Part 6

I sing the name which none can say 1 But touch't with an interiour ray: The name of our new peace; our good: Our blisse: and supernaturall blood: The name of all our liues and loues. 5 Hearken, and help, ye holy doues! The high-born brood of Day; you bright Candidates of blissefull light, The heirs elect of Loue, whose names belong Vnto the euerlasting life of song; 10 All ye wise sovles, who in the wealthy brest Of this vnbounded name, build your warm nest. Awake, my glory, Sovl (if such thou be, And that fair word at all referr to thee), Awake and sing, 15 And be all wing; Bring hither thy whole self; and let me see What of thy parent Heavn yet speakes in thee. O thou art poore Of noble powres, I see, 20 And full of nothing else but empty me: Narrow, and low, and infinitely lesse Then this great morning's mighty busynes. One little world or two (Alas) will neuer doe; 25 We must haue store. Goe, Sovl, out of thy self, and seek for more. Goe and request Great Natvre for the key of her huge chest Of Heauns, the self-inuoluing sett of sphears 30 (Which dull mortality more feeles then heares). Then rouse the nest Of nimble Art, and trauerse round The aiery shop of soul-appeasing sound: And beat a summons in the same 35 All-soueraign name, To warn each seuerall kind And shape of sweetnes, be they such As sigh with supple wind Or answer artfull touch; 40 That they conuene and come away To wait at the loue-crowned doores of this illustrious day. _love_ Shall we dare this, my Soul? we'l doe't and bring No other note for't, but the name we sing. Wake lvte and harp, and euery sweet-lipp't thing 45 That talkes with tunefull string; Start into life, and leap with me Into a hasty fitt-tun'd harmony. Nor must you think it much T' obey my bolder touch; 50 I haue authority in Love's name to take you, And to the worke of Loue this morning wake you. Wake, in the name Of Him Who neuer sleeps, all things that are, Or, what's the same, 55 Are musicall; Answer my call And come along; Help me to meditate mine immortal song. Come, ye soft ministers of sweet sad mirth, 60 Bring all your houshold stuffe of Heaun on earth; O you, my Soul's most certain wings, Complaining pipes, and prattling strings, Bring all the store Of sweets you haue; and murmur that you haue no more. 65 Come, ne're to part, Nature and Art! Come; and come strong, To the conspiracy of our spatious song. Bring all the powres of praise, 70 Your prouinces of well-vnited worlds can raise; Bring all your lvtes and harps of Heavn and Earth; Whatere cooperates to the common mirthe: Vessells of vocall ioyes, Or you, more noble architects of intellectuall noise, 75 Cymballs of Heau'n, or humane sphears, Solliciters of sovles or eares; And when you are come, with all That you can bring or we can call: O may you fix 80 For euer here, and mix Your selues into the long And euerlasting series of a deathlesse song; Mix all your many worlds aboue, And loose them into one of loue. 85 Chear thee my heart! For thou too hast thy part And place in the Great Throng Of this vnbounded all-imbracing song. Powres of my soul, be proud! 90 And speake lowd To all the dear-bought Nations, this redeeming Name, And in the wealth of one rich word, proclaim New similes to Nature. May it be no wrong Blest Heauns, to you and your superiour song, 95 That we, dark sons of dust and sorrow, A while dare borrow The name of your dilights, and our desires, And fitt it to so farr inferior lyres. Our murmurs haue their musick too, 100 Ye mighty Orbes, as well as you; Nor yeilds the noblest nest Of warbling Seraphim to the eares of Loue, A choicer lesson then the ioyfull brest Of a poor panting turtle-doue. 105 And we, low wormes, haue leaue to doe The same bright busynes (ye Third Heavens) with you. Gentle spirits, doe not complain! We will haue care To keep it fair, 110 And send it back to you again. Come, louely Name! Appeare from forth the bright Regions of peacefull light; Look from Thine Own illustrious home, Fair King of names, and come: 115 Leaue all Thy natiue glories in their gorgeous nest, And giue Thy Self a while the gracious Guest Of humble soules, that seek to find The hidden sweets