlesse bloud.
Bizantium's bishop for true Christian care,
Then all her patriarks may more glory claime,
For eloquence, who exquisitely rare,

A mouth of gold made justly grace his name,
Which taxing sinne, did never person spare,
But even in princes what was ill did blame;
O how this all the world's affection moves,
When eloquence of truth the lanterne proves!

Rome's bishops then with care did keep their flocke, That painfull labourer in the fields of grace,

(A sacrifice to every tyrant's wrath)

Not puffed up presuming of a rock,
But, Peter-like, in teares, in bands, and death,
More strong then he when challeng'd by a cock,
For forfeiting the glory of his faith:

Then mitres now with pompe so proudly borne,
More glorious crownes those martyrs did adorne.
Those pastors then, farre from contentious pride,
All worldly honours did as rocks eschue,
And onely carefull how their flocke to guide,
Not rich, nor haughty, poore, and humble grew;
None striv'd for place, but where to lurke not spy'd,
Whil'st to their charge still martyrdome was due:
Kings' subjects true, though subject to their wrath,
Not torturing others, suffring for the faith.

O treacherous riches, hatching many harmes!
The world's corrupter, though chiefe ground of trust,
Of peace the poyson, daunting men in armes,
The fo le of laws, a tempter to the just,
Nurse of all vice, who can allure with charmes,
Till even the chast (at last for thee) do lust;
The onely bawd who dost abuse each state;
Yet for all this whom none on Earth doth hate.
Thou, riches, thou, thou didst deprave each part,
By which Rome's church had flourish'd first so long,
Empoysoning with pride her bishop's heart,
More weak with God, when with the world grown

strong;

That gift which Constantine was said t' impart,
If forg'd, or true, did make them first go wrong:
A wooden chalice golden priests did use,
A golden chalice wooden priests abuse.
When once grown great, and lords of many lands,
Church-rulers prov'd the cause of shedding bloud;
The Guelphs and Gibilins oft arm'd in bands,
Till on an emp'rour one triumphing stood;
And whil'st a sword flam'd terrour in his hands,
The scorned keyes one drown'd in Tiber's flood:
Not to perswade, but to compell they went,
As earst to save, then how to ruine bent.

But though smooth calmes had blunted many a
Where persecution quickned all before, [minde,
Yet some to zeale, franke gratefulnesse did binde,
Even in these times remisse remark'd the more;
And whil'st by others' foils more bright they shin'd,
Their faith by fruits did (though secure) decore:
VOL. V.

Interpreting the truth, translating right,
Who for his dwelling singled out the place,
Where first our Saviour view'd this changling light;
And of fraile thoughts disturbing fleshly peace,
This judgement last with horrour at the height,
Did apprehend (as marking flaming spheares)
That still Christ's trumpet thundred in his eares.
That mother, whose kinde teares with ardour shed,
Wise Ambrose said could not in vaine be spent,
Here comes her sonne whom with such care she bred,
Much for his body, for his soule more bent;
Through errour's maze long intricately led,
A friend, and she oft urging to repent:
His eare did move his eye to reade these lines,
By which (made famous) his conversion shines.

And thus what travell huge behov'd to be,
Ere this great person to the light was brought?
Who still in toile, the world from harme to free,
Then earst Alcides, with more monsters fought,
Of heresies most horrible to see,

