Mary Astell (1666–1731) was an English writer, who was born in
Newcastle upon Tyne, but moved to London and pursued a literary career.
Her advocacy of women's education has labelled her a protofeminist, which is
something she would never have thought of. Her poems were all written
when she was young.
THE
INVITATION
28 June 1683
I
Come Muse, and leave those wings that soar
No further than an earthly flight;
Let us the God of heav'n implore
And tune our notes aetherial height;
Heav'n thy Parnassus be, thence learn thy song;
The Saviour's side shall be thy Helicon.
II
Hark how He calls, Come unto Me
All that are weary and opprest,
My service is true libertie,
My bosom an eternal rest.
With open arms He begs for thee to come;
Make haste my soul, leave all and thither run.
III
Wipe the blind eyes darkened with tears,
From all but penitential ones,
Harbour only religious fears,
And for thy sins keep all thy groans;
Then He who never lets us sigh in vain,
Will turn to brightest joy thy grief and pain.
IV
Teach every word to chant His praise
And every verse to sing His love;
His crown of thorns shall be thy bays,
His cross shall be thy shady grove,
Which shall at last be to a kingdom blown,
And thy sharp bays will sprout into a crown.
In emulation of Mr Cowley's poem called the motto page I
What shall I do? Not to be rich or great,
Not to be courted and admired,
With beauty blest, or wit inspired,
Alas! These merit not my care and sweat,
These cannot my ambition please,
My high born soul shall never stoop to these;
But something I shall be that's truly great
In'ts self, and not by vulgar estimate.
If this low world were always tho remain,
If the old philosophers were in the right,
Who would not then, with ask their might
Study and strive to get themselves a name?
Who would in soft repose like down,
Pitt value ease like being better known?
But since Fame's trumpet has so short a breath,
Shall we be fond of that which must submit to death?
Nature permits bout me the common way,
By setting court, or state, to gain
That so much valued trifle fame;
Not do I covet in wit's realm to sway:
But O ye bright illustrious few,
What shall I do to be like some of you?
Whom this misjudging world does underprize
Yet are most dear inn heaven's all-righteous eyes!
How shall I be a Peter off a Paul?
That to the Turk and infidel,
I might the joyful tidings tell,
And spare no labour to convert them all:
But ah my sex denies me this,
And Mary's privilege I cannot wish,
Yet hark I hear might blessed Saviour say,
They are more blessed who His word obey.
Up then my suggests soul, Labour and pray,
For if with love enflamed thou be,
Thy Jesus shall be born in thee,
And by thy ardent prayer, thou canst make way,
For their conversion whom thou may'st not teach,
Yet by a good example always preach:
And though I want a persecuting fire,
I'll be at least a martyr in desire.
ENEMIES
18 March 1683
I
I love you who the world calls enemies,
You are my virtue's exercise,
The useful furnace to refine
My dross, the oil that makes my armour shine.
II
Nay, you're the best of men because you are
The truest friends, though this appear
A paradox to them who seem
The only men of wit and of esteem;
III
Who measure friendship by the rule of power,
And love him best who has most store;
Who prostitute that sacred name,
Unto the partners of their sin and shame.
IV
Yet if the merits of a friend be weighed,
His worth in a just balance laid,
Light flattery will blow away,
And just reproof will all the rest out-weigh.
V
But a friend's loving eyes are sometimes blind,
And will not any blemish find,
Or if a secret ulcer they espy
They'll sooner balsam than sharp wine apply.
VI
Kind monitors you tell me of my faults,
Your spurs correct and mend my halts,
With cleansing physic purge my mind,
That no crude humours may remain behind.
VI
Meekness would lose her vast inheritance
If you were not the evidence;
You bring to light our charity,
Without you we would but half Christians be.
VII
Best benefactors! let earth's children pray
For those who give them loads of clay,
Who puff their bubbles, I'll for you
Implore, and think it God-like so to do.
AMBITION 30 March 1684
I
What's this that with such vigour fills my brest?
Like the first mover finds no rest,
And with it's force dos all things draw,
Makes all submit to its imperial Law!
Sure 'tis a spark 'bove what Prometheus stole,
Kindled by a heav'nly coal,
Their sophistry I can controul,
Who falsely say that women have no Soul.
II
Vile Greatness! I disdain to bow to thee,
Thou art below ev'n lowly me,
I wou'd no Fame, no Titles have,
And no more Land than what will make a grave.
I scorn to weep for Worlds, may I but reign
And Empire o're my self obtain,
In Caesars throne I'de not sit down,
Nor wou'd I stoop for Alexanders Crown.
III
Let me obscured be, & never known.
Or pointed at about the Town,
Short winded Fame shall not transmit
My name, that the next Age may censure it:
If I write Sense no matter what they say,
Whither they call it dull, or pay
A rev'rence such as Virgil claims,
Their breath's infectious, I have higher aims.
IV
Mean spirited men! that bait at Honour, Praise,
A Wreath of Laurel or of Baies,
How short's their Immortality!
But Oh a Crown of Glory ne're will die!
This I'me Ambitious of, no pains will spare
To have a higher Mansion there,
There all are Kings, here let me be,
Great O my God, Great in Humilitie.
SOLITUDE Sept 8 1684
I
Now I with generous Cowley see
This trifling world and I shall ne'er agree.
Nature in business me no share affords,
And I no business find in empty words:
I dare not all the morning spend
To dress my body, and not lend
A minute to my soul, nor can think fit,
To sell the jewel for the cabinet.
II
My unpolished converse ladies fly,
'Twill make you still, I have no railery,
I cannot learn the fashionable art,
To laugh at sin, and censure true desert.
Alas I no experience have,
With might weak eyes to make a slave,
Not an I practiced in that amorous flame,
Which has so long usurped love's sacred name.
III
No satisfaction can I find
In balls and revelling, my thinking mind,
Can't reconcile them with a mournful spirit,
Not with the solid comfort they'll inherit
Who here love sorrow; compliment
I am as guiltless of as paint,
No fucus for my mind or face I use,
Not am acquainted with the modern muse.
IV
O happy solitude, may I
My time with thee, and some good books employ!
No idle visits rob me of an hour,
No impertinents those precious drops devour.
Thus blest, I shall while here below
Antedate heaven, did monarchs know
What 'tis with God and cherubims to dwell,
With Charles they'd leave their empires for a cell.
DEATH
I
It was a glorious and a cheerful day,
When nature in its primitive beauty lay,
Fresh and new fall’n from the all powerful word,
Of its most bounteous Lord;
‘Twas all a paradise, no poisonous weed
Sprung up, no hurtful beast did breed,
No gold was seen, that seed of hate,
Of murther, villainy, debate;
The vine did cheer but not intoxicate:
The harmless elements did not then conspire
Against their Maker’s viceroy, he might dwell
Secure, nor man, nor beast knew to rebel;
Water could quench not drown, and fire
Mild as the morning sun,
Knew how to warm but not to burn:
No bustling winds did roar,
Nor foaming seas assault the shore,
Innocent nature meant no I’ll,
Nor milk, nor wine, nor figs knew how to kill;
Mirth had no sting, nor laughter carried death,
No ecstasies of joy did stop the breath;
There no oppressors we’re, nor mournful cry
To drown the universal melody;
The strong did not devour the weak,
None did the sacred laws of nature break;
But every species His due praises sung,
From whose enlivening word all the creation sprung.
II
Thrice happy man had nothing else to do,
But the most grateful business to persue,
To love and praise that God who made him be,
On purpose to enjoy felicitie.
But what can keep that wretched man from ill,
Who will be miserable because he will?
What can that lawless appetite suffice,
Who longs for nothing but what heaven denies?
Is't possible that he should happy be,
Who less esteemed the world than one forbidden tree?
But sure unjustly we cry out of this,
'Twas great and brave, he did not do amiss,
Or if he did why do we foolishly
Strive his folly to out-vie?
And with far less excuse repeat his fault!
When none else can our happiness assault,
And Satan's self can but entice,
Unable to compel us to a vice;
Like Adam valiantly we shut our eyes,
And our own hands in getters ties,
We like stout champions throw out arms away,
Quarrel with Him that would our ruin stay;
Dear nothing more than not to be o'ercome,
And above all desire to be undone!
III
Besotted man! Not one full day
Would he the easy law obey,
He would be great, and it takes the ready way,
And throws himself below
The meanest beast, that at his feet did lately bow!
(For tell me did you ever know
The way to greatness yet?
How he that can for that mean thing be fit,
Must first to every sordid art submit?)
Vain man! He would be wise, he fain would know
Which is the readiest way to woe,
He wants to know the blessing he has lost,
What a prodigious price his folly cost!
And to be sure of immortality,
He next resolves to eat the fruit and die!
'Tis done: now too late he must confess,
All he has gained is only nakedness,
Did he for this felicity forsake?