Which man's heart meets 120 When Thou art Master of the mind. Come louely Name; Life of our hope! Lo, we hold our hearts wide ope! Vnlock Thy cabinet of Day, Dearest Sweet, and come away. 125 Lo, how the thirsty Lands Gasp for Thy golden showres! with long-stretcht hands Lo, how the laboring Earth That hopes to be All Heauen by Thee, 130 Leapes at Thy birth! The' attending World, to wait Thy rise, First turn'd to eyes; And then, not knowing what to doe, Turn'd them to teares, and spent them too. 135 Come royall Name! and pay the expence Of all this pretious patience; O come away And kill the death of this delay! O, see so many worlds of barren yeares 140 Melted and measur'd out in seas of teares: O, see the weary liddes of wakefull Hope (Love's eastern windowes) all wide ope With curtains drawn, To catch the day-break of Thy dawn. 145 O, dawn at last, long-lookt for Day! Take Thine own wings, and come away. Lo, where aloft it comes! It comes, among The conduct of adoring spirits, that throng Like diligent bees, and swarm about it. 150 O, they are wise, And know what sweetes are suck't from out it: It is the hiue, By which they thriue, Where all their hoard of hony lyes. 155 Lo, where it comes, vpon the snowy Dove's Soft back; and brings a bosom big with loues: Welcome to our dark world, Thou womb of Day! Vnfold Thy fair conceptions, and display The birth of our bright ioyes, O Thou compacted 160 Body of blessings: Spirit of soules extracted! O, dissipate Thy spicy powres, (Cloud of condensèd sweets) and break vpon vs In balmy showrs! O, fill our senses, and take from vs all force of so prophane a fallacy, 165 To think ought sweet but that which smells of Thee! Fair, flowry Name, in none but Thee And Thy nectareall fragrancy, Hourly there meetes An vniuersall synod of all sweets; 170 By whom it is definèd thus, That no perfume For euer shall presume To passe for odoriferous, But such alone whose sacred pedigree 175 Can proue itself some kin (sweet Name!) to Thee. Sweet Name, in Thy each syllable A thousand blest Arabias dwell; A thousand hills of frankincense, Mountains of myrrh, and beds of spices 180 And ten thousand paradises, The soul that tasts Thee takes from thence. How many vnknown worlds there are Of comforts, which Thou hast in keeping! How many thousand mercyes there 185 In Pitty's soft lap ly a-sleeping! Happy he who has the art To awake them, And to take them Home, and lodge them in his heart. 190 O, that it were as it was wont to be! When Thy old freinds of fire, all full of Thee, Fought against frowns with smiles; gaue glorious chase To persecutions; and against the face Of Death and feircest dangers, durst with braue 195 And sober pace, march on to meet A GRAVE. On their bold brests, about the world they bore Thee, And to the teeth of Hell stood vp to teach Thee; In center of their inmost soules, they wore Thee, Where rackes and torments striu'd, in vain, to reach Thee. 200 Little, alas, thought they Who tore the fair brests of Thy freinds, Their fury but made way For Thee, and seru'd them in Thy glorious ends. What did their weapons but with wider pores 205 Inlarge Thy flaming-brested louers, More freely to transpire That impatient fire, The heart that hides Thee hardly couers? What did their weapons but sett wide the doores 210 For Thee? fair, purple doores, of Loue's deuising; The ruby windowes which inricht the East Of Thy so oft-repeated rising! Each wound of theirs was Thy new morning, And reinthron'd Thee in Thy rosy nest, 215 With blush of Thine Own blood Thy day adorning: It was the witt of Loue oreflowd the bounds Of Wrath, and made Thee way through all those wovnds. Wellcome, dear, all-adorèd Name! For sure there is no knee 220 That knowes not Thee: Or, if there be such sonns of shame, Alas! what will they doe When stubborn rocks shall bow And hills hang down their heaun-saluting heads 225 To seek for humble beds Of dust, where in the bashfull shades of Night Next to their own low Nothing, they may ly, And couch before the dazeling light of Thy dread majesty. They that by Loue's mild dictate now 230 Will not adore Thee, Shall then, with just confusion bow And break before Thee.

NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

The title in 1648 'Steps' is simply 'On the name of Jesus.' In 1670 it is 'To the Name above every Name, the Name of Jesus, a Hymn,' and throughout differs from our text (1652) only in usual modernisation of orthography. The text of 1648 yields these readings:

Line 7, 'the bright.'

" 42, 'of th's.'

" 49, 'Into a habit fit of self tun'd Harmonie.'

" 79, 'you're.'

" 92, 'aloud.'

" 105, 'Seraphins.'

" 106, 'loyall' for 'joyfull.'

" 132, 'heavens.'

" 182 spells 'sillabell.'

" 187, 'The soules tastes thee takes from thence.'

" 202, 'bare.'

" 204, 'ware.'

" 209, 'For Thee: And serv'd therein thy glorious ends.'

See our Essay for critical remarks on the measure and rhythm of this poem as printed in our text (1652). G.

PSALME XXIII.[34]

Happy me! O happy sheepe! 1 Whom my God vouchsafes to keepe; Even my God, even He it is, That points me to these paths of blisse; On Whose pastures cheerefull Spring, 5 All the yeare doth sit and sing, And rejoycing, smiles to see Their green backs weare His liverie: Pleasure sings my soul to rest, Plentie weares me at her brest, 10 Whose sweet temper teaches me Nor wanton, nor in want to be. At my feet, the blubb'ring mountaine Weeping, melts into a fountaine; Whose soft, silver-sweating streames 15 Make high-noon forget his beames: When my wayward breath is flying, He calls home my soul from dying; Strokes and tames my rabid griefe, And does wooe me into life: 20 When my simple weaknes strayes, (Tangled in forbidden wayes) He (my Shepheard) is my guide, Hee's before me, on my side, And behind me, He beguiles 25 Craft in all her knottie wiles: He expounds the weary wonder Of my giddy steps, and under Spreads a path, cleare as the day, Where no churlish rub says nay 30 To my joy-conducted feet, Whilst they gladly goe to meet Grace and Peace, to learne new laies, Tun'd to my great Shepheard's praise. Come now all ye terrors sally, 35 Muster forth into the valley, Where triumphant darknesse hovers With a sable wing, that covers Brooding horror. Come, thou Death, Let the damps of thy dull breath 40 Over-shadow even that shade, And make Darknes' selfe afraid; There my feet, even there, shall find Way for a resolvèd mind. Still my Shepheard, still my God, 45 Thou art with me; still Thy rod, And Thy staffe, whose influence Gives direction, gives defence. At the whisper of Thy word Crown'd abundance spreads my boord: 50 While I feast, my foes doe feed Their ranck malice not their need, So that with the self-same bread They are starv'd and I am fed. How my head in ointment swims! 55 How my cup o'relooks her brims! So, even so still may I move, By the line of Thy deare love; Still may Thy sweet mercy spread A shady arme above my head, 60 About my paths; so shall I find, The faire center of my mind, Thy temple, and those lovely walls Bright ever with a beame, that falls Fresh from the pure glance of Thine eye, 65 Lighting to Eternity. There I'le dwell for ever; there Will I find a purer aire To feed my life with, there I'le sup Balme and nectar in my cup; 70 And thence my ripe soule will I breath Warme into the armes of Death.

NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

In the SANCROFT MS. this is headed 'Ps. 23 (Paraphrasia).' In line 4 it reads 'paths' for 'wayes,' which I accept; line 27 'weary' for 'giddy,' and line 28 'giddy' for 'weary,' both adopted; line 29 reads as we have printed instead of 'Spreads a path as cleare as day;' line 33, 'learne' for 'meet,' adopted; line 41, 'that' for 'the,' adopted. Only orthographic further variations. In line 30 'rub' = obstruction, reminds of SHAKESPEARE'S 'Now every _rub_ is smoothèd in our way' (Henry V. ii. 2), and elsewhere. G.

