Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 78, by EDWARD TAYLOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 78, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Mine eyes, that at the beautious sight of fruite
Last Line: If waft with gailes breath'd by the holy ghost.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


Mine Eyes, that at the Beautious Sight of Fruite
On th'Tree of, Knowledge, drew black venom in
That did bemegerim my brains at root
That they turnd round, and tippled me int' Sin.
I thus then in t'Barath'rick pit down fell.
Thats Waterless and next doore is to Hell:

No water's here: It is a Springless Well.
Like Josephs Pit, all dry of Comforts Spring.
Oh! Hopeless, Helpless Case: In such I fell.
The Creatures buckets dry, no help can bring:
Oh, here's a Spring: Indeed its Lethe Lake
Of Aqua-Infernales: don't mistake.

This Pit indeed's Sins Filthy Dungeon State,
No water's in't, but filth, and mire, Sins juyce.
Wherein I sinke ore Head, and Eares: sad fate,
And ever shall, if Grace hath here no Sluce.
Its Well Coards whip Coards are: not Coards to draw
(Like Pully Coards) out of this Dungeons maw.

Yet in the upper room of Paradise
An Artist anvill'd out Reliefe sure, Good,
A Golden Coarde, and bucket of Grace Choice
Let down top full of Covenantall blood.
Which when it touches, oh! the happy Cry!
The doores fly ope. Now's jayle's Deliverie.

This is a Spring of Liquour, heavenly, Cleare.
Its Streams oreflow these banks. Its boundless Grace
Whose Spring head's Godhead, and its Channells where
It runs, is Manhood veans that Christ keeps Chase
For it, and when it makes a Springtide Flood
This Pit is drown'd with Covenantall blood.

And now the Prisoners sent out, do come
Padling in their Canooes apace with joyes
Along this blood red Sea, Where joyes do throng,
And sayling in the Arke of Grace that flies
Drove sweetly by Gailes of the Holy Ghost
Who sweetly briezes all along this Coast.

Here's Covenant blood, indeed: and 't down the banks
Of this dry Pit breakes: Also 'tis a key
T'unlock the Shackles Sin hung on their Shanks
And wash the durt off: send them cleane away.
The Pris'ners freed, do on this Red Sea swim
In Zions Barke: and in their Cabbins sing.

Lord let this Covenantall blood send mee
Poore Prisner, out of Sins dry Dungeon pound.
And on this Red Sea saile mee safe to thee
In which none Israelite was ever drown'd.
My Sayles shall tune thee praise along this coast
If waft with Gailes breath'd by the Holy Ghost.





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