But such a purchase sinners always make!
Methinks I see the sun abscond his beams,
As lights go out when hurtful shades appear,
Roses go pale, and lions shake for fear,
Nature inverted now does all things fill
With discord, barrenness, and ill,
And monstrous sin her cursed offspring teams,
Polluted earth groans deep,and wanted breath
To bear the heavy load of sin and death.
IV
Turn, turn, my muse, turn from this dismal story,
And lift thy eyes up to the King of glory;
The second Adam who too climbed the tree,
Yet not to lose, but gain felicity.
He wiped death's clammy face,
Decked it with beauties grace,
And made it now a blessed thing,
Left us the honey, took Himself the sting.
'Tis now no more an infelicity,
Since Christ Himself did once vouchsafe to die;
But a short passage to eternal joy,
A happy period to our misery.
Wished by th' afflicted, to the good man dear,
Which only wicked men need fear.
When the false dress that we have put it in,
The pomp of funerals, and the sting of sin,
Are done away, death is an easy thing.
Nature 's best gift, the end of strife,
Preferable in all before this mortal life:
For there the wicked son no more,
Note add new reckonings tho their score;
The mighty and the mean together sleep,
None at uneasy distance keep;
For all are equal in the grave,
The poor no want, the rich no satiety have.
Nay, we but death a privilege obtain
Which the best man alive can barely gain;
No caterpillars in the grave are bred,
Not envy's self will prey upon the dead;
None but the very dregs of malice will,
Disturb the sacred dead with speaking ill.
V
I happy death! 'Tis thou that sets us free
From our insulting passion's tyranny.
Falsely we call thee blind, since we
Through thee a blest cessation find,
From those false senses which did truly blind,
And errors that imposed upon our mind.
We're slaves and bondmen all,
But our vile bodies kept in thrall,
Till death does kindly all our hands untie,
We then begin too love when we are said to die.
Best refuge death! No persecuting arm
When we are fled to thee can do is harm;
Thou final period off a tyrants lust
Like china dishes in the dust,
The bodies of the righteous lie,
Too be refined for immortality:
Who would not trust thee faithful grave?
Since with such interest he shall hav e
His body back again
Free from sin and free from strain,
What we in weakness and dishonest sow,
Shall up again in strength and glory grow.
VI
Let them be fond of life, and loathe to die,
Who value time before eternity;
Short sighted men!who can this poor abode
Prefer before the presence of their God.
O life how bitter would st thou be,
How unacceptable to me,
With how much pain should I retain this breath,
Did I not know 'Tis a short way to death.
'Tis a short way that all have gone before,
And ask that come behind must traverse o'er;
For even those few whom the last trump shall call,
When they perhaps are in the camp, or court,
Off in the shop, or in the hall,
Minding their business or their sport;
These must be changed e'er they can come to bliss,
And death itself is nothing more than this:
'Tis but a change what we a dying call,
Which from our birth till our last sand be run,
Is imperceptibly a coming on.
VII
Who would not wish to have his happiness
Secured from all disturbances;
But does he think that power or riches can,
Make him a firmly happy man?
Alas tis only death that can do this!
How do we see the wealthy, and the great,
Thrown from their gay and towering seat,
How oft do they survive their bliss!
On such a pinnacle they cannot stand,
Till death does gently take them by the hand.
For he's the man has most felicity,
Who does not drink, but taste the enchanted cup,
And when his fortune's at the height gives up,
Widely withdrawing in due time tho die.
Yet Lord with what a wondrous care,
Do we get behold men building houses here!
Purchasing titles,laying land to land,
As if secure from death's well-aiming hand!
And but a lying elegy,
Think to procure an immortality;
Death laughs at all their pride,
And dogged their busy idleness deride,
Wonders that all this while they should neglect,
The only way still their desires to effect;
The certain way an endless life to gain,
And victory over death himself obtain.
VIII
How happy it would be for everyone,
To mind no other business but his own!
That proper natural work which God designed,
When He endowed us with a reasonable mind:
'Twas His intent we should ourselves employ,
This mind to tend and cultivate,
And in this time of trial to prepare,
For that most blest and perfect state,
In which He has deposited that joy,
Which we in vain do seek for here;
A s wisely might we sow
Wheat in the sea, and look for harvest there,
Or cast out hooks into the air,
Or in the fire enquire for snow,
As seek for happiness on earth,
'Tis not of this world's growth ,'tis of another birth.
But if we never look on high,
If we on things below our time employ,
And here set up our rest, and her expect our joy,
No wonder if we be afraid to die.
Oh death how dost thou make him grieve,
Who does at rest in his possessions live!
With what surprise,
Dost thou on that poor moral seize,
Who looked on thee as some far distant thing,
And fancied many years 'twixt death and him!
IX
Happy is he that can with pleasure day,
I'm not afraid to die today.
Who buy oft thinking on this kingI
Of terrors, makes it none to him.
He fears no danger, dreads no pain,
A tyrants threatenin vs doth disdain;
Knows that his malice can no further go,
Than tho the grave, and do what time e'er long must do.
Or death, or sleep's tho him the same,
Life is his trouble, death his hope and gain;
Though he may suffer here he knows he shall hereafter reign.
Ah Blessed Lord! Might I be such a one,
I'd envy none that suits upon a throne.
From being such a one what hinders me,
If I but use becoming industry:
God's grace is still the same, and we might rise
Unto the primitive excellencies,
Would we revive the zeal by which they went,
And not with lower measures be content.
Youth and good hours I will not idly lose,
But make of them a proper use;
That even this poor mean I may welcome make
That death which makes the great ones fear and quake.
For O my God to me,
Pitt life off death indifferent shall be,
Nay I love just so long as pleaseth Thee.
This only grant, that while I live I may
Lay up for that expensive day,
Lest, if I now neglect to hear
Those calls, and those kind invitations Thou
Vouchsafe s to me, sends lose this happy now,
A sad and dismal time should come,
When Thou my God wilt shut thine ear;
'Twill be too late tho love when life is done,
Nor must a Christian's warfare be begun,
At that late hour when he should bring his trophies home.
JUDGMENT
I
'Tis said: the sacred word it's past,
And the long looked for safety ours come set last.
The party coloured day,
Composed of mirth and sadness, joy and tears,
On this side hope, on that side fears,
Justice and mercy both themselves display.
The dreadful flame is kindled now,
Which must refine all things below,
Stay advance you'll see a phoenix from the ashes grow.
But try first if you can sustain
The terror and the amazing noise,
The terror of the Almighty's voice;
Can you behold the aspiring flame?
Which mounts and crackles as it goes,crackles
And swallows everything that date oppose.
When all beneath, above, and round about you's fire,
Tell me where will you retire?
Have you erected in your breast,
A cool and shady place of rest,
Does a good consciences flourish there?
Then happy man what can you fear!
Hrak, hark, I hear the dreadful trumpet call,
Come away all;
Make haste and rise,
This is the reckoning day the grand assize:
'Tis vain to plead excuses now,
None of the lawyer's quirks will do,
And they who always lived in subtilty,
Must now as naked be as you and I.
II
Behold in heaven the glorious sign,
No more scandal, now 'tis all divine.
The dazzling throne's already placed,
And saints and angels tho the triumph haste.
But above all, with the greedy eyes behold
The Judge Himself, see how He shines,
Not with so mean a thing as gold,
Our lustre borrowed from the sparkling mines;
But with His own refulgent beams,
Which like new worlds of light about Him streams,
And circle round the sacred company,
Who in this glorious dress,
Like stars shine round the Son of righteousness.
What pomp of language can suffice to show,
The mighty splendour of this solemn day!
Too weak's my pen, my fancy much too low,
In lively colours to display,
The wonders that about it throng,
Too great, too many, for a mortal song!
'Tis will we then shall be
Refined morality,
Such lustre is too bright for human eye:
The sun himself amazed at such a sight,
Flies to put out his shamed and now unuseful light.
III
Summon the assembly, let the books be spread,
Call the living and the dead.
See, some bright soul s already flown above,
Drawn by the powerfulest attractive love.
But who are these who tarry here?
The guilty sure, for guilt is always dogged by fear.
Poor souls where would you fly!
The mountains cannot veil you from that eye
Which saw through all those little arts you used,
To hide your sins in dark obscurity,
'Twas your own selves you cheated and abused,
He knows it all and you in vain deny.
What were you doing all this while?
'Tis now too late to go and purchase oil.
You who so long in dust have lain,
As you descended there so must you rise again.
IV
Come ye beloved off the Father near,
Since Jesus is your judge why should you fear?
JESUS, who has Himself been clothed with flesh,
Knows the infirmities of such a dress,
And pitied them; Hee will not be severe,
With those who though but weak, were yet sincere.
