Part 22

Illumine earth with wisdom’s heavenly sight, Make her ambassador to grace the earth; O let her rest by day and lodge by night Within the closure of my body’s hearth! That in her sacred self I may perceive What things are good to take, what ill to leave.

The body’s heat will flow into the face, 11 The outward index of an outward deed; The inward sins do keep an inward place, Eyes, face, mouth, tongue, and every function feed: She is my face; if I do any ill, I see my shame in her repugnant will.

She is my glass, my type, my form, my map, The figure of my deed, shape of my thought, My life’s charàcter, fortune to my hap, Which understandeth all that heart hath wrought; What works I take in hand she finisheth, And all my vicious thoughts diminisheth.

My facts are written in her forehead’s book, 12 The volume of my thoughts, lines of my words; The sins I have she murders with a look, And what one cheek denies, th’ other affords; As white and red, like battles and retreats, One doth defend the blows, the other beats:

So is her furious mood commix’d with smile, Her rod is profit, her correction mirth; She makes me keep an acceptable style, And govern every limit of the earth: Through her the state of monarchy is known, Through her I rule, and guide my father’s throne.

Mortality itself, without repair, 13 Is ever falling feebly on the ground; Submissive body, heart above the air, Which fain would know, when knowledge is not found; Fain would it soar above the eagle’s eye, Though it be made of lead, and cannot fly.

The soul and body are the wings of man; The soul should mount, but that lies drown’d in sin, With leaden spirit, but doth what it can, Yet scarcely can it rise when it is in; Then how can man so weak know God so strong? What heart from thought, what thought from heart hath sprung?

We think that every judgment is alike, 14 That every purpose hath one final end; Our thoughts, alas! are fears, fears horrors strike, Horrors our life’s uncertain course do spend; Fear follows negligence, both death and hell; Unconstant are the paths wherein we dwell.

The hollow concave of our body’s vaults 15 Once laden up with sin’s eternal graves, Straight bursts into the soul the slime of faults, And overfloweth like a sea of waves; The earth, as neighbour to our privy thought, Keeps fast the mansion which our cares have bought.

Say, can we see ourselves? are we so wise? 16 Or can we judge our own with our own hearts? Alas, we cannot! folly blinds our eyes, Mischief our minds, with her mischievous arts: Folly reigns there where wisdom should bear sway, And folly’s mischief bars discretion’s way.

O weak capacity of strongest wit! O strong capacity of weaker sense! To guide, to meditate, unapt, unfit, Blind in perceiving earth’s circumfluence: If labour doth consist in mortal skill, ’Tis greater labour to know heaven’s will.

The toiling spirit of a labouring man 17 Is toss’d in casualties of fortune’s seas; He thinks it greater labour than he can, To run his mortal course without an ease: Then who can gain or find celestial things, Unless their hope[447] a greater labour brings?

What volume of thy mind can then contain Thoughts, words, and works, which God thinks, speaks, and makes, When heaven itself cannot such honour gain, Nor angels know the counsel which God takes? Yet if thy heart be wisdom’s mansion, Thy soul shall gain thy heart’s made mention.

Who can in one day’s space make two day’s toil? 18 Or who in two days’ space will spend but one? The one doth keep his mean in overbroil, The other under mean, because alone: Say, what is man without his spirit sways him? Say, what’s the spirit if the man decays him?

An ill-reformèd breath, a life, a hell, A going out worse than a coming in; For wisdom is the body’s sentinel, Set to guard life, which else would fall in sin; She doth correct and love, sways and preserves, Teaches and favours, rules and yet observes.

CHAP. X.

Correction follows love, love follows hate, 1 For love in hate is hate in too much love; So chastisement is preservation’s mate, Instructing and preserving those we prove: So wisdom first corrects, then favoureth, But fortune favours first, then wavereth.

First, the first father of this earthly world, First man, first father call’d for after-time, Unfashionèd and like a heap was hurl’d, Form’d and reform’d by wisdom out of slime; By nature ill reform’d, by wisdom purer, She mortal life, she better life’s procurer.