PSALM CXXXVII.[35]

On the proud banks of great Euphrates' flood, 1 There we sate, and there we wept: Our harpes, that now no musick understood, Nodding, on the willowes slept: While unhappy captiv'd wee, 5 Lovely Sion, thought on thee. They, they that snatcht us from our countrie's breast, Would have a song carv'd to their eares In Hebrew numbers, then (O cruell jest!) When harpes and hearts were drown'd in teares: 10 Come, they cry'd, come sing and play One of Sion's songs to-day. Sing? play? to whom (ah!) shall we sing or play, If not, Jerusalem, to thee? Ah! thee Jerusalem! ah! sooner may 15 This hand forget the masterie Of Musick's dainty touch, than I The musick of thy memory. Which when I lose, O may at once my tongue Lose this same busie-speaking art, 20 Vnpearch't, her vocall arteries unstrung, No more acquainted with my heart, On my dry pallat's roof to rest A wither'd leaf, an idle guest. No, no, Thy good Sion, alone, must crowne 25 The head of all my hope-nurst joyes. But Edom, cruell thou! thou cryd'st downe, downe Sinke Sion, downe and never rise, Her falling thou did'st urge and thrust, And haste to dash her into dust: 30 Dost laugh? proud Babel's daughter! do, laugh on, Till thy ruine teach thee teares, Even such as these; laugh, till a venging throng Of woes, too late, doe rouze thy feares: Laugh, till thy children's bleeding bones 35 Weepe pretious teares upon the stones.

IN THE HOLY NATIVITY OF OVR LORD GOD:

A HYMN SVNG AS BY THE SHEPHEARDS.[36]

THE HYMN.

_Chorvs._

Come, we shepheards, whose blest sight 1 Hath mett Loue's noon in Nature's night; Come, lift we vp our loftyer song And wake the svn that lyes too long.

To all our world of well-stoln joy 5 He slept; and dreamt of no such thing. While we found out Heaun's fairer ey And kis't the cradle of our King. Tell him He rises now, too late To show vs ought worth looking at. 10

Tell him we now can show him more Then he e're show'd to mortall sight; Then he himselfe e're saw before, Which to be seen needes not his light. Tell him, Tityrus, where th' hast been, 15 Tell him Thyrsis, what th' hast seen.

TITYRUS.

Gloomy night embrac't the place Where the noble Infant lay. The Babe look't vp and shew'd His face; In spite of darknes, it was day. 20 It was Thy day, Sweet! and did rise Not from the East, but from Thine eyes.

_Chorus._ It was Thy day, Sweet.

THYRSIS.

Winter chidde aloud, and sent The angry North to wage his warres. 25 The North forgott his feirce intent, And left perfumes in stead of scarres. By those sweet eyes' persuasiue powrs Where he mean't frost, he scatter'd flowrs.

_Chorus._ By those sweet eyes. 30

BOTH.

We saw Thee in Thy baulmy-nest, Young dawn of our æternall Day! We saw Thine eyes break from their East And chase the trembling shades away. We saw Thee; and we blest the sight, 35 We saw Thee by Thine Own sweet light.

TITYRUS.

Poor world (said I), what wilt thou doe To entertain this starry Stranger? Is this the best thou canst bestow? A cold, and not too cleanly, manger? 40 Contend, the powres of Heau'n and Earth, To fitt a bed for this huge birthe?

_Chorus._ Contend the powers.

THYRSIS.

Proud world, said I, cease your contest And let the mighty Babe alone. 45 The phænix builds the phænix' nest, Lov's architecture is his own. The Babe whose birth embraues this morn, Made His Own bed e're He was born.

_Chorus._ The Babe whose.... 50

TITYRUS.

I saw the curl'd drops, soft and slow, Come houering o're the place's head; Offring their whitest sheets of snow To furnish the fair Infant's bed: Forbear, said I; be not too bold, 55 Your fleece is white but 'tis too cold.