Whose learned workes a full confusion wrought;
And yet of them he did some faults redresse,
Even strong in that, his weakenesse to confesse.
When barbarous Vandals did that place besiege,
Where this rare pastor his attendance gave,
Not able to resist their boundlesse rage,
Who (grosse) such parts as his could not conceive,
To flye their force, he yeelded unto age,
His towne (ere stayn'd) in purity to leave:
Whose happy rule still lasted with his life:
Thus at his funerals teares of force were rife.
Whil'st emulous judgements who but fame affect,
To praise themselves, all others would abate;
And where familiar, leaving due respect,
All what they reach, prize at an easie rate;
In living men, the world doth worth neglect,
Mark'd carelesly, by envy, or by hate:
And they, when gone, are by the world admir'd,
As he was straight when once from hence retir'd.
Thus Hippo's bishop, th' ornament of arts,
Scarce free from stormes, was harbour'd in his port,
When rancour raging in the Arians' hearts,
In Affricke made the Christians' peace but short;
Neare thousands five, dispers'd in sundry parts,
Were after kill'd by cruelties' worst sort:
And some dismembred, yet enjoy'd their breath,
Who (living martyrs) had triumph'd ore death.
Сс

A generall meeting publikely decreed,
As to consult about the churche's state,
Foure hundred fathers joyn'd themselves with speed,
Where doubts did challenge, freely to debate;
Ah! can religion so much mischiefe breed,
As under trust to show the height of hate?
Religion's show, God's bishops did beguile :
Who met for peace, went parting in exile.

Then some were burn'd to terrifie the rest,
Whose banishment their constancy decor'd,
Till that fierce tyrant (Affricke's fatall pest)
For erring Arians fought against the Lord,
And dy'd by vermine, with a stormy brest,
Whil'st (as his minde) his body was abhorr'd:
Thus he like Herod, like to him did end, [attend."
"Such monsters strange, strange judgements doe

Loe, selfe-divisions still the church did marre,
Superfluous knowledge toiling clouds to cleare;
Worse then with Turkes, with Christians, Christians
jarre ;

In levell grounds, all ruptures most appeare,
And each small distance seemes exceeding farre,
In them who (if not joyn'd) are naught, though neare:
Those curious doubts which good men doe eschew,
Make many atheists, and doe better few.

But, vent'rous Muse, a troupe we now must trace,
Prais'd for their rarenesse at the higher rate,
As eminent for parts, as in their place,
Their people's better each way as in state;
Them sovereignty did show, they it did grace,
Not by opinion, but with reason great:
Fraile diadems did earst adorne their brow,
These everlasting are, which decke them now.

Great Constantine, who but commend thee must?
Afflicting furies thou didst soone asswage,
Whom (ere adventring) victory to trust,
A signe in Heaven for surety did engage;
Thou quench'd in Tiber's streames a týrant's lust,
Which did in Rome exorbitantly rage:
And (persecution brought unto an end)
The Christian faith didst first by armes defend.

Though great with power, a stranger still to pride,
By warre prevailing, yet a friend to peace,
He rul'd, not raign'd, world's emperour, no, her guide,
As then with men, now high with God in place;
He for the church (as father) did provide,
And to be gorgeous, brought her from disgrace:
That she who late for feare durst not be seene,
Straight rais'd with pompe, was courted as a queene.

A brave intention bad effects may breed,
And things once good may be deprav'd by time;
This prince, bent to supply the churche's need,
Did taint that purenesse which adorn'd her prime,
And choak'd with surfet, where he sought to feed,
The guiltlesse authour of a casuall crime:

That towne for Christians thus which rear'd he had,
The Turkes'chiefe seate, makes many a Christian sad.

His father once (as heath'nish) did pretend,
That in his campe no Christian more should dwell,
And numbers (straight lest him they should offend)
From their profession impudently fell;
But them who constant were, he did commend,
And from his court the others did expell:

For those whose basenesse all men thus might view, Since false to God, could not to him be true.

Next comes a lady crown'd with glory forth,
Of these first two the mother, and the wife,
Whose birth and vertue did adorne the north,
Where first this ile did give such goodnesse life;
O how great persons doe make worth more worth!
Her zeale in thousands bred a godly strife,
Like Sparta's queene for beauty, and in name,
Not of so great, but of farre better fame.

Devotion at the height, (yet not a sinne)
The scorn'd extreame did come so neare to touch,
That they who follow'd, did fall grosly in;
Thus superstition taught, by zeale grew such,
Which pilgrimage and relicts did begin;
That crosse she found, did since crosse Christ too
much:

Of whose true crosse, we but by suff'ring share,
Here but of wood, her sonnes was drawn in th' ayre.