Alas, what was he but a clod of clay? 2 What ever was he but an ashy cask? By wisdom clothèd in his best array, If better may be best to choose a task: One gave him time to live, she power to reign, Making two powers one, one power twain.

But, O malign, ill-boding wickedness, 3 Like bursting gulfs o’erwhelming virtue’s seed! Too furious wrath, forsaking happiness, Losing ten thousand joys with one dire deed: Cain could see, but folly struck him blind, To kill his brother in a raging mind.

O too unhappy stroke to end two lives! 4 Unhappy actor in death’s tragedy, Murdering a brother whose name murder gives, Whose slaying action slaughters butchery: A weeping part had earth in that same play, For she did weep herself to death that day.

Water distill’d from millions of her eyes, Upon the long-dried carcass of her time; Her watery conduits were the weeping skies, Which made her womb an overflowing clime: Wisdom preserv’d it, which preserves all good, And taught it how to make an ark of wood.

O that one board should save so many lives, 5 Upon the world’s huge billow-tossing sea! ’Twas not the board, ’twas wisdom which survives, Wisdom that ark, that board, that fence, that bay: The world was made a water-rolling wave, But wisdom better hope’s assurance gave.

And when pale malice did advance her flag Upon the raging standard of despite, Fiend’s sovereign, sin’s mistress, and hell’s hag, Dun Pluto’s lady, empress of the night; Wisdom, from whom immortal joy begun, Preserv’d the righteous as her faultless son.

The wicked perishèd, but they surviv’d; 6 The wicked were ensnar’d, they were preserv’d; One kept in joy, the one of joy depriv’d; One feeding, fed, the other feeding, starv’d: The food which wisdom gives is nourishment, The food which malice gives is languishment.

One feeds, the other feeds, but choking feeds; Two contraries in meat, two differing meats; This brings forth hate, and this repentance’ seeds; This war, this peace, this battles, this retreats: And that example may be truly tried, These liv’d in Sodom’s fire, the other died.

The land will bear me witness they are dead, 7 Which, for their sakes, bear/[s] nothing else but death; The witness of itself with vices fed, A smoky testimony of sin’s breath: This is my witness, my certificate, And this is my sin-weeping sociate.

My pen will scarce hold ink to write these woes, These woes, the blotted inky lines of sin; My paper wrinkles at my sorrow’s shows, And like that land will bring no harvest in: Had Lot’s unfaithful wife been without fault, My fresh-ink’d pen had never call’d her salt.

But now my quill, the tell-tale of all moans, 8 Is savoury bent to aggravate salt tears, And wets my paper with salt-water groans, Making me stick in agonising fears: My paper now is grown to billows’ might; Sometimes I stay my pen, sometimes I write.

O foolish pilot I, blind-hearted guide, Can I not see the clifts,[448] but rent my bark! Must I needs hoist up sails ’gainst wind and tide, And leave my soul behind, my wisdom’s ark? Well may I be the glass of my disgrace, And set my sin in other sinners’ place.

But why despair I? here comes wisdom’s grace, 9 Whose hope doth lead me unto better hap, Whose presence doth direct my fore-run race, Because I serve her as my beauty’s map: Like Cain I shall be restor’d to heaven, From shipwreck’s peril to a quiet haven.

When that by Cain’s hand Abel was slain, 10 His brother Abel, brother to his ire, Then Cain fled, to fly destruction’s pain, God’s heavy wrath, against his blood’s desire; But being fetcht again by wisdom’s power, Had pardon for his deed, love for his lour.

By his repentance he remission had, 11 And relaxation from the clog of sin; His painful labour labour’s riches made, His labouring pain did pleasure’s profit win: ’Twas wisdom, wisdom made him to repent, And newly plac’d him in his old content.

His body, which was once destruction’s cave, Black murder’s territory, mischief’s house, By her these wicked sins were made his slave, And she became his bride, his wife, his spouse; Enriching him which was too rich before, Too rich in vice, in happiness too poor.

Megæra, which did rule within his breast, 12 And kept foul Lerna’s fen within his mind, Both now displease him which once pleas’d him best, Now murdering murder with his being kind; These which were once his friends are now his foes, Whose practice he retorts with wisdom’s blows.