Tis time your innocence should be
Reduced from their obloquy,
Whom you just loves did secretly upbraid,
By showing what they should have done:
You who could never be afraid
To act as virtue bid, inn the worst times,
Come forth and let them see,
That virtue id's the only policy:
Alas their subterfuges now are gone,
And all their little arts are useless grown!
We have no laurels here for prosperous crimes.
Now providence her vindication makes,
And laughs at all those poor mistakes
Fond men were guilty of, when they applied,
Her approbation to the prosperous side.
V
Ye sacred tribe come to the highest seat,and
Though some ill men despised you God thinks meet,
That thou should know the highest honour given,
To those whose business was to people heaven.
Ye glorious twelve who led the way,
And to us all revealed the blessed day,
Mount to your thrones and let your successors,
Who followed you,ascend to theirs:
Such as great Athanasius was,
Who like a mighty bulwark stopped the tide,
When all men else did with the current slide;
The well-backed error could not pass
With him, who measured truth not by the vote,
But by that sacred rule, which shall
Stand firm when men's weak reasonings with their interest fall.
Old fashioned man! who straight made coat,
Fitted himself but not the times, for he
Preferred despised truth, before applauded novelty.
VI
See, how those generous souls who never could,
For worldly interest part with virtue's greater good,
Amongst the confessors and martyrs stand;
Bright should, they eagle like did rise,
Above the sight of vulgar eyes,
And now their enemies shall do them right,
Now virtue stands in its just proper light.
These are the men you sinners used to brand,
With names of humorous and obstinate;
Can men how idly did you prate!
Just so we see dogs barking at the moon,
Could we their language understand,
W certainly should hear what names they call,
How in their cynic rhetoric bawl,
And say she shines too bright or shines too soon;
While all the fault is only this,
Above and out of reach she is.
And ye too O ye shining stars!
Ye champions with your honourable scars,
Ye men of paradox, to whom
Prisons do palaces become.
Could you in beds of flame note pleasure find,
Than in a bed of roses dipped in dew?
Alas they're not so sweet, they're not so fair as you,
Had you not suffered you had never shined.
He that can for a radiant crown be fit,
Must by the cross arrive at it:
Labour and sufferings are the way to rest,
And he most triumphs who can conquer best.
VII
And ye Thebean legion, though ye could
Have saved or dearly sold your blood,
Were no vain prodigals to let it tamely fall,
When heaven did loudly for your passive valour call.
(Passive obedience always due
To God and His viceregents too!
Tis easy to serve heaven
With that which costs us nought, but he that can
Conquer by suffering is the valiant man.
Tis passive valour which the difference makes,
By it the true distinction’s given,
Between the fury of a beast,
And courage of a man, whose generous breast,
Unprejudiced with weak mistakes,
Full of right notions, tells him the best blood
Runs in His noble veins, who would
Rather than do one evil suffer all,
And ne’er please nature’s laws when heaven does call.
Mahomet’s followers may
With swords and pistol make their way,
Jesus, the Prince of peace, did never mean,
His Christians should with other arms be seen,
Than prayers and tears, despises prayers and tears,
Which cannot stop the jealousies and fears,
Of those short-sighted men, who never knew,
What they with faith and patience joined can do.
VIII
Ye heavenly lilies, human angels, ye
Who out of choice and not necessity,
Let the world drop and from it stole,
To offer up your selves entire and whole,
A virgin body with a virgin soul
To your dear Spouse; you were all heaven before,
And now can be but little more;
Prayer was your food, and praises your delight,
No sour moroseness drew you from the sight
Of mortals, but a noble pride to be
Always in heavenly company:
Here’sa peculiar coroner for you,
This Jesus your dear Spouse declares your due.
See Joseph come, clad all in white,
And with him those fair sons of light,
Who for the beatific sight
Preserved their eyes, they knew the subtle art,
That beauty has to gain a heart,
How he that parlies is half overcome,
And he that gives consent is whole undone.
And yet too, temperate souls, who kept your taste
For pleasure that can never waste,
The most delicious dish is here,
Feed on it, satiety you need not fear,
The righteousness you hungered for is now your cheer.
IX
Here Abr’am father of the faithful stands,
And by him all those numerous bands,
Those who looked up to heaven to find their way,
Whom golden apples could not stay,
Not terrors turn from the right course;
Not all the various snare betray,
Which with United policy and force,
The devil, world and flesh before them lay.
The world shall laugh at you no more,
For making heaven your place of store,
Who has an interest there can ne’er be poor.
Faith without works is dead, but here you may
See those wise souls, who knew the certain way
To keep that wealth which has so sweet a wing,
Was not by hoarding but distributing:
They knew that Jesus the best debtor was,
He’d give them crowns for pebbles, gold for brass,
What to the poor they grace for Jesus’ sake,
A done unto Himself they knew He’d take.
What’s of those mighty sums become,
Which were laid out in sin and vanity?
Now is the worldling’s traffic done,
And charity takes all the usury!
X
Come worthy souls, come and that praise receive,
Which thou would ne'er accept when men did give.
Proud humble man, who would not be
Pleased with the praises of mortality.
Was it or pride or modesty in you
Who would be praised by all and not a few?I
Durst not your fame to men's short tongues expose,
Let whilst you got their praise you should a greater lose.
No longer shall your piety be hid,
Not all those virtuous acts which you in private did:
Jesus the great Panegyrist shall raise
His glorious voice too give you praise;
You who contentedly could suffer shame,
Of loss or anything for His dear Name,
Who suffered with Him once now with Him reign.
You blessings tho mankind, while they
In public sinned, you did in private pray,
And God's avenging hand delay.
Come now and judge those base ungrateful men,
Who did your good with injuries repay,
They were the only persons then,
But you're the wise and theft the fools today:
Their hopes and joys like dust away are driven,
But yours can never fail for they are fixed in heaven.
XI
What are those should which now like diamonds shine?
Diamonds we know through anvils pass,
Polished but that which breaks the counterfeiting glass,
And these through suffering came to be divine.
Job leads them on, the Prince of patience he,
Armed with his tough integrity,
The only cost of mail, that can
Against all hurtful ills defend a man.
See how behind them they in triumph bring,
Harmless and without a sting,
Poverty, pain, disgrace and all
What thou mistaken men affliction call.
Bring forth the bottles of their tears,
Those pearly drops which Grace their crown,
And let the number of their sighs be known,
A plaudit give for every one.
But who is this that next appears?
'Tis Moses sure, and with him all
Those noble should who though they had a gall,
Tempered out so that they could never be
Provoked beyond the rules of decency.
Who does not mix with dross that ore
Was given him pure does well, but that he can
Though cumbered with the frailties of a man,
Love like a God does somewhat more.
Ye who are still to learn, come see
Who 'tis receives a true indignity;
Not he that can pass by,
But he that doth resent an injury.
XII
O what a noble sight is here,
How all the saints of heaven appear!
Those who made Good their joy, their hope, their fear.
Here stands the innocent;
And there the penitent,
Who with a double diligence repay,
What they had lost of virtue's day.
See here the faithful, and the just,
Men who are only fit to trade with heaven,
Their way so strait, their purposes so even.
And here are they,
Who could in greatest exigencies trust
That God to bring them out, who led them in;
Though He a while might turn His face away,
They knew ere long it would be day,
And nothing feared but the dark night of sin.
Blest men who always had their will,
For unto God’s theirs was resigned still:
Heaven was beforehand in their breast,
So peaceful, sweet and much at rest,
For there content has built her halcyon nest.
XIII
Come, I thou sweet and lovely grace,
Which shines so bright in Jesus' face;
Charity, which must be
The sole possessor of eternity.
All other virtues do to thee give place,
Their race is finished and their work is done,
Come queen of graves mount the throne alone.
Still ye that hope to have a share
In heavenly joys, look in your breast,
And see if charity be there,
If her you want, though all the rest
Of her dear sisters seem to shine in you,
Alas they will not do,
They're counterfeit they cannot pass the test.
Hasten apace, come every lovely soul
Whose virtue was entire and whole;the
You who did always love as reason bid,
God's laws observed in all you did;
Not one beloved lust was in your bosoms hid.
Should all perfumed with heaven 's best frankincense,
Flaming with love, and with obedience:
Your stations take while to the bar,
God's enemies and yours assembled are.
XIV
Set forth the proud, the high and mighty man,
He'd take it ill should be not lead the van.
Tall and mighty though he be,
He's not too big great Judge for Thee.
Not all his power and interest can withstand
Thy just decree, not pluck him from Thy hand.
Look up my eyes, what do I see
This is a pygmy, sure, it is not he!
Ahh can the grave contract men so!
Does he himself the fatal lessening know?
For all men else did know it long before;
Now ask external pomp is gone how poor,
How very man a thing is he,
Who had no solid bravery,
Athens wants that shining gem humility.