That emp'rour's sight doth next my thoughts invite, Who was by Ambrose from the church restrain'd, Whil'st once (transported with impetuous spite) His place in time of peace with bloud he stayn'd; Rome's power by parting, who did ruine quite, Though his weake sonnes (when halfe) too much attain'd:

He dy'd in time, whil'st still held good and great,
Ere barbarous squadrons came to crush the state.

That ebbing time can but few emp'rours show,
For piety, or any worth renown'd,
Some servants rose (while as their lords fell low)
Deserving and desiring to be crown'd,
As he who did Alaricus orethrow,

Whose beaten remnant did his hoast confound,
Though victor still, and (save him) wanting none;
So great a moment may depend on one.

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soure,

(Who raign'd in state, oft ending like a beast)
Though image-breakers, foes to papall power,
In whose vast minde, religion's part was least:
Those barb'rous lords whom dying Greece did breed,
Were types of Turkes that after should succeed.

Brave Martell's sonne, great Charles, the pride of
France,

To plague the Pagans heritably borne,
Who over th' Alpes his ensignes did advance,
The German's terrour, the Italian's scorne,
Who from old foes begg'd helpe (what worse could
chance?)

And with new titles did a Gaule adorne:
Ambition here joyn'd two by mutuall hopes,
But since few emp'rours could agree with popes.

That dignity whose virgin flower was due,
To brave commanders, victory to crowne,
Whil'st but in name, and not in essence true,
A Roman relict in a Grecian towne,
They gave it him, (as after did ensue)
That gratefulnesse might godlinesse presse downe:
Yet even when his owne tutor had the seate,
He oft tax'd Rome, which straight grew grosse, when
great.

The next great Christian grac'd by sacred armes,
A glorious plant from the same bounds did spring,
From infidels, who back (by fierce alarmes)
The tombe of Christ and David's throne did bring;
His foes all vanquish'd, and the world's base charmes,
When both by conquest and by choice a king:
He would for state be onely crown'd with thorne,
To him for glory, though given Christ for scorne.

Some else with him whom Heaven's chiefe stamp did
And in their breasts just fury did infuse, [seale,
Not for fraile glory, but enflam'd with zeale, [use,
Who for good ends, warre (man's worst meanes) did
Their praise from fame no treacherous time can
Immortalliz'd by ravish'd Tassoe's muse, [steale,
To crowne their conquest (scorning latter broils)
With stately trophees rear'd of Pagans' spoils.
That towne (a garden long for Heaven's choice
By baptiz'd kings commanded for a space, [flowers)
Was brought to bondage by barbarian powers,
Farre from faire Sion when with God in grace,
Yet once againe to free her stately towers,
The steps of Godfrey sundry striv'd to trace,
With German, English, French, and other bands,
But fail'd in fortune, not in hearts, nor hands.

When purgatory gold enough not gave,
Croisadoes then did holy warres pretend,
And (cosening kingdomes) did franke zeale deceive,
Whil'st publick aymes did maske a private end;
Oft princes thus (that they lesse power might have)
Rome's powerfull threatnings did to Syria send,
Who (jarring still) fear'd their abandon'd states,
Of neighbours jealous, emulous of mates.

But what great conquest could those kings acquire,
To take the crosse whom crosses did constraine,
And not resolv'dly of their owne desire,
As courting glory, or expecting gaine?
Some (whose brave minds conceiv'd a generous ire)
More by their friends, then by their foes in paine,
With shows of vantage gladly did remove;
And all that warre infortunate did prove.

That simple age (rul'd by religious feares)
As priests were pleas'd in every thing did deale,
Who did the grounds of truth from vulgar eares,
(To breed devotion) cunningly conceale,
Thus urging almes, and for each sinne true teares,
Whil'st want of knowledge bred prepost'rous zeale:
Then superstition (lavishly devout)
Not truly worship'd, but did grosly dote.