Yet still lie they in ambush for his soul, But he, more wiser, keeps a wiser way; They see him, and they bark, snarl, grin, and howl, But wisdom guides his steps, he cannot stray; By whom he conquers, and through whom he knows The fear of God is stronger than his foes.

When man was clad in vice’s livery, 13 And sold as bondman unto sin’s command, She, she forsook him not for infamy, But freed him from his heart’s imprison’d band; And when he lay in dungeon of despite, She interlin’d his grief with her delight.

Though servile she with him, she was content; 14 The prison was her lodge as well as his, Till she the sceptre of the world had lent, To glad his fortune, to augment his bliss; To punish false accusers of true deeds, And raise in him immortal glory’s seeds.

Say, shall we call her wisdom, by her name, 15 Or new-invent a nominating style, Reciting ancient worth to make new fame, Or new-old hierarchy from honour’s file? Say, shall we file out fame for virtue’s store, And give a name not thought nor heard before?

Then should we make her two, where now but one, Then should we make her common to each tongue: Wisdom shall be her name, she wise alone; If alter old for new, we do old wrong; Call her still wisdom, mistress of our souls, Our lives’ deliverer from our foes’ controls.

To make that better which is best of all, 16 Were to disarm the title of the power, And think to make a raise, and make a fall, Turn best to worst, a day unto an hour; To give two sundry names unto one thing, Makes it more commoner in echo’s sling.

She guides man’s soul, let her be call’d a queen; She enters into man, call her a sprite; She makes them godly which have never been; Call her herself, the image of her might: Those which for virtue plead, she prompts their tongue, Whose suit no tyrant nor no king can wrong.

She stands as bar between their mouth and them; 17 She prompts their thoughts, their thoughts prompt[449] speech’s sound; Their tongue’s reward is honour’s diadem, Their labour’s hire with duest merit crown’d: She is as judge and witness of each heart, Condemning falsehood, taking virtue’s part.

A shadow in the day, star in the night; A shadow for to shade them from the sun, A star in darkness for to give them light, A shade in day, a star when day is done; Keeping both courses true in being true, A shade, a star, to shade and lighten you.

And had she not, the sun’s hot-burning fire 18 Had scorch’d the inward palace of your powers, Your hot affection cool’d your hot desire; Two heats once met make cool-distilling showers; So likewise had not wisdom been your star, You had been prisoner unto Phœbe’s car.

She made the Red Sea subject to your craves, 19 The surges calms, the billows smoothest ways; She made rough winds sleep silent in their caves, And Æol watch, whom all the winds obeys; Their foes, pursuing them with death and doom, Did make the sea their church, the waves their tomb.

They furrow’d up a grave to lie therein, 20 Burying themselves with their own handy deed; Sin digg’d a pit itself to bury sin, Seed ploughèd up the ground to scatter seed: The righteous, seeing this same sudden fall, Did praise the Lord, and seiz’d upon them all.

A glorious prize, though from inglorious hands, A worthy spoil, though from unworthy hearts; Toss’d with the ocean’s rage upon the sands, Victorious gain, gainèd by wisdom’s arts, Which makes the dumb to speak, the blind to see, The deaf to hear, the babes have gravity.

CHAP. XI.

What he could have a heart, what heart a thought, 1 What thought a tongue, what tongue a shew of fears, Having his ship ballass’d with such a fraught, Which calms the ever-weeping ocean’s tears, Which prospers every enterprise of war, And leads their fortune by good fortune’s star?

A pilot on the seas, guide on the land, 2, 3 Through uncouth, desolate, untrodden way, Through wilderness of woe, which in woes stand, Pitching their tents where desolation lay; In just revenge encountering with their foes, Annexing wrath to wrath, and blows to blows.

But when the heat of overmuch alarms 4 Had made their bodies subject unto thirst, And broil’d their hearts in wrath-[450]allaying harms, With fiery surges which from body burst, That time had made the total sum of life, Had not affection strove to end the strife.

Wisdom, affectionating power of zeal, Did cool the passion of tormenting heat With water from a rock, which did reveal Her dear, dear love, plac’d in affection’s seat; She was their mother twice, she nurs’d them twice, Mingling their heat with cold, their fire with ice.