Where is the pomp and the parade?
Will none of all his vassals own him now,
Those who did lately at his footsteps bow?
So soon doth worldly greatness fade!footsteps
Like a bird in the air 'tis fled and gone,
And not its smallest footsteps known.
Had he courageously preserved the poor,
Rescued the fatherless from the oppressor's power;
If in an impious age he bravely would,
Discourage vice and cherish every good:
If his high station served to raise
Virtues to deserved praise,
And set disfigured worth in a due light,
Fit to attract the dimmest and most vulgar sight:
He should have been
A truly great and celebrated thing.
If to enjoy the world he used his greatness, and his power,
His portion paid, and he can justly ask no more.
XV
To him the angry and the wrathful bring,
For pride and wrath are near of kin;
They're folly both, and so is every soon.
Let him look yonder I'll to heaven and see
If that mild region can with him agree:
None there but meek and peaceful spirits dwell,
But he it's set on fire of hell.
Where is the sweetness of revenges now?
Alas 'tis sour and bitter grown!
He was revenged of himself alone,
And must the sad effect of heaven's vengeance know!
Can he expect God should his mighty debt acquit,debt
Who never would his brother's pence remit?
Let Mammon's son his audits now bring in,
And say how has his wealth expended been;
So much in vanity, so much in sin,
So much laid up for his young spendthrift heir,
For the true use of wealth not the least share!
Strange folly this! that He who gave it all
Should long by His receivers call,
For some small quit-rent, and still be
Refused with surly cruelty.H
Can a small legacy at death,
Which custom, fear, and parting breath
Extort from you, out of that numerous heap,
Which fain you would but cannot keep,
A compensation make,
For all that wealth you did unjustly take,
And more unjustly keep; what can you say
To all those widow's tears, those orphan cries,
Which you beheld with such regardless eyes,
(How your full bags against you plead today!)
In vain do you for mercy sue,
You who were dead to them, you Judge is dead to you.
XVI
With blushing face and down cast eyes,
Here come mistaken pleasure's votaries.
A shapeless mass of filth and ugliness,
In their own folly clad and not in nature's dress.
Not lest the footstep does in them appear
Of heaven's imperial character:N
The sacred image of their God
Is quite defaced, and His abode
Usurped by every shameless thing,
Things whose enjoyment's pain, and end a sting.
For tell me, you who spend your days
Pleasure to hunt through all her various ways,
When ye the phantom do embrace,
And nearly state upon her painted face,u
Where is the joy she promised you
And all the mighty things she'd for her lovers do?
Hope has devoured already the best part,
Frustrate desire converts to pain and smart;
And in the place of long expected joy,
Starts up pale loathing and satiety.
Unthinking men! Why did you choose the night,
To act those sins which were unfit for view?I
How came it that ye never knew,
They'd one day be revealed in all men's sight?
Would sinners take advice from me,I
I'd have them sin where God's eye cannot see,
'Tis folly sure to shun a mortal's eye,
Unless they could from God their Judge and Witness fly.
XVII
Ye modern sinners come,
And hear you're finally doom:
He who so oft have called on God,
Not tho implore His mercy but
To dare His rod;
Ye, who dip oft your bloody tongues have put
Into these wound, not to suck balsom thence,
But spider-like, to add
The deeper dye to your offence;
Say quickly what you plead,
Bring forth the mighty purchase of your sin,
The harvest it has brought you in,
That airy nothing, that inconstant thing,
Fashion! which every fop can blow away,
Fashion! the mushroom of a short-lived day:
Though every sinner's purchased are small,
They some few trifles get, but you lose all.
Not shall ye scape, ye who so ready were
You're neighbour's frailties to declare;
With spiteful glasses, made his mote too seem
Of greater magnitude than your own beam.
Fine modish art, that doth sustain
Many a withered sinking fame,
And often spoiled its neighbour's purer name.
'Tis a mean worth that doth recoil
Behind a screen,
When shining virtues must be seen,
And dares not show itself without a foil.
Such sordid arts are wholly useless here,
They make your ugliness the more appear;
Who were so hard to others, now must be
Judged but a great and just severity.
XVIII
The numerous stock of fools together set,
Who Indian-like trafficked away
Their gold and pearls for glass and jet,
Yet these alas are greater fools than they,
(No real difference we see,
Between those things the world affords us here,
'Tis fancy only makes them cheap or dear,
But what comparison can be
Between a point of time and vast eternity?)
No other witnesses we need,
Besides the conscience of an evil deed;
Open their guilty hearts that they may be
Exposed in all their vile deformity.
No secret word though whispered in the ear,
Nor thought though dark as night but must appear,
And their much blacker sins be published here.
Why do you droop, and hide your face away?
Ye who with brazen front the other day,
Could laugh at heaven, and this great day defy
Say, is religion still a forgery?
What can your topping courage dread?
Is it the sight of spirits makes ye afraid?
Your railery palled, and wit quite out of door,
What not one argument in store?
Those characters were in your bosom writ,
Which ye blurred o'er with drink and nose,
Our with bold foreheads, and pretended wit
Sought to evade, have now assumed a voice;
They tell you plainly, he that can
Violate reason, and himself unman,
Pretended monster! who such pains did take
To be worse than the devil, must now with devils partake.
XIX
Unhappy men! Can ye behold His face
Now as a Judge, whom ye would never hear,
When with a sweet and winning grace,
With all the holy art that could endear,
He prayed ye sick and wounded to Him come,
Ye prodigals invited home;
That nothing might be wanting to your good,
Offered the precious balsam of His blood,
Did for you all omnipotence could do,
Spurred on by pity and by love,
Long bare your follies, waited your return,
Even then when you did at His favours spurn.
Behold the rocks do at His presence move,
They hear His voice, and hearing do obey,
But you were more obdurate far than they.
Not mercy's call, nor judgment's louder noise,
The Spirit's whisper, nor the preacher's voice,
Not conscience daily checks, not what is more
Your Saviour's bloody wounds, and sacred gore,
Could work upon and charm your deafened ear,
For what persuasion can
Reclaim that wretched man,
Who is resolved he will not hear?
And do you think thy Judge will hear you now?
You who did still persist in your offence,
Till death's approaches forced you to
A weak and feigned penitence:
Alas the gate of mercy's shut long since.
He that does hope for heaven, with time and care
Must for that sacred place prepare,
'Tis not a dying wish will blow him there.
XX
Bring them all here who durst profane
By their unChristian lives, Christ's sacred name:
Heathens and Jews have more excuse than they,
Who knew their Master's will but would not it obey.
'Tis bout enough, that they have been
Heard in His house, and at His table seen,
'Tis not enough their breasts are clear
From many a crime, if harboured there
They kept a darling vice though ne'er so small,
One unrepented sin will ruin all.a
Where are the men that half their journey went?
And seek they did no evil, were content
To do no good, as if omissions were
But venial sins, and faults we need not fear:
These in some limbus are most fit to fail,
Could there a medium be 'twi xt heaven and he'll.
Christ knows you not ye hypocritical,
Who did yourselves the godly call;
And to religious zeal pretends,
Not for God's glory, but your own base ends;
And would your little politic juggles have,
As if His hand was short and could not save:
Stick to them still, there's no meanders here,
Who goes for heaven an even course must steer,
And not submit with every wind to veer.
XXI
Say sinners say, how was your time employed?
In serving avarice and pride;
In following vain impertinence and toys;
In idle griefs, and in more foolish joys;
Ambitious projects, quarrelling and strife;
What nothing left for the true end of life?
Ye murmur so at heaven's decree and grutch,
As if time has too fleet a wing;
Ye throw't away on every trifling thing,
As if ye thought it were too much!o
Ah senseless men what would you have,
Rest in the world and music in the grave?,
Ye'd all your lifetime sow in sin,
And look the harvest should bring in
The fruits of peace, and righteousness.
So may the husbandman go dress
His hedge of thorns and briars, and while he digs
Think they'll convert to vines and figs.
The world and devil had your prime,
And sin, and vanity, your wealth and time,
What then remains for Him who gave you all?
Some rotten bones, faint purposes, and dying call!
Go to your prince and offer these,
And try if they a mortal man will please.
Not sin itself will be with them content,
When they approached away it went;
You left not sin for sin relinquished you,
You minded heaven when thou nought else could do.
Should God for you dispense with His whole law,
You might be blest, till then your plea withdraw.
The Judge regards no privilege, no decree,
As were your works, so shall your sentence be
XXII
'Twould be an endless task to speak of all,
Whom this all-setting Judge will call.
Not from the highest who once filled a throne,
To him who late did on a dunghill groan,
Shall any scape, but the just ssentence shal
Indefinitely pass on all.
Bow down your heads with reverence lend an ear,
Some with hope, and some with fear,
Jesus is now declaring who shall be
Made or undone, to all eternity.
