Brittons Diuinitie.
©Eric Miller, Jan. 16, 2016
[The following
poem, in quasi-modernization, by ELM, Jan., 2016. Above link to on-line text of
The Arbor Of Amorous Deuices, 1597]
The following
poem, earlier published as, Love, is,
I believe a poem by Lord Oxford/Shakespeare/Ignoto—at least ‘tis so to this
poet’s ear, eye, and analysis. So as not to mar the beauty of the text, I shall
make remarks separate from the text.
From
worldly cares and wanton love’s conceit,
Begun in
grief and ended in deceit:
I am conjur’d
by hope of happy bliss,
Where heavenly
faith and highest favor is,
To call my wits and all my thoughts
together,
To
write of heaven, and of the high-way thither.
The holy
spirit of eternal power,
Vouchsafe
his grace to guide my soul aright,
That
patient heart may find the happy hour,
When I
may see the glory of that sight,
That in conceit so fully may content me,
As
nought on earth be able to torment me.
I ask no
aid of any earthly muse,
Far be my
fancy from such fond affect:
But in
the heaven where highest Angels use,
To sing
the sweet of faithful loves effect,
Among those spirits of especial grace,
I wish
my soul might have a sitting place.
Where
first the tears of true repentant hart,
With
faithful hope may happy favor moue,
And
sighing sobs of sorrows bitter smart,
May see
the life of undeserved love:
Thence would I crave some excellence divine,
To set
my foot in this discourse of mine.
To judge
of heaven it is a place of joy,
Where
happy souls have their eternal rest,
Where
sweet delights doe suffer no annoy,
But all
things good and onely on the best.
Where comforts more than man can
comprehend,
And
such contents as never can have end.
It is the
Throne of high Jehovah sweet,
The God
of power, of glory and of grace,
Where virtue
dwells, and her adherents meet,
In joyful
fear to see his heavenly face,
Where holy saints and highest Angels
sing
An Alleluia to
their heavenly King.
There is
the day, and there is never night,
There ever
joy, and there is never sorrow,
There never
wrong, but there is ever right,
There ever
have, and never need to borrow.
There ever love, and there is never hate,
Never
but there was ever such a state.
There all
the graces doe agree in one,
There liveth
brethren in one link of love,
There all
the saints do fear one King alone,
Who gives
the bliss of highest hearts behoove.
There is the place of perfect paradise,
Where
conscience lives and comfort never dies.
There is
the Sun, the beauty of the sky,
The Moon
and Stars, the candles of the night,
There is
the essence of that heavenly eye,
That
blinds the proud and gives the humble light,
There is the rainbow bended by his hand,
Who
doth both heaven, earth, sea, & hell cōmand
There
sitteth God in glory of this throne,
With
Virgins, saints and Angels all attended,
Who in
his Ire hath Kingdoms overthrown,
And in
his love hath little things defended,
Whose glory more than may by man be known,
And
glory most is in his mercy shown.
There
doth he sit in highest of his power,
Calling
the poor unto his rich relief,
Sowing
the sweet that killeth every sower,
Giving
the salve that healeth every grief:
Making them live that long were dead before,
And living so,
that they can die no more.
By him
alone the dumb do speak again,
Of him
alone the blind receive their seeing,
With him
alone is pleasure without pain,
In him
alone have blessed hearts their beeing:
To him alone, and onely but unto him,
All
glory due that al the world may doe him.
Now have
I writ, though far beneath the worth,
Of
highest Heaven, what happy heart conceiveth
Now will
I try in order to set forth,
Direction
such as never hope deceiveth,
How care may climb the hill of happiness
Where
is the heaven of highest blessedness.
Grace is
the ground of every good that is,
The
ground once good, how can the work be ill,
Then that
the mind may not be lead amiss,
Beseech
the help of his most blessed will:
Whose onely word sets down the passage
best
Of
humble souls to their desired rest.
Begin to leave,
and make an end to love,
Such
wanton thoughts as woeful sorrow give,
Be once
resolv'd and never doe remove,
To live
to die, as thou mayst die to live:
Which hell to hate, and seek for heavenly
bliss
Read of
the world, and tell me what it is.
The world
(in truth) is but a woeful vale,
Where grief
for grass, and sins do grow for feed,
Where
substance, sense and souls are set to sale,
While hoarders
heap that naked people need:
And for the gain but of a simple groat,
One man
wil seeke to cut another’s throat.
What is
there here that can content the hart?
That
knows content or what it doth contain:
What
thought so sweet but brings as sower a smart?
What
pleasure such but breeds a greater pain?
What thing so good but proves in fine so evil?
As (but
for God) would bear men to the devil.
What is
the earth? the labor of the life.