When minds of light base ignorance depriv'd,
(His beauties grac'd with many foils plac'd neare)
To banish darknesse godly Bernard striv'd,
A starre by night, more eminently cleare,
Not smelling of that age in which he liv'd,
His works were wonders then, and still are deare;

Those whom that doltish time with him brought forth, [worth. He makes their faults seeme worse, they grace his

That dainty towne, the pearle of Arnes rich plains,
A nurcery of good wits, still friend to arts,
Not mother (as one said) of haplesse swaines,
Doth now yeeld three, all prais'd for vertuous parts
The first old Dante (swolne with just disdaines)
To see the errours of corrupted hearts:
Who doth their wayes (a censure) strictly trace,
Yet more then God did make doth grant one place.

The next is one whose brows were crown'd with bayes,
Who (chastly loving) worth did finde or faine,
And (never jealous but of Phoebus' rayes)
His lines (still pure) no sparke of lust could staine,
When marking well of Rome the wandring wayes,
Which in his soule he highly did disdaine.
(lust fury bursting forth, indeed divine)
Her faults (since tax'd) first clearly did designe.

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This stately isle which still for worth excell'd,
The first great bounds which (of itselfe intire)
Both paganisme and popery quite expell'd,
And to perfection alwayes did aspire;
With sacred rage though first some Germans swell'd,'
Here rose the sparke, whence they themselves took
Who clear'd the way to many strugling ones, [fire:
Yet dy'd in peace, though spite did burne his bones.
Straight (boldly building on so solid ground)
From Bohem two for glory are design'd,
With learned Hierome, holy Hus renown'd,
A second Stephen, first martyr of one kinde;
He for that faith which in himselfe was found,
And want in others whom no faith could binde,
For too much goodnesse prov'd a guilty man,
Though call'd a goose, succeeded by a swanne.

Salvation's worke performing as fore-told,
Our great Redeemer offred up his bloud;
And with like inke their blisse doth rest enrold,
To nourish soules with a celestiall food,
Who (when grown strong) the truth so to unfold,
Could but by death make their profession good:
Thus cruelty the foes of Christ doth prove,
And suffring is their badge whom he doth love.

Their severall parts what volume could containe,
Whom (whilst they guiltlesse scorn'd for feare to flie)
French massacres, and Mary's bloudy raigne.
As Christ for them, for Christ did make to dye;
And in all states which did the truth restraine,
The faith of numbers raging flames did try.
Yet naming some, lest silence others wrong,
As now in Heaven, Muse, joyne them in my song.

And martyrs you who bravely march'd before,
Whil'st match'd with moderns do not wrath conceive;
When press'd by Pagans idols to adore,
You chus'd to dye, ere quite your Lord to leave;
These suffred have as much, and aym'd at more,
Who (though they might themselves as Christians
save)

Did dye ere that they would Christ's will transgresse,
In substance, forme, or any way made lesse.

The Levites long a darknesse huge endur'd,
Till that those books which did God's will containe,
When found, and read, a publicke griefe procur'd,
Each soule from sinne divorcing with disdaine;
Even so the truth (which ignorance obscur'd)
Iames (like Iosias) did divulge againe :
But priests of purpose would the gospell hide,
Where priests were glad to get the law for guide.

O happy you whose pennes in nectar steept!
To flye the like, doe draw immortall lines,
Which well deserve in marble to be kept,
Since light enlarg'd by them more clearely shines;
Whil'st all securely cloath'd with darkenesse slept,
Religion's difference quickned good engines,
Which courting knowledge now tosse learned
Not by implicite faith adventring soules. [scroules,

A number, loe, I view made happy here,
Who by their travell, sprituall gold refin'd,
And mysteries, which doubtfull were, made cleere,
Instructing all, confirming many minde,
Not aym'd to others till themselves were neere,
Did leade their flockes, not driv'd, yet stay'd be-
hinde :

Such (as their doctrine) were reputed pure; "Words but direct, example must allure."