You blessed souls who on the right hand stand,
Thou who did ne'er dispute your Lord's command,
But with a cheerful and obedient will
Chose the good, and left the ill:
Who did not idly let your talents life,
Made it your business, and your joy,
To traffic for eternity.
The storm is o'er and all the danger past,
And an eternal calm is come at last.
That seed of grace in you was sown,
Is now sprung up to glory and a crown;
Here take it from My hand, and be
Sharers in my felicity,
'Tis My good pleasure you should reign with Me.
XXIII
And ye apostate spirits, who began
To sin so early and to ruin man;
Say what temptations can excuse your crime,
Or what pretence can make it less?
Ye were not cumbered with a load of flesh,
And in the infancy of time
Wanted a precedent to sin,
But wanted no restraint to keep you in.
(O most deplorable are they
Who 'gainst the greatest privileges disobey!
And want a Saviour's blood to wash their guilt away!)
Go then accursed spirits, who have been
So many years in custody,
Who in the never-failing chains did lie,
Of God's almighty power, and your own sin.
That dreadful place below was made for you,
But ah unhappy man would have it too!
Unhappy man! for whom job kind heaven designed,
A place where every glory shined,
Ah can there be such charms in endless woe,
That man should seize upon't whither heaven will off no!A
XXIV
Depart ye cursed, from my presence fly,
And when from Me, ye part from every joy.
But if your sundial eyes the sight will bear,
First look to heaven and see what joy is there,
A joy which one day might have been your share.
Look at these saints with glory clad,
You the same right, the same advantage had,
The same free will to choose, and 'tis but fit
Hell should be theirs, who have made choice of it.
The loss of heaven's but half your punishment,
Go wretches go,
Too endless and uninterrupted woe:
'Tis God's command and go you must,
Your guilty consciences confess out just;
And all this bright assembly join with Me,
To pass the irreversible decree.
Methinks I see the hopeless wretches mourn,
With anger, rage, and envy burn.
Not all the stock fancy can furnish is
Able to fit our metaphors for this.
Bad men and devils with fruitless fury see,
Those saints they once despised their judges be,
And this adds weight unto their misery.
The wicked into hell fall tumbling down,
The righteous they ascend unto a throne;
These go to endless life, and endless day,
The other to a never-dying death are sent away.
HEAVEN
I
In a poor simple girl 'tis a bold flight,
To aim at such a glorious height,
And with weak eyes to gaze on brightest light.
Forbear fond wench, it is enough for you
To do as other women do,
To dress and talk and make a show.
or if you need will dabbling be
In poetry,
The theatre will furnish you with themes,
Go spend your life in pleasures golden dreams;
But never study heaven if you would be
Or blest with wealth, or graced with dignity.
Go ask the world, and it will let you know
The proper time to think on heaven,
When age and sickness makes unfit for things below,
And you may quickly make long reckonings even,
With one short penitential sigh or two.
Why? cannot you sufficient matter find
On earth to exercise a busy mind?
See how the man that would be counted wise,
With many a toilsome care, and waking eyes,
Lades himself with shining clay,
And find enough to think, to do and say.
Look how the gay, the busy one,
That loves to buzz about a throne,
Is followed and caressed, who would not be
Such an admired thing as he!
Poor foolish men! Will you no further go,
Can ye with trifles be content?
Trifles that for your portion ne'er were meant!
Then e'en take up with things below.
But none of these my genius please,
Alas we were not born for these,
They're not our business they're but our disease.
No, to my native place my soul aspires,
And something more than earth desires,
Heaven only can its vast ambition fill,
And heaven alone must exercise my mind and quill.
II
Tell me ye sons of honour, were ye born
Joyfully heirs unto a throne,
Would not your busy thoughts be always there,
And your approaching greatness antedate?
Would you not wish to be no longer heir,
But full possessors of the longed for state?
Would not your minds disdain all meaner things,
And you in fancy be already kings?
Tell me ye worldly wise, we’re ye to take
A voyage to the east or west,
Whereby your o’er grown fortunes might be more increased,
Would you not careful preparations make?
Would you not see your vessel firmly made,
And all things rightly fitted for your trade?
Last up your store since if it here neglected be,
Hereafter you too late the error see.
Would you not arm and watch against a foe?
And all the rocks and dangers know?
Learn the language of the place,
The secret arts of commerce trace;
And see that all accounts were clear,
Would you leave your estates unsettled here?
And yet when all your pains and care are done,
How soon’s the kingdom lost! How soon the riches gone!
Ah simple men! Can you cut out yobusiness here,
Does heaven not need, or not deserve your care?
III
Help me, my muse, thou who are unconfined,
And with no luggage of a body joined,
Untie those chains that hold
My heaven born soul imprisoned here,
Raise it above the seventh sphere;
Thou who dost nature's secret mysteries unfold,
A second nature art,
And with wild fancies chaos canst impart
New creatures of thine own,
To nature's self unknown.
Now Simon still those glittering things,
Which so enchant the hearts of kings,
Those which make daring men outbrave the sea,
And with the sun joint travellers be.
That make him through all dangers run,
Nor stop at any wickedness,
But through the sacred flood,
Of his dear sovereign, our his country's blood,
Wade to greatness.
Alas! when all is said thou hast not done,
or rather not begun,
Though every letter were a sun,
And every word a firmament;
For what large word can we invent,
To express that glory, which can never be
So much as comprehended by mortality.
IV
How I admire Thy wisdom, gracious Lord,
Which does in this and all Thy ways appear!
Thou wilt not a clear sight of heaven afford,
Lest none should be content to tarry here:
And yet so much Thou lets us know,
As may exalt our minds above all things below.
For how can he
An object worth his admiration see,
Who with a steady eye looks up to Thee?
Can he for shame repine,
Who one day hops to be divine?
What discontent can e'er disturb that breast,
Whom God by a wise discipline prepares
For everlasting rest?
He lives secure and free from anxious cares,
Looks through the threatening cloud with cheerful eye,
Sees the short passage tho eternal joy,
And with secure and undisturbed repose,
So heaven be his, cares not if all besides he wasn't our lose.a
v
Methinks I feel myself already rise
Above these transitory vanities;
Those chains and fetters here below,
Made up of seeming joy, and real woe:
Raised with the hopes dear heaven that I may be,
Though most unfit for this world, fit for thee.
Those bugbear words I now no longer fear,
Of unsuccessful and unfortunate,
Nor hope nor fear can ever reach me there,
Too big's the joy, and too secure the state.
In vain mistaken world cost thou assay
To stop my course to heaven, I'll force a way
Through all my little rubs and thorns,
And live secure and calm amidst thy storms.
While heaven's the happy purchase of my pain,
Toil's a pleasure, loss a gain;
I feel no want while it's in view,
And in the hopes of heaven can all things do -
Stop, stop my muse, for if I higher fly,
My soul will breath out in the ecstasy,
E'er it is fit for immortality.
Ah blessed place when shall I be,
Admitted to a sight of thee?
When shall these mouldering cords asunder break,
When shall I in thee dwell not of thee speak?
If hopes of heaven can such refreshment give,
Lord what do they enjoy that in it live!
VI
To know what they enjoy, would be
A kind of heaven even here below;
Poor we that toil in life's hard drudgery,
Pick up scraps of knowledge here and there,
While the blest souls above do all things know;
Ask things worthy to be known,
And what's not so is better let alone
They know no pain, satiety, or care,
None is those things that make us sighand weep,
Sorrows at a due distance keep,
Where should they rest, whence should they grow,
Since you thrice happy souls can never know,
Sin the original of all our woe?
Nature which now concealed lies,
And from the most refined inquirer flies,
Shall here discover all her mysteries.
And providence, though one would think,
That sometimes she can fall asleep,
While her reproachers do her favours keep,
And she at prosperous villainies appears to wink:
Will teach us all her secret ways,
Unveil her beauty, and extort our praise.
Show us with what a curious art,
She manageth and brings about,
The hearts of kings, and the unconstant rout,
Can misery to happiness convert.
And by her prudent management,
Make good appear when evil was the sole intent.
Show us sweet fruit reared from a bitter ground,
How wickedness does wickedness confound.
VII
The pain of asking shall have here no place,
No fear of disappointment or disgrace.
No stormy passion can approach thy gate,
O most refined and happy state!
Nor shame in thee admittance find,
That greatest pain to an ingenious mind.
The soul and body shall not disagree,
But both contribute to felicity,
That shall holy be and wise;
This blessed with new abilities,
With glory, vigour, immortality.
Here all are full yet with enlarged capacity,
Desire and have a new increase of joy.
Their crowns set fast, no bold usurper's arm
Can reach their heads, off do them harm.
Not such poor crowns as princes strive for here,
Made up of crosses, lined with care;
But crowns that are with glorious virtues bright,
Bright with their own and not a borrowed light.
