Made of meere love, and after liked well,
Seeing him lie like creature long accurst
In that deepe horror of despeyred hell, 130
Him, wretch, in doole would let no lenger dwell,
But cast out of that bondage to redeeme,
And pay the price, all were his debt extreeme.
Out of the bosome of eternall blisse,
In which he reigned with his glorious Syre, 135
He downe descended, like a most demisse
And abject thrall, in fleshes fraile attyre,
That he for him might pay sinnes deadly hyre,
And him restore unto that happie state
In which he stood before his haplesse fate. 140
In flesh at first the guilt committed was,
Therefore in flesh it must be satisfyde:
Nor spirit, nor angell, though they man surpas,
Could make amends to God for mans misguyde,
But onely man himselfe, who selfe did slyde. 145
So, taking flesh of sacred virgins wombe,
For mans deare sake he did a man become.
And that most blessed bodie, which was borne
Without all blemish or reprochfull blame,
He freely gave to be both rent and torne 150
Of cruell hands, who with despightfull shame
Revyling him, that them most vile became,
At length him nayled on a gallow tree,
And slew the just by most unjust decree.
O huge and most unspeakeable impression 155
Of loves deepe wound, that pierst the piteous hart
Of that deare Lord with so entyre affection,
And sharply launching every inner part,
Dolours of death into his soule did dart;
Doing him die, that never it deserved, 160
To free his foes, that from his heast had swerved!
What hart can feele least touch of so sore launch,
Or thought can think the depth of so deare wound,
Whose bleeding sourse their streames yet never staunch,
But stil do flow, and freshly still redound, 165
To heale the sores of sinfull soules unsound,
And clense the guilt of that infected cryme,
Which was enrooted in all fleshly slyme?
O blessed Well of Love! O Floure of Grace!
O glorious Morning Starre! O Lampe of Light! 170
Most lively image of thy Fathers face,
Eternall King of Glorie, Lord of Might,
Meeke Lambe of God, before all worlds behight,
How can we thee requite for all this good?
Or what can prize that thy most precious blood? 175
Yet nought thou ask’st in lieu of all this love,
But love of us, for guerdon of thy paine.
Ay me! what can us lesse then that behove?
Had he required life of us againe,
Had it beene wrong to aske his owne with gaine? 180
He gave us life, he it restored lost;
Then life were least, that us so litle cost.
But he our life hath left unto us free,
Free that was thrall, and blessed that was band;
Ne ought demaunds, but that we loving bee, 185
As he himselfe hath lov’d us afore hand,
And bound therto with an eternall band,
Him first to love, that us so dearely bought,
And next, our brethren, to his image wrought.
Him first to love, great right and reason is, 190
Who first to us our life and being gave;
And after, when we fared had amisse,
Us wretches from the second death did save;
And last, the food of life, which now we have,
Even himselfe in his deare sacrament, 195
To feede our hungry soules, unto us lent.
Then next, to love our brethren, that were made
Of that selfe mould and that selfe Makers hand
That we, and to the same againe shall fade,
Where they shall have like heritage of land, 200
How ever here on higher steps we stand;
Which also were with selfe same price redeemed
That we, how ever of us light esteemed.
And were they not, yet since that loving Lord
Commaunded us to love them for his sake, 205
Even for his sake, and for his sacred word,
Which in his last bequest he to us spake,
We should them love, and with their needs partake;
Knowing that whatsoere to them we give,
We give to him, by whom we all doe live. 210
Such mercy he by his most holy reede
Unto us taught, and to approve it trew,
Ensampled it by his most righteous deede,
Shewing us mercie, miserable crew!
That we the like should to the wretches shew, 215
And love our brethren; thereby to approve
How much himselfe, that loved us, we love.
Then rouze thy selfe, O Earth, out of thy soyle,
In which thou wallowest like to filthy swyne,
And doest thy mynd in durty pleasures moyle, 220
Unmindfull of that dearest Lord of thyne;
Lift up to him thy heavie clouded eyne,
That thou his soveraine bountie mayst behold,
And read through love his mercies manifold.
Beginne from first, where he encradled was 225
In simple cratch, wrapt in a wad of hay,
Betweene the toylefull oxe and humble asse,
And in what rags, and in how base aray,
The glory of our heavenly riches lay,
When him the silly shepheards came to see, 230
Whom greatest princes sought on lowest knee.
From thence reade on the storie of his life,
His humble carriage, his unfaulty wayes,
His cancred foes, his fights, his toyle, his strife,
His paines, his povertie, his sharpe assayes 235
Through which he past his miserable dayes,
Offending none, and doing good to all,
Yet being malist both of great and small.