From whence receiv’d they life, from a dead stone? 5 From whence receiv’d they speech, from a mute rock? As if all pleasure did proceed from moan, Or all discretion from a senseless block; For what was each but silent, dead, and mute? As if a thorny thistle should bear fruit.

’Tis strange how that should cure which erst did kill, Give life in whom destruction is enshrin’d; Alas, the stone is dead, and hath no skill! Wisdom gave life and love, ’twas wisdom’s mind; She made the store which poisonèd her foes, Give life, give cure, give remedy to those.

Blood-quaffing Mars, which wash’d himself in gore, 6 Reign’d in her foes’ thirst slaughter-drinking hearts; Their heads the bloody store-house of blood’s store, Their minds made bloody streams disburs’d in parts: What was it else but butchery and hate, To prize young infants’ blood at murder’s rate?

But let them surfeit on their bloody cup, 7 Carousing to their own destruction’s health, We drink the silver-streamèd water up, Which unexpected flow’d from wisdom’s wealth; Declaring, by the thirst of our dry souls, How all our foes did swim in murder’s bowls.

What greater ill than famine? or what ill 8 Can be comparèd to the fire of thirst? One be as both, for both the body kill, And first brings torments in tormenting first: Famine is death itself, and thirst no less, If bread and water do not yield redress.

Yet this affliction is but virtue’s trial, Proceeding from the mercy of God’s ire; To see if it can find his truth’s denial, His judgment’s breach, attempts contempt’s desire: But O, the wicked sleeping in misdeed, Had death on whom they fed, on whom they feed!

Adjudg’d, condemn’d, and punish’d in one breath, 9 Arraign’d, tormented, tortur’d in one law; Adjudg’d like captives with destruction’s wreath, Arraign’d like thieves before the bar of awe; Condemn’d, tormented, tortur’d, punishèd, Like captives bold, thieves unastonishèd.

Say God did suffer famine for to reign, And thirst to rule amongst the choicest heart, Yet, father-like, he eas’d them of their pain, And prov’d them how they could endure a smart; But, as a righteous king, condemn’d the others, As wicked sons unto as wicked mothers.

For where the devil reigns, there, sure, is hell; 10 Because the tabernacle of his name, His mansion-house, the place where he doth dwell, The coal-black visage of his nigrum[451] fame; So, if the wicked live upon the earth, Earth is their hell, from good to worser birth.

If present, they are present to their tears; If absent, they are present to their woes; Like as the snail, which shews all that she bears, Making her back the mountain of her shews: Present to their death, not absent to their care, Their punishment alike where’er they are.

Why, say they mourn’d, lamented, griev’d, and wail’d, 11 And fed lament with care, care with lament; Say, how can sorrow be with sorrow bail’d, When tears consumeth that which smiles hath lent? This makes a double prison, double chain, A double mourning, and a double pain.

Captivity, hoping for freedom’s hap, At length doth pay the ransom of her hope, Yet frees her thought from any clogging clap, Though back be almost burst[452] with iron’s cope; So they endur’d the more, because they knew That never till the spring the flowers grew;

And that by patience cometh heart’s delight, 12 Long-sought-for bliss, long-far-fet[453] happiness; Content they were to die for virtue’s right, Sith[454] joy should be the pledge of heaviness: When unexpected things were brought to pass, They were amaz’d, and wonder’d where God was.

He whom they did deny, now they extol; He whom they do extol, they did deny; He whom they did deride, they do enroll In register of heavenly majesty: Their thirst was ever thirst, repentance stopt it; Their life was ever dead, repentance propt it.

And had it not, their thirst had burn’d their 13 hearts, Their hearts had cried out for their tongues’ reply, Their tongues had raisèd all their bodies’ parts, Their bodies, once in arms, had made all die: Their foolish practices had made them wise, Wise in their hearts, though foolish in their eyes.

But they, alas! were dead, to worship death, Senseless in worshipping all shadow’d shows, Breathless in wasting of so vain a breath, Dumb in performance of their tongues’ suppose: They in adoring death, in death’s behests, Were punishèd with life and living beasts.