None shall repine
Because another does with greater lustre shine,
But all in love and praise together join.
Blest harmony where angels bear a part,
And every note's breathed from a loving heart!
Our music's discord when compared with thee,
For only love can make true melody.
VIII
And here love does in its full zenith shine,
A love all pure and all divine,
Purged from that dross, which foolish men would throw
Upon it here below.
No misconstructions can this love destroy,
Each saint is happy in his neighbour's joy.
To love in vain we need not fear.
For all are Jonathans and Davids here.
Were there no other happiness than this,
Vast were the joy, and infinite the bliss,
For all that's pleasant is where friendship is.
Friendship, thou epitome of all that's good,
O that thou wert more practiced and more understood!
Art thou already gone above,
Off heart thou left some sparks of thee below?
Ah let me know,
Since thou reigns on my breast, thou sacred love,
Why should it be,
Friendship should only be forbid to me?
IX
How dost thou flag, how do thy pinions tire,
Poor muse as thou ascend higher and higher.
Eternity's too big, too fathomless for thee,
And yet those joys shall all eternal be;
Though one rich minute of such joy as this,
Worth an eternity of this world's pleasures is.
O for an angel's tongue
That what remains be rightly sung!
And yet a seraphim would be struck dumb!
Forgive me, heaven, forgive this infamy,
While I would praise I but disparage thee.
Vision of peace! Region of endless bliss!
Where every saint has all his heart can wish,
A happiness in its perfection is!
What bold Pindaric strains can further go?
What metaphors suffice to show?
That unexpressible delight,
Floss from the beatific sight.
Enough, enough and come not near
This abyss, only that God is there;
This said all other words are dull and flat,
For every joy thou comprehends in that.
Here Jesus lives, and here the rapturous sight,
Of Him who dwells in unattached light
Shall be unveiled, here we shall see, and be,
I know not what ...
I all-sufficient God, we shall be full of Thee.
HELL
I
With a short line, and scanty wit,
Shall I assay the bottomless and dreadful pit!
At such a task nature recoils, and flies,
For who can think of endless miseries,
Without convulsion fits and melting eyes!
Horror and trembling sieze upon my pen,
How shall I trace the darksome den!
Or a description make,
Of the sulphry burning lake!
Since all may pains and all my care must be,
That I this place may never know or see,
Oh wretched they that do experience thee?
What an almighty power can do
To make and bless we have already known;
And sure to punish He can too,
As great and mighty things perform.
Cast in the black ingredients there,
Folly, ingratitude, and shame
Self-ruin, anger, madness, sorrow, fear,
Most biting anguish, and regret, despair,
Past pleasures ne'er to be recalled again,
And an ever present pain,
With secret horrors we want words to name;
A gnawing envy, and a warm desire,
Ne'er to be satisfied and ne'er remove;
And all these blown into a raging fire,
By slighted mercy, and abused love.
Who can with endless burnings dwell
And who could sin should he but often think of hell?
II
Ah sinful men, cannot the present ill,
The Nemesis and sure revenge,
The inseparable shadow that attends
On every sin,
Lay some restraint and keep you in?
Can nothing stop a headlong will?
That ne'er regards whither it's folly tends.
Foolhardy will of man, that date withstand
Even God Himself, and slight even His command;
With its life self 'gainst heavenly legions run,
And to its own destruction overcome.
Stop, stop the furious course a while, and see
Who will the final loser be.
Look on the sting which every painted vice
Conceals when it to ruin would entice.
What shall a sugared bait go down,
Even when the fallacy it's known!
Think when enjoyment's past,
How sin will be
Seen in her natural deformity,
But above all think what will come at least!
Whom death cannot persuade, nor heaven invite,
Them hell and judgment must affright,
Out of the broad and beaten way,
Where in the midst of danger they
Securely play.
You have your choice of life and death, then why
O inconsiderate men why will ye die,
And be the cause of your own misery?
For even that God who everything can do,
Can't force us to be blest whether we will or no.
III
Ye dainty sinners who ere while
Washed your delicious steps in oil,
Whose tenderness could hardly bear,
The smallest breathings of the air,
Must now for rougher things prepare.
Racks are faint metaphors, to tell
The strange distorting pains prepared in heel.
We talk of fire, because 'tis here
To us most terrible, and most severe;
But racks and fire, and all the witty ways,
That tyrants can invent to end our days,
Or make them miserable, would be
A paradise, O Hell, compared with thee!
How equitable, Lord, are all Thy ways,
How they contribute to Thy praise!
While every sinner's punishment's a fit
Description of the sin that caused out.
Dives who rolled in plenteous luxury,
Must now in starving want forever lie,
Not one cool drop to mitigate his pain,
Not one refreshing breath to fan his flame.
IV
Ah can that curious ear,
Which to the harp and viol used to dance,
Endure to hear
Those groans, and murmurs, and that howling noise,
Worse than the evening wolves' hoarse voice.
Good breeding's all lost here and complaisance,
Will those incarnate devils who tempt ye,
To whom more than to God ye paid civility,
Will their society assuage?
No 'twill increase your pain and rage.
Do ye 'gainst thieves and murthers shut your doors
Who would but rob thou of some fleeting thing,
A life that cannot long be yours,
And riches that's already on the wing;
And shall the instruments of Satan be
Suffered, and invited too,
Foolish men too ruin you,
Not for a time but unto all eternity?
For ever, O for ever, is the sting!
A finite grief's not worth the mentioning.
For where sweet hope can find the smallest place
To enter in, with her bright face
She clears up sorrows, and restores the light,
Though they were black as the Egyptian night.
But not the smallest glimpse of hope can be,
Forsaken place! suffered to shine in thee.
When thy duration has been more,
More years, if we may count by years,
Than there are sands upon the shore,
Or grass piled on the earth, our stars,
In the bright firmament, alas the sum
Compared to eternity does just to nothing come.
V
Surely I hear one of these caitiffs roar,
And his unhappy case deplore.
Hearken gay sinner to the mighty truth,
These words will one day fit thy mouth.
Ah senseless wretch where have I brought myself!
What have I plucked upon my wretched head?
With the find love of honour, pleasure, pelf,
Which now like treacherous friends are from me fled
Now when in greatest need I stand,
Like reeds of Egypt pierce my hand.
I cannot, no I cannot enter heaven,
Should God vouchsafe to unlock its gate for me,
I who am nothing but impurity,
With that most holy place can ne'er agree.
Alas, none of my brutish pleasures can
Love in that air, or flourish in that soil,
Not all my crying, tears, and toil,
Can retransform this beast into a man.
Repentance now is out of date,
And like the foolish virgins comes too late;
Repent I shall for ever, but in vain,
Since 'tis not love makes me repent, but fear and pain.be
VI
Come ye companions of my choice,
My tempters once, and my tormentors now,
(Cursed I who could despise a Saviour's voice
To hear and follow you!)
Come spiteful devils, and let your malice be
In a full tide poured out on me.
This greedy mouth, and these lascivious eyes,
This tongue inured to blasphemies,
These ears which could the needy's prayer withstand,
This bloody and rapacious hand;
Let them their several torments know,
For that's the least of all my woe;
Me on you lake of brimstone throw,
Break me in pieces on you shelf,
Oh, come and save me from myself!
Bodily pains are soft and kind,
Compared with anguish of the mind!
What shall I do! where shall I rest?
How shall I fly from my own breast?
For there the gnawing worm has made her nest!
VII
Why does reflection follow me?
And what have I to do with memory,
Since I must never taste again of joy?
These my most exquisite tormentors be.
I who ne'er used to think must think at last,
Now all the benefit of thinking's past.
I saw, alas I saw, the endless bliss,
For which so often fruitlessly I wish:
With rage and envy I beheld,
Those who the happy thrones have filled.
What have I lost, and Oh for what?
A crown, a kingdom, glory, happiness
And all eternal too, for that
Which worse than nothing is,
O stupid folly, brutish madness, this!
Rise blushes rise to cover such a shame,
Till your high colour rival with my flame:
And every passion in my bosson move,
Come take your full revenge on wretched me,
Fear and despair I feel with all their train,
Anger and grief already kindled be,
But I alas can never hope nor love:
For heavenly joys I have no gust,
Nor can away with hell, and yet I must.
Ah my dear pleasures whither do ye stray?
Alas they laugh at me and fly away,
Only their raging thirst does ever with me stay.
VIII
What shall I say, what shall I sing?
No more, no more, of such a dismal thing!
Whose every breathing's paain, and thought a sting!
Yet ere we leave this horrid pit,
Let's try what good we can extract from it.
For them 'tis bootless to lament and moan,
Who to this Tophet are already gone,
But something for the living may be done.
With restless toil, and an unwearied zeal,
Strike the dull sinner till he feel;
Such wounds will always do him good
And let out the lethargic blood.