Thrice happy those, who now in time beginne,
Themselves first judging, judgement to prevent,
Ere swallow'd quite, opposing horrid sinne
By pale remorse, with inward anguish rent;
As wing'd with winde, houre's ayery glasse doth rinne,
And can no more be turn'd, repent, repent.
That fatall serjeant, Death, spares no degree,
And Heavens straight hast to give their last decree.

DOOMES-DAY;

OR,

THE GREAT DAY OF THE LORD'S IVDGEMENT.

THE TENTH HOURE.

THE ARGUMENT.

To this great court, all come from every land,
T'attend the sentence of their joy or paine,
And straight the blessed and the damned band,
Are here to part, no more to meet againe ;
But first the wicked and the Divell doe stand,
Against Christ's justice grudging to complaine:
Till both are straight transported unto Hell,
Where they together must for ever dwell.

HEAVEN'S Monarch with great majesty doth sit,
His count'nance flaming from a stately throne;
This processe doth no deputy admit,
But he himselfe is iudge of every one;
Due reverence forc'd with circumstances fit,
Whil'st murmuring guiltinesse doth sadly grone,
The bookes of conscience open doe remaine,
And all accuse of that which they containe.

Some seeme not apt to heare by distance made,
(Much place possess'd) when all the world are met,
O! but his voyce (which they even heard when dead)
May to their eares who live soone passage get;
And some would thinke their noyse for feare who
fade,

Should all Heaven's circuit with confusion set:
If from his court each judge can tumult take,
Who order'd order may an order make.

Who can that throne imagine in his minde,
Where starres would be but staines, and terrours
Yet (as in gold a diamond enshrin'd)
[grace?
More glorious he who doth adorne that place;
All darknesse is, which any where hath shin'd,
If match'd with rayes of that majesticke face:
And all to crowne what further can be told?
There God in person his chiefe court doth hold.

This mighty Judge that comes downe from above.
No end at all in any sort can sway;
No intercession can his judgement move,
No advocates defend, no, not delay,
No witnesse wants, nor circumstance to prove,
Time so to gaine, as something were away:

Hence none appeales, nor can revoke when done;
A dome eternall is concluded soone.

The minde a fury, and the thoughts turn'd snakes,
To sting the soule, Hell's ugly monster shakes.

grone,

Large is the count of life (though short) when gone, Those brests like earth-quakes, which rebounding
The parting violent, the passage short,
The judgement bitter, terrible the throne,
Which even from saints a terrour must extort;
Huge are the faults, weake the discharge, else none,
The Iudge is just, which rigour doth import:
A court from whence all goe with God to dwell,
Or with the divels for ever in the Hell.

The harvest's Lord straight takes his fanne in hand,
And fines the fine, thence the refuse doth chase;
The guilty goates are gathered in one band,
The sheepe (as pretious) take apart their place;
The godly all are rang'd at his right hand,
And all the wicked wrap'd in blacke disgrace:
Then from the wheate, the darnell he removes,
A separation which eternall proves.

No shifting here, the processe must be short,
Whereas there needs no proofe, since none deny,
No torture strange confession doth extort,
More fit men's patience, then the truth to try,
Which (joyn'd with conscience) witnesses report,
Whil'st thoughts depose what hid in hearts did lye:
Men, angels, divels, not onely them accuse,
But God against themselves, themselves doth use.
All those who are for endlesse wrath prepar'd,
With, and within themselves (poore wretches) bring
Those witnesses, by which should be declar'd,
All ends, or aymes, each thought, or acted thing,
That (ere examin'd) damned, since despair'd,
Their guilty soules a thousand serpents sting:
Breasts then transparent, hearts are clearely knowne,
And what was hid, to all the world is showne.
That which is clear'd, and by such sure records,
None can impugne, nor controvert in ought;
It were a folly to contest in words, [thought;
(Where deeds doe damne) with him who knowes each
Then wit, nor power, no power to purge affords,
All science else to joyne with conscience brought:
Sinne's deeps long smooth'd (when stirr'd) do ugly
grow,