_Chorus._ Forbear, sayd I.

THYRSIS.

I saw the obsequious Seraphims Their rosy fleece of fire bestow. For well they now can spare their wing, 60 Since Heavn itself lyes here below. Well done, said I; but are you sure Your down so warm, will passe for pure?

_Chorus._ Well done, sayd I.

TITYRUS.

No, no! your King's not yet to seeke 65 Where to repose His royall head; See, see! how soon His new-bloom'd cheek Twixt's mother's brests is gone to bed. Sweet choise, said we! no way but so Not to ly cold, yet sleep in snow. 70

_Chorus._ Sweet choise, said we.

BOTH.

We saw Thee in Thy baulmy nest, Bright dawn of our æternall Day! We saw Thine eyes break from their East And chase the trembling shades away. 75 We saw Thee: and we blest the sight, We saw Thee, by Thine Own sweet light.

_Chorus._ We saw Thee, &c.

FVLL CHORVS.

Wellcome, all wonders in one sight! Æternity shutt in a span! 80 Sommer in Winter, Day in Night! Heauen in Earth, and God in man! Great, little One! Whose all-embracing birth Lifts Earth to Heauen, stoopes Heau'n to Earth.

Wellcome, though not to gold nor silk, 85 To more then Cæsar's birth-right is; Two sister-seas of virgin-milk, With many a rarely-temper'd kisse, That breathes at once both maid and mother, Warmes in the one, cooles in the other. 90 Shee sings Thy tears asleep, and dips Her kisses in Thy weeping eye; She spreads the red leaves of Thy lips, That in their buds yet blushing lye; She 'gainst those mother-diamonds, tries 95 The points of her young eagle's eyes. Wellcome, though not to those gay flyes, Guilded i' th' beames of earthly kings; Slippery soules in smiling eyes; But to poor shepheards' home-spun things; 100 Whose wealth's their flock; whose witt, to be Well-read in their simplicity. Yet when young April's husband-showrs Shall blesse the fruitfull Maja's bed, We'l bring the first-born of her flowrs 105 To kisse Thy feet and crown Thy head. To Thee, dread Lamb! Whose loue must keep The shepheards, more then they the sheep.

To Thee, meek Majesty! soft King Of simple Graces and sweet Loves: 110 Each of vs his lamb will bring, Each his pair of sylver doues: Till burnt at last in fire of Thy fair eyes, Ourselues become our own best sacrifice.

NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

In the SANCROFT MS. the heading is simply 'A Hymne of the Nativitie sung by the Shepheards.' It furnishes these various readings, though it wants a good deal of our text (1652):

Lines 1 to 4,

'who haue seene Daie's King deposèd by night's Queene. Come lift we up our lofty song, To wake the sun that sleeps too long.'

" 5 to 7,

'Hee (in this our generall joy) Slept ... ... the faire-ey'd boy.'

" 24, 'Winter chid the world ...'

" 32, 'Bright dawne ...'

" 58 to 63,

'I saw the officious angells bring The downe that their soft breasts did strow: For well they now can spare their wings, When heauen itselfe lies here below. Faire youth (said I) be not too rough, Thy downe (though soft)'s not soft enough.'

'Officious' = ready to do good offices: 'obsequious' = obedient, eager to serve.

Lines 65 to 68,

'The Babe noe sooner 'gan to seeke Where to lay His louely head; But streight His eyes advis'd His cheeke 'Twixt's mother's breasts to goe to bed.'

" 79, 'Welcome to our wond'ring sight.'

" 83, 'glorious birth.'

" 85, 'not to gold' for 'nor to gold:' adopted.

" 96, 'points' = pupils (?).

Lines 101 to 103,

'But to poore shepheards' simple things, That vse not varnish; noe oyl'd arts, But lift cleane hands full of cleare hearts.'

" 108, '... while they feed the sheepe.'

" 114, 'Wee'l burne ...'

These variations agree with the text of 1646. See our Essay for critical remarks. G.

NEW YEAR'S DAY.[37]