And looke at last, how of most wretched wights
He taken was, betrayd, and false accused; 240
How with most scornefull taunts, and fell despights,
He was revyld, disgrast, and foule abused,
How scourgd, how crownd, how buffeted, how brused;
And lastly, how twixt robbers crucifyde,
With bitter wounds through hands, through feet, and syde. 245
Then let thy flinty hart, that feeles no paine,
Empierced be with pittifull remorse,
And let thy bowels bleede in every vaine,
At sight of his most sacred heavenly corse,
So torne and mangled with malicious forse, 250
And let thy soule, whose sins his sorrows wrought,
Melt into teares, and grone in grieved thought.
With sence whereof whilest so thy softened spirit
Is inly toucht, and humbled with meeke zeale,
Through meditation of his endlesse merit, 255
Lift up thy mind to th’ author of thy weale,
And to his soveraine mercie doe appeale;
Learne him to love, that loved thee so deare,
And in thy brest his blessed image beare.
With all thy hart, with all thy soule and mind, 260
Thou must him love, and his beheasts embrace;
All other loves, with which the world doth blind
Weake fancies, and stirre up affections base,
Thou must renounce, and utterly displace,
And give thy selfe unto him full and free, 265
That full and freely gave himselfe to thee.
Then shalt thou feele thy spirit so possest,
And ravisht with devouring great desire
Of his deare selfe, th
at shall thy feeble brest
Inflame with love, and set thee all on fire 270
With burning zeale, through every part entire,
That in no earthly thing thou shalt delight,
But in his sweet and amiable sight.
Thenceforth all worlds desire will in thee dye,
And all earthes glorie, on which men do gaze, 275
Seeme durt and drosse in thy pure sighted eye,
Compar’d to that celestiall beauties blaze,
Whose glorious beames all fleshly sense doth daze
With admiration of their passing light,
Blinding the eyes and lumining the spright. 280
Then shall thy ravisht soule inspired bee
With heavenly thoughts, farre above humane skil,
And thy bright radiant eyes shall plainely see
Th’ idee of his pure glorie present still
Before thy face, that all thy spirits shall fill 285
With sweete enragement of celestiall love,
Kindled through sight of those faire things above.
An Hymne of Heavenly Beautie
RAPT with the rage of mine own ravisht thought,
Through contemplation of those goodly sights,
And glorious images in heaven wrought,
Whose wondrous beauty, breathing sweet delights,
Do kindle love in high conceipted sprights, 5
I faine to tell the things that I behold,
But feele my wits to faile, and tongue to fold.
Vouchsafe then, O Thou most Almightie Spright,
From whom all guifts of wit and knowledge flow,
To shed into my breast some sparkling light 10
Of thine eternall truth, that I may show
Some litle beames to mortall eyes below
Of that immortall Beautie, there with Thee,
Which in my weake distraughted mynd I see.
That with the glorie of so goodly sight, 15
The hearts of men, which fondly here admyre
Faire seeming shewes, and feed on vaine delight,
Transported with celestiall desyre
Of those faire formes, may lift themselves up hyer,
And learne to love with zealous humble dewty 20
Th’ Eternall Fountaine of that heavenly Beauty.
Beginning then below, with th’ easie vew
Of this base world, subject to fleshly eye,
From thence to mount aloft by order dew
To contemplation of th’ immortall sky, 25
Of the soare faulcon so I learne to fly,
That flags awhile her fluttering wings beneath,
Till she her selfe for stronger flight can breath.
Then looke, who list thy gazefull eyes to feed
With sight of that is faire, looke on the frame 30
Of this wyde universe, and therein reed
The endlesse kinds of creatures, which by name
Thou canst not count, much lesse their natures aime:
All which are made with wondrous wise respect,
And all with admirable beautie deckt. 35
First th’ earth, on adamantine pillers founded,
Amid the sea, engirt with brasen bands;
Then th’ aire, still flitting, but yet firmely bounded
On everie side with pyles of flaming brands,
Never consum’d, nor quencht with mortall hands; 40
And last, that mightie shining christall wall,
Wherewith he hath encompassed this All.
By view whereof, it plainly may appeare,
That still as every thing doth upward tend,
And further is from earth, so still more cleare 45
And faire it growes, till to his perfect end
Of purest Beautie it at last ascend:
Ayre more then water, fire much more then ayre,
And heaven then fire appeares more pure and fayre.
Looke thou no further, but affixe thine eye 50
On that bright shynie round still moving masse,
The house of blessed gods, which men call skye,
All sowd with glistring stars more thicke then grasse,
Whereof each other doth in brightnesse passe;
But those two most, which, ruling night and day, 55
As king and queene, the heavens empire sway.
And tell me then, what hast thou ever seene
That to their beautie may compared bee?