[ginne,

And toss'd by monsters of themselves ore-flow.
The hoasts of darkenesse with accustom'd gall,
Mindes which they long have smooth'd to tosse be-
And (as their partners) privy unto all,
Cite every circumstance that proves the sinne,
Then urge, and aggravate each forme of fall,
(Since damn'd themselves) so to draw others in:
What refuge (ah) can guilty caitives chuse,
Within whil'st conscience, divels without accuse?
Ere Time, dismiss'd, surrender up his charge,
To cleare old reck'nings, cited at this throne,
Of all earst fayn'd to passe the fatall barge,
He (still a witnesse) tels each action gone,
And like a scroule wrapt up, (which had beene large)
Past, present, future, all contract'd in one,
Straight (so united) straines his dying flight,
Else stayes accomplish'd ever all in sight.
Vaine mortalls' sinnes, in which they pleasure take,
Like mountaines them to crush remembred be,
Which swallow'd sweet, but bitter when spu'd backe,
Breed burning agues, pests of high degree;
So foule a forme, not Styx it selfe could make,
As in minde's glasse the gazing soule doth see:

[spaire,
Charg'd with a monstrous weight, press'd by de-
Where of Hell's horrours, many thousands share:
To driry dungeons would with haste be gone,
It grieves the griev'd to stand, where any one,
Much more where numbers joyfull doe repaire :
Whil'st mock'd by divels, whose slight no more
them blindes,

Their state no helpe, no, nor yet pitty findes.

As theeves, the object of contempt and shame,
Though others prove, and they their crime confesse,
Must stand till some their sentence doe proclaime,
That righted rigour have lawe's power to presse,
So those stain'd troupes whom sinne's black scroules
defame,

Must stay a space to apprehend distresse;
Till all their processe formally be made,
That devills them thence to execution leade.

But whilst pale squadrons shrinke (as pinch'd by
feare)

And would themselves even willingly destroy,
The bands design'd for blisse their courage reare
Farre from each thought that can the soule annoy,
With shouts burst forth the height of heavenly joy;
And (like bright starres triumphing in their spheare)
Not as made happie, or from trouble free,
But ravish'd with delight their Lord to see.

Though sometime foil'd, those still did fight with
Whilst pilgrimes here amidst affliction's field,
[sinne,

And had of faith a diamantine shield,
Which oft was bruis'd, but never entred in;
Their forts they (forc'd) but for a time did yeeld,
To death by covenant, life so to beginne;
Then marching hence with all that was their owne,
Left earth to th' earth, remov'd, but not orethrowne.

At that last conflict confidently bold,
Besides the earnest which they had before,
Then satisfi'd, their surety rests enroll'd,
Free from defects, not to be question'd more,
And (by good angels naughty sprits contrould,
Who seeke their shipwrack, when almost at shoare)
They with the world all worldly troubles leave:
Ere the earth their bodies, Heavens their soules re-

ceave.

Thus (farre from feare of any further ill)
Sweet quiristers enstall'd in state above,
With troupes of angels keeping concord still,
As then their life, so infinite their love;
Now that his worke their maker may fulfill,
Those come rebodied where they first did move;
Not to be judg'd, no, but to be made cleere,
And that in them God's goodnesse may appeare.

And he who most affects the fruits of grace,
Ere forc'd to punish, franke to give reliefe,
Whose clemency of justice takes the place,
As, even for Heaven, held of all vertues chiefe,
He did afford, and doth confirme their peace,
To wicked men the first degree of griefe;
Who marke by them what happinesse they misse,
And weigh their torments by upbrayding blisse.

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