What is
the sea? a gulf of grisly lakes.
What is
the air? a stuff of filthy strife.
What is
the fire? the spoil of that it takes.
Since these are all whence everything doth
spring
What is
the world, but even a woeful thing?
What
thing is man? a clod of miry clay,
Slime of
the earth, a slave to filthy sin,
Springs
like a weed, and so doth wear away,
Goes to
the earth where first he did begin:
Think with thy self, when thou thy self art
such,
What is
in man that man should be so much?
What hath
the world to lead thy mind to love?
In true
effect, a fardle full of toys,
For why
the pith what every man doth prove,
The
perfect Gems are most unperfect joys:
Consider all what fancy bringeth forth,
The
best conceit will fall out nothing worth.
What
worldly things doe follow fancy most?
Wealth beauty
love, fine diet, honor, fame
What
finds affect? both love and labor lost,
Disdain, disease,
dishonor, death and shame.
Where care and sorrow, death and deadly
strife,
Doo
rule the roost in this accursed life.
What
thing is beauty? a color quickly gone.
And what
is wealth when riches fall to rust?
What
thing is love? a toy to think upon,
Fine
diet, dross to feed a filthy lust:
What worldly honor oft unworthy praise?
What
ease, the cause whereby the life decays?
What is
disdain? the scorn of proud conceit,
And what
disease, the death of discontent?
Dishonor
next the fruit of fond deceit.
And what
is death? the end of ill intent.
Now what is shame? a shameful thing to tell:
What is
the world but wicked’s way to hell?
For
beasts, for birds, for fishes, flowers and trees,
And all
such things created for our use,
What
thing is man to take such things as these,
By want
of grace to turn unto abuse?
Oh wretched world, when man that should be
best
In
beastly things proves worse than all the rest.
Thus have
I show’d the world and what is,
A wicked
place and full of wretched woes,
A sink of
sin shut out from heavenly bliss,
Where
lack of grace doth wit and reason loose:
So vile a thing as who in kind doth prove
it.
Will soon
confess he hath no cause to love it.
Now how
to leave this loath some life of outs,
The hateful
hell the ground of every grief,
Implore
the help of those assured powers,
Who never
fail the faithful soul relief:
Lay by these thoughts that are to be abhorred,
And set
thy heart upon the heavenly Lord.
First
know thy God, and what a God he is,
Without
beginning and can have no end,
Who in
his love created onely his,
And by
his hand doth ever his defend,
Whose glorious essence of his excellence,
Makes
highest powers to tremble at his presence.
He made
the world and what it doth contain,
Onely but
man he made unto his love,
And man’s
good will was his desired gain,
Till
proud attempt did high displeasure move:
He plagu'd his pride, yet when he saw his
pain.
He gave
the salve that healed the wound again.
He gave
the rules to guide the soul aright,
What it
should do, and what it should not doe,
He shew'd
the sum of his desires delight,
And what
the heart should set itself unto:
And in the good of his most gracious will,
He
shew'd the good that healed every ill.
He gave
the sun, the moon and stars a course,
That they
observe according to his will:
He makes
the tides to take their due recourse,
And sets
the earth where it doth settle still.
He made the substance of each element,
And
sets his foot upon the firmament.
He gives us
knowledge, and we will not know him
He bids us
ask, and we will never move him:
He bids us
come, and we are running from him:
He gives us
life, and yet we never love him:
He is our King, and we do not respect him:
He is
our God, and yet we do neglect him.
And
nought but man that can or dare devise,
How to
offend that holy will of his,
In onely
man that cursed humor lies,
That
makes no care to run his course amiss,
But day by day doth more and more offend
him.
Whose
onely hand doth from all hurt defend him.
Ungrateful
man whom God did onely make,
In love
to love, and with his love preserveth,
And for
his love endured for his sake
Such
death of life as dearest love deserueth:
What cursed hart would in displeasure move
him
That giving
all, asks nothing but to love him.
Oh love,
sweet love, oh high and heavenly love,
The onely
love that leads to happy life,
Oh love
that lives for living hearts behoove,
And makes
an end of every hateful strife:
How happy he that kindly can attain it
And how accurst that dare for to disdain it.
Love was
the cause that first we were created,
Love is
the life that we have given to lead,
Love is
the cause we never can be hated,
Love is
our life when other life is dead,
Love is the grace that highest good
doth give,
Learn but to love, and t'is enough to live.
First love
thy God that taught thee how to love,
Then love
the love that he in love hath taught thee.
That love
so fixed as nothing can remove.
The hope
of life that highest love hath wrought thee
Thus if thou love, thy love will be a
friend,
To gain the life where love will never end.
Finis.
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