Cruelly civil they who let him die,
Rather than break the rules of decency,
And friendship's choicest law despise,
To truckle to unworthy flatteries:
'Tis not mistaken, civil men,
To free you from this vice, that you disdain
With praising sin your tongues to stain,
That dastard spirit which can refrain
From speaking truth, plain though unpleasant when
He hath a power, and opportunity,
Is guilty of a negative flattery.
All ye that know the value of a soul,
And what a price it cost to make it whole,
How much was paid to ransom it,
From hell and make't for heaven fit;
In season,and out of it beat his ear,
Till importunity force him to hear,
And though unwilling, make his prospect dwell,
Over a roaring and devouring hell.
As those above all others suffer shall,
Who caused their neighbours in this pit to fall;
So shall a double joy to him be given,
Who brings his brother with himself to heaven.
VERTUE
1
Go despicable virtue go,
And seek some other world,
Go live with them whom we have robbed of gold,
Since thou art far too mean and low,
For this refined age, perhaps the dull
The sottish Indian, may admit of thee,
But we are full
Of sparkling wits, who know thy poverty,
And see through thy home-spun simplicity.
Some sixteen hundred years ago,
When men did only practick notions know,
And infant Christianity began
With its mirac'lous force to impose on man:
Virtue perhaps, like some new thing might be
Admired and followed, for its novelty.
But we by their dear bought experience find,
That virtue's nothing but a name,
Which neither can protect from loss nor pain,
A name by cunning men designed,
Yup lay restraint on the best part o f human-mind.
2
Go virtuous fop and leave the world to us,
'Twas never sure designed for thee:
A mind so nice and scrupulous,
Can never rise to wealth or dignity.
Alas poor man! He cannot one thing say,
And act a quite contrary way!
No gain goes down with him, but what must be
First measured in the scales of equity
He cannot swallow oaths, and perjury,
His squeamish stomach hardly can digest a lie.
Note can with evil means good runs pursue,
Not lawful things with ill intention do.
Religion that unfashionable thing,
Too firm and close ly sets in him,
He thinks it still the same, and knows not how
Wisely to make out to his interests bow.
Full soul that never our great secret hit,
Who for a cloak make use of it,
(None better villainies to hide)
And then 'tis quickly thrown aside,
When our designs it can no longer fit.
3
Why do I thus idly my time employ?
Since others seek preferment why should I,
For some weak scruples slip the opportunity?
He that will nothing do but what is best,
May properly be said to live in jest.
He that will for preferment stay,
Till he come by it in a reg’lar way,
May with the blinded Jews,
Vainly himself for evermore amuse,
With expectations of the absent day.
But he that never boggles at a vice,
Obtains his purpose in a trice;
And what great hurt is done?
Only a virtuous simpleton out-run.
If he to heaven had been a debtor,
He hopes hereafter to do better;
Though much of his tomorrows may be past,
Yet this hereafter sure will come at last;
And when it comes, O then,
A little matter sets all right again,
A Lord forgive me wipes away the shame and sin.
4
But one thought more I venture out.
Let me but solve one little doubt:
Will virtue always under hatches lie?
And vice forever have impunity?
See which bids fairest for eternity.
Ah now I find virtue's the only good;
They who forsake her never understood
Her safety and felicity,
Let me with virtue live, and with her die.
I could have richer bargains offered me,
As the world thinks, but now I plainly see,
There's nothing glorious or rich but thee!
Enough thou hast to charm us here,
Enough to bear our charges on the way,
But ah what hast thou art the great rewarding day!
And I'm content to have all laid up there.
Content, said I, nay rather let me say,
For this I'll study, strive and pray;
And to the world this last farewell I give,
Henceforth my only business shall be how to live.
THE COMPLAINT
1
What dost Thou mean, my God (said I,
Once in a sad and melancholy fit)
Why dost Thou so severely try
Thy servant, as if yet
I had not been explored sufficiently.
So much to stretch will break the wire,
What gold can always struggle with the fire?
And Lord, what mortal in Thy sight can stand,
If all his ways be too exactly scanned?
2
if I ask wealth, it is to be
Thy steward only, not to make it mine.
And when I would have dignity,
'Tis that it might be thine,
And virtue's light to more advantage shine.
'Tis my design when wit I crave,
That Thou both use and principal should have.
For well I know that these no blessings be,
If as from Thee they came, so they ascend not up to Thee.
3
Yet without these I can be pleased
When Thou remembers me how oft they are
A spur to vice, and virtue's snare,
Strong souls have been diseased,souls
By coming fresh into infected air.
Who would a cup of poison take,
That of his antidote he might trial make?
All are not got the ordeal to endure,
Conquest is brave, but peace is most secure.
4
But yet methinks 'tis somewhat hard,
My mind being to the lowest measure fit,
Content with wages, begs not a reward,
Thou should'st contract it yet,
And I of necessaries be debarred.
Long have I lived on hope, but will
A hope that's always baulked continue still?
Is't not a sign the flood does still remain,
When my poor dove comes empty home again?
5
Lord, Thou didst give Thy only Son
To for for me, and can I doubt Thy love?
In His dear Name Thou bids me come,
And yet no prayers will move!
Friendless and helpless I'm exposed here,
As if Thou took'st of me no care.
My equitable suit canst Thou deny,
Since all I am is opportunity,
Too serve my God and traffic for eternity?
6
Fondly I this complained, when lo
A beamling shot from heaven upon me shined;
In a right medium did the objects show,
And my dull thought refined.
Then I remembered who did undergo
Far worse for me, why should I moan
Since 'tis my daily prayer, God's will be done?
Ah, simple soul, couldst Thou His wisdom see,
Thou wouldst not sad, but pleased and joyful be;
Does not Thy God know best what's good for thee?
AFFLICTION
1
I know not what affliction means,
The play is still the same, though diverse scenes
Divert our eyes, now a fair tower,
And then a melancholy bower.
I find I can both eat and drink,
And sleep and breathe, and move, and read, and think
The sun shines on me, flowers their odour yield,
If not in mind yet in my neighbour's field.
2
I hear the air musicians sing,
And see the various beauties of the spring;
When I would something glorious see,
Then up to heaven I lift my eye,
There I behold the richest canopy,
Spread over such a mean despised thing as me.
And in my clothes I warmth and cleanness find,
Though mean, they're fitted to my body and mind.mess
3
I can have liberty to pray,
And to examine when I go stay;
And may employ my time to gain
A treasure which no tyranny,
Not theives, not fire can pluck from me,
A treasure which forever will remain.
And when I would pleasant and merry be,
It is but thinking what my God has done for me.Dr
4
I fear not to obtain my ends,
When God and a good conscience are my friends;
Nor need a patron, if with heaven
I can preserve my reckoning even.
And to secure me from all hurtful ill,
My God His angels sends to guard me still.
Then tell me, O ye happy, rich and brave,
What blessings have ye that I cannot have?
5
Is it because your fathers were
Noble and rich, and you are born their heir?
Is it because you're served in state,
With cringed and obsequious shows,
And that more than the know to use,
That you are blest and I unfortunate?
Tell me where does the mighty difference lie,
Where will it be when both of us must die?
6
'Tis even this, I can resign
With ease this poor afflicted soul of mine,
I who no sweet possessions have,
And no fine toys t'seduce my heart,
Can from this world with joy and triumph part,
And go as to my bed so to my grave;
No care to get wealth did disturb me there,
No fear to lose it will pursue me here.
7
Easy and short my reckonings are,
When I am called to the last dreadful bar,
And yours a great and mighty sum;
'Tis all you must expect, 'tis all your share
I who have had the bitter here,
May humbly hope for some good things to come.
Oh poor rich man, how will you wish to be,
Such a despised afflicted thing as me!
8
Then welcome, O ye happy things,
Ye blessings commonly to high for kings!
But he that doth converse with you,
Will quickly great and kingly grow,
Or nothing else will make him so,
When your instructions fail nothing will do.
'Tis you that are of all preferments chief,
Since Jesus was Himself the King of grief.
9
Welcome again, by you I learn
To value what's most worthy our concern.all
I might have always been a fool,
And happiness have measured then,
In the false balances of men,
Had I not been informed in your best school;
That true felicity is never joined
Unto the world, but to a virtuous mind.
10
Affliction! O 'tis but a name,
Mistaken men devise to hide their shame.
When they complain and find no ease,
Because their fortune does not please,
Unwillingly they own the fact,
Since weak and childishly they act,
'Tis my affliction makes me so they cry,
Heaven must be blamed for their absurdity.
11
But surely heaven, all pure and good,
Could its most righteous ways be understood,
By our weak reasonings, does not love
To please itself in our calamity,
Our pains are more its grief than joy;
All God designs thereby's to try and prove,
Whether we will at last our interest know,
And by short sufferings scape a never-ceasing woe.