Or can the sight that is most sharpe and keene
Endure their captains flaming head to see? 60
How much lesse those, much higher in degree,
And so much fairer, and much more then these,
As these are fairer then the land and seas?
For farre above these heavens which here we see,
Be others farre exceeding these in light, 65
Not bounded, not corrupt, as these same bee,
But infinite in largenesse and in hight,
Unmoving, uncorrupt, and spotlesse bright,
That need no sunne t’ illuminate their spheres,
But their owne native light farre passing theirs. 70
And as these heavens still by degrees arize,
Untill they come to their first movers bound,
That in his mightie compasse doth comprize
And carrie all the rest with him around,
So those likewise doe by degrees redound, 75
And rise more faire, till they at last arive
To the most faire, whereto they all do strive.
Faire is the heaven where happy soules have place,
In full enjoyment of felicitie,
Whence they doe still behold the glorious face 80
Of the Divine Eternall Majestie;
More faire is that where those Idees on hie
Enraunged be, which Plato so admyred,
And pure Intelligences from God inspyred.
Yet fairer is that heaven in which doe raine 85
The soveraine Powres and mightie Potentates,
Which in their high protections doe containe
All mortall princes and imperiall states;
And fayrer yet whereas the royall Seates
And heavenly Dominations are set, 90
From whom all earthly governance is fet.
Yet farre more faire be those bright Cherubins,
Which all with golden wings are overdight,
And those eternall burning Seraphins,
Which from their faces dart out fierie light; 95
Yet fairer then they both, and much more bright,
Be th’ Angels and Archangels, which attend
On Gods owne person, without rest or end.
These thus in faire each other farre excelling,
As to the Highest they approch more neare, 100
Yet is that Highest farre beyond all telling,
Fairer then all the rest which there appeare,
Though all their beauties joynd together were:
How then can mortall tongue hope to expresse
The image of such endlesse perfectnesse? 105
Cease then, my tongue, and lend unto my mynd
Leave to bethinke how great that Beautie is,
Whose utmost parts so beautifull I fynd;
How much more those essentiall parts of His,
His truth, his love, his wisedome, and his blis, 110
His grace, his doome, his mercy, and his might,
By which he lends us of himselfe a sight!
Those unto all he daily doth display,
And shew himselfe in th’ image of his grace,
As in a looking glasse, through which he may 115
Be seene of all his creatures vile and base,
That are unable else to see his face,
His glorious face, which glistereth else so bright,
That th’ angels selves can not endure his sight.
But we fraile wights, whose sight cannot sustaine 120
The
suns bright beames, when he on us doth shyne,
But that their points rebutted backe againe
Are duld, how can we see with feeble eyne
The glory of that Majestie Divine,
In sight of whom both sun and moone are darke, 125
Compared to his least resplendent sparke?
The meanes, therefore, which unto us is lent,
Him to behold, is on his workes to looke,
Which he hath made in beauty excellent,
And in the same, as in a brasen booke, 130
To reade enregistred in every nooke
His goodnesse, which his beautie doth declare,
For all thats good is beautifull and faire.
Thence gathering plumes of perfect speculation,
To impe the wings of thy high flying mynd, 135
Mount up aloft, through heavenly contemplation,
From this darke world, whose damps the soule do blynd,
And like the native brood of eagles kynd,
On that bright Sunne of Glorie fixe thine eyes,
Clear’d from grosse mists of fraile infirmities. 140
Humbled with feare and awfull reverence,
Before the footestoole of his Majestie,
Throw thy selfe downe with trembling innocence,
Ne dare looke up with corruptible eye
On the dred face of that great Deity, 145
For feare lest, if he chaunce to looke on thee,
Thou turne to nought, and quite confounded be.
But lowly fall before his mercie seate,
Close covered with the Lambes integrity
From the just wrath of his avengefull threate 150
That sits upon the righteous throne on hy:
His throne is built upon Eternity,
More firme and durable then steele or brasse
Or the hard diamond, which them both doth passe.
His scepter is the rod of Righteousnesse, 155
With which he bruseth all his foes to dust,
And the great Dragon strongly doth represse,
Under the rigour of his judgement just;
His seate is Truth, to which the faithfull trust;
From whence proceed her beames so pure and bright, 160
That all about him sheddeth glorious light.
Light farre exceeding that bright blazing sparke,
Which darted is from Titans flaming head,
That with his beames enlumineth the darke
And dampish air, wherby al things are red: 165
Whose nature yet so much is marvelled
Of mortall wits, that it doth much amaze
The greatest wisards which thereon do gaze.
But that immortall light which there doth shine
Is many thousand times more bright, more cleare, 170
More excellent, more glorious, more divine;
Through which to God all mortall actions here,
Complete Works of Edmund Spenser Page 159
