So sits the earth's great curse in Adam's fall Upon my head; so I remove it all From th' earth unto my brows, and bear the thrall: Was ever grief like mine? Then with the reed they gave to me before, They strike my head, the rock from whence all store Of heav'nly blessings issue evermore : Was ever grief like mine? They bow their knees to me, and cry, Hail king: Yet since man's scepters are as frail as reeds, Was ever grief like mine? The souldiers also spit upon that face Which Angels did desire to have the grace, Thus trimmed forth they bring me to the rout, They leade me in once more, and putting then Was ever grief like mine? And now wearie of sport, glad to ingrosse Was ever grief like mine? My crosse I bear my self, untill I faint: Was ever grief like mine? O all ye who passe by, behold and see: Man stole the fruit, but I must climbe the tree; The tree of life to all, but onely me: Was ever grief like mine? Lo, here I hang, charg'd with a world of sinne, Was ever grief like mine? Such sorrow, as if sinful man could feel, But, O my God, my God! why leav'st thou me, The sonne, in whom thou dost delight to be? My God, my God Never was grief like mine! Shame tears my soul, my bodie many a wound; Sharp nails pierce this, but sharper that confound; Reproches, which are free, while I am bound: Was ever grief like mine? Now heal thyself, Physician; now come down. And father's smile for you, to feel his frown: Was ever grief like mine? In healing not myself, there doth consist Was ever grief like mine? Betwixt two theeves I spend my utmost breath, As he that for some robberie suffereth, Alas! what have I stollen from you? death: Was ever grief like mine? A king my title is, prefixt on high ; Yet by my subjects am condemn'd to die A servile death in servile companie : Was ever grief like mine? They gave me vineger mingled with gall, Was ever grief like mine? They part my garments, and by lot dispose Was ever grief like mine? Nay, after death their spite shall further go; For they will pierce my side, I full well know; That as sinne came, so sacraments might flow: Was ever grief like mine? But now I die; now all is finished. My wo, man's weal: and now I bow my head: Never was grief like mine! 5. THE THANKSGIVING. OH King of grief! (a title strange, yet true, Oh King of wounds! how shall I grieve for thee, Shall I weep bloud? why, thou hast wept such store, Shall I be scourged, flouted, boxed, sold? My God, my God, why dost thou part from me? Shall I then sing, skipping, thy dolefull storie, Shall thy strokes be my stroking? thorns, my flower? But how then shall I imitate thee, and Copie thy fair, though bloudie hand? Surely I will revenge me on thy love, And trie who shall victorious prove. If thou dost give me honour; men shall see, I will not marry; or, if she be mine, She and her children shall be thine. C My bosome friend, if he blaspheme thy name, When with the other I have done. That three years hence, if I survive, I'll build a spittle, or mend common wayes, But mend mine own without delayes. Then I will use the works of thy creation, As if I us'd them but for fashion. The world and I will quarrell; and the yeare Shall not perceive, that I am here. My musick shall finde thee, and ev'ry string Shall have his attribute to sing; That all together may accord in thee, And prove one God, one harmonie. If thou shalt give me wit, it shall appeare, If thou hast giv'n it me, 'tis here. Nay, I will reade thy booke, and never move Till I have found therein thy love; Thy art of love, which I'll turn back on thee, Then for thy passion-I will do for that- 6. THE REPRISALL. I HAVE Consider'd it, and finde There is no dealing with thy mighty passion: |