12
Lord, how unhappy should I be,
Could want or plenty separate me from thee!
'Tis all a case whether I starve,
Or whether drown for death's the same
In both, and differenced only by a name.
If any passion rule I'm sure to serve,
Not is that servitude of greatest ease,
Where pride and impotence are the disease.shirt
13
Well, if I keep from discontent,
And can be pleased with all that heaven has sent
If self-love do not choke my mind,
but wholesome virtues flourish there,
Am too my self a friend, what need I care
should fortune be or curst or kind.
If God think fit in me to exercise
His graces, should not I the favour prize?
God's will I'm sure it's holy, just and wise.
14
Happy are they whose quiet mind,
To God's disposal freely is resigned:
Secure and much at ease they live,
(Since for them such a Friend does choose,
Who cannot be deceived, not will impose,)
And gladly whatsoe'er He sends receive.
The heaviest yoke does very easy sit,
When we with patience can submit to it.
15
Nay, if I knew that heaven were pleased,
That I should be defamed, poor, diseased,
I'd run to meet the welcome state,
With greater triumph, greater joy,
than the proud Macedonian boy,
From flattering men heard his prodigious fate:
note would i change my dunghill for his throne,
Though all the World's he wept for were his own.
16
Great Job, how much wert thou above
That vapour, who was called the Son of Jove,
Such as his father such was he,
But thy strong virtue like a rock
Heroicly endured the shock
of wind and waves, Thy naked virtue we
More eligible find, of more renown
Than all the tinsel glories of a crown.
THE THANKSGIVING
1
Hence you complaining thoughts away,
I have no time to sigh and grieve;
The little while allotted me to live
Is much too short a time to pay
Those praises and thanksgivings I should give,
And am indebted to my God
Both for His staff and for His rod,
Both for His physick and His food
And those severest ways whereby He does me good.
2
Begin and count the might sum,
Begin betimes for whilst I sing,
Each minute a new blessing home doth bring,
Say quickly what Thy God has done,
How free His mercies flow, how quick they spring,
Hast, they'll be numberless ere long
Too numerous for a finite song;
Alraedy I beneath them fall
For why arithmetick's too short
to count them all.
3
Wast not enough, my God, that Thou
Didst give me being, and infuse
A reasonable soul, fit to refuse
The evil, and the good to chuse;
And made me capable to enjoy and know
Thee the Supreme and only good,
But when my stubborn will withstood
Its own felicity, and weny astray
Thou by wise discipline recalls me to
Thy way.
4
What am I, Lord, ah what am I?
That of me Thou shouldst take such car
And for my sake sake Thy one dear Son not spare!
Dost Thou behold me with a friendly eye,
Vile me, on whom the world does look awry?
Then I'll no more the world regard,
Value its loss, nor care for its reward.
Thou kindly has withdrawn from me
All other things, that I may only
love and think on Thee.
AWAKE MY LUTE
I
Awake, my lute, daughters of music come,
To alleluias tune my tongue,
My heart already hath the canticle begun:
And leaps for joy, because its business is
In a better world than this.
Blessed be God and evermore extolled,
Who would not let me fettered be with gold:
Not too a dangerous world expose weak me,
By giving opportunity
For every sin, which wanton appetite
Too easily can entertain,
Nor needs temptations to invite;
Did we but know the secret bane,
The perdue poison, hidden aconite,
Which riches dodo enfold,
Not all it’s charms, not all its shining would
Persuade us to the love of gold.
Happy am I who out of danger sit,
Can see and pity them who was through it;
Need take no thought my treasure to dispose,
What I ne’er had I cannot fear to lose:
Nor am concerned what I must wear or buy,
To show my plenty and my vanity.
II
From my secure and humble seat,
I view the ruin of the great.
And dare look back on my expired days,
To my low state there needs no shameful ways.
O how uneasy should I be,
If tired to custom and formality,
Those necessary evils of the great,
Which bind their hands, and manacle their feet.
Not beauty, parts, nor portion me expose
My most beloved liberty to lose.
And thanks to heaven my time is all my own,
I when I please can be alone;
Not company, nor courtship steal away
That treasure they can ne’er repay.
No flatterers, no sycophants,
My dwelling haunts,
Nor am I troubled with impertinents.
Not busy days, nor sleepless nights infest
My quiet mind, nor interrupt my rest.
My honour stands not on such ticklish term
That every puff of air can do it harm.
But these are blessings I have never known,
Had I been great, or seated near a throne.
My God forever blessed be Thy name!
That I’m no darling in the lists of fame.
While the large spreading cedars of the wood,
Are in their eminence exposed to storms,
I who beneath their expectation stood,
Am undisturbed with such alarms.
None will at me their sharp distractions throw,
Or strive to make me less who am already low.
III
I thank Thee, Lord, that I am friendless too,
Though that, alas, be hard to do!
Though I have wearied heaven with prayers,
And filled its bottles with my tears.
Though I always proposed the noblest end,
Thy glory in friend.
And never any earthly thing required,
But this that's better part divine,
And for this reason was so much desired;
Yet humbly I submit,
Tho that most perfect will of Thine,
And thank Thee 'cause Thou hast denied me it.
Thrice blessed be Thy jealousy,
Which would not part
With one small corner of my heart,
But has engrossed it all for Thee!
Though wouldst not let me ease my buthers here,
Which none on earth could bear,
Not in another's troubles share;
O sweet exchange, Thy joys are mine,
And Thou hast made my sorrows Thine.
Now absence will not break my heart,
Jesus and I can never part,
By night, or day, by land our sea,
His right hand shades, His left hand's under me
Note shall I need to shed a year,
Because my friend is dead, or I must leave her here.
IV
If I can thank for this, what cannot I
Receive with cheerful mind, and perfect joy!
No want so sharply doth affect the heart,
No loss nor sickness causeth such a smart,
No racks not tortures so severely rend,
As the unkindness of a darling friend.
Yet even this bitter pill has done me good,
Without it I had hardly understood,
The baseness which attends
On every sin, because it is
Ingratitude and black perfidiousness,
To Thee, my God, the best of Friends.
Thus by the assistance of Thy Grace,
Joined with a lively faith, and honest mind,
In most untasteful things I pleasure find,
And beauty in the darkest sorrows face.
The eater brings forth meat, the strong affords
Like Samson's lion sweetness to Thy servant's boards.
Who has the true elixir, may impart
Pleasure to all he touches, and convert
The most unlikely grief to happiness.
Virtue this true elixir is,
'Tis only virtue this can do,
And with this choicest privilege invest,
Can make us truly happy now,
And afterwards for ever blest.
To
The most Reverend
his Grace the Lord
Archbishop of
Canterbury
Since praise it's nauseous to a modest ear,
No more in panegyrics I'll appear.
I cannot praise the bad, and to the good
Praise is a language hardly understood;
May I but pardon have for what is past,
And that mistaken fault shall be the last.
Foolishly I forgot that they will lest
Endure to hear praise, who deserve it best.
Henceforth in silence I'll admitted the brave,
They shall less praise more imitation have;
Though I was apt to think, virtue might bee
Where e'er 'twas deferring praises without flattery.
Too his great Name I'll raise my humble muse
Him, who the meanest offering won't refuse,
If out be offered with an honest mind,
A mind that laboured to be more refined,
Though't be not wholly from its errors freed,
But like the smoking flax and bruised reed.
Him! unto whom alone ask praise is due,
And all that can be said too little to!
Jesus shall be the burthen of my song,
Whom I can never love and praise too long:
Oh! that His Name by some celestial art
We're graven in my head, and tongue, and heart,
That I might always of him think and speak,
And never any of His precepts break;
To what a great and real dignity,
Would that advance ev'n despicable me!
How mean and how unworthy does appear,
All the gay things that people dote on here!
Fame, honour, riches, all beneath us fall
And merit not [our]care since He despised than all.
But whither do I run? I only meant
To let your Grace discern but what's here sent
That thought good counsel was not thrown away,
And while I to it my obedience pay,
May you be pleased to pardon this address
Forgive the errors off my homely verse,
For though out never did from virtue stray,
Yet you have shown a nearer and a better way.
ON MRS BOWES' DEATH
Blossom, fragrant spring, bright morn, adieu!
Virgins shall string their harps and mourn for you
Lost when the fatal nuptial knot was tied,
Your sun declined when you became a bride.
A soul refined like yours soared far above
The gross amusements of life vulgar love.
Not tempted by that poisonous cup to stay
Tasting it scorned the draught and fled away.
Oh cherubim's and seraph's noblest string,
In heavenly rapture's you're ordained to sing
The immortal Spouse, in bliss refined from sense
Pure as thought mind, and sweet as innocence.
Mary Astell 1666 - 1731