Thus for a shew of beasts they substance have, 14 The thing itself against the shadow’s will, Which makes the shadows, sad woes in life’s grave, As nought impossible in heaven’s skill: God sent sad Ohs for shadows of lament, Lions and bears in multitudes he sent:

Newly created beasts, which sight ne’er saw, 15 Unknown, which neither eye nor ear did know, To breathe out blasts of fire against their law, And cast out smoke with a tempestuous blow; Making their eyes the chambers of their fears, Darting forth fire as lightning from the spheres.

Thus marching one by one, and side by side, 16 By the profane, ill-limn’d, pale spectacles, Making both fire and fear to be their guide, Pull’d down their vain-adoring chronicles; Then staring in their faces, spit forth fire, Which heats and cools their frosty-hot desire:

Frosty in fear, unfrosty in their shame, Cool in lament, hot in their power’s disgraces; Like lukewarm coals, half kindled with the flame, Sate white and red mustering within their faces: The beasts themselves did not so much dismay them, As did their ugly eyes’ aspècts decay them.

Yet what are beasts, but subjects unto man, 17 By the decree of heaven, degree of earth? They have more strength than he, yet more he can, He having reason’s store, they reason’s dearth; But these were made to break subjection’s rod, And shew the stubbornness of man to God.

Had they not been ordain’d to such intent, God’s word was able to supplant their powers, And root out them which were to mischief bent, With wrath and vengeance, minutes in death’s hours; But God doth keep a full, direct, true course, And measures pity’s love with mercy’s force.

The wicked think[455] God hath no might at all, 18 Because he makes no show of what he is, When God is loath to give their pride a fall, Or cloud the day wherein they do amiss; But should his strength be shewn, his anger rise, Who could withstand the sun-caves of his eyes?

Alas, what is the world against his ire! 19 As snowy mountains ’gainst the golden sun, Forc’d for to melt and thaw with frosty fire, Fire hid in frost, though frost of cold begun: As dew-distilling drops fall from the morn, So n[e]w destruction’s claps fall from his scorn.

But his revenge lies smother’d in his smiles, 20 His wrath lies sleeping in his mercy’s joy, Which very seldom rise at mischief’s coils, And will not wake for every sinner’s toy: Boundless his mercies are, like heaven’s grounds, They have no limits they, nor heaven no bounds.

The promontory-top of his true love Is like the end of never-ending streams, Like Nilus’ water-springs, which inward move, And have no outward shew of shadows’ beams: God sees, and will not see, the sins of men, Because they should amend: amend! O when?

The mother loves the issues of her womb, 21 As doth the father his begotten son; She makes her lap their quiet-sleeping tomb, He seeks to care for life which new begun: What care hath He, think, then, that cares for all, For agèd and for young, for great and small!

Is not that father careful, fill’d with care, Loving, long-suffering, merciful, and kind, Which made with love all things that in love are, Unmerciful to none, to none unkind? Had man been hateful, man had never been, But perish’d in the spring-time of his green.

But how can hate abide where love remains? 22 Or how can anger follow mercy’s path? How can unkindness hinder kindness’ gains? Or how can murder bathe in pity’s bath? Love, mercy, kindness, pity, either’s mate, Do[456] scorn unkindness, anger, murder, hate.

Had it not been thy will to make the earth, 23 It still had been a chaos unto time; But ’twas thy will that man should have a birth, And be preserv’d by good, condemn’d by crime: Yet pity reigns within thy mercies’ store, Thou spar’st and lov’st us all; what would we more?

CHAP. XII.

When all the elements of mortal life 1 Were placèd in the mansion of their skin, Each having daily motion to be rife,[457] Clos’d in that body which doth close them in, God sent his holy Spirit unto man, Which did begin when first the world began:

So that the body, which was king of all, 2 Is subject unto that which now is king, Which chasteneth those whom mischief doth exhale, Unto misdeeds from whence destructions spring: Yet merciful it is, though it be chief, Converting vice to good, sin to belief.

Old time is often lost in being bald, 3 Bald, because old, old, because living long; It is rejected oft when it is call’d; And wears out age with age, still being young: Twice children we, twice feeble, and once strong; But being old, we sin, and do youth wrong.