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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
GOOD FRYDAY, by JOSEPH BEAUMONT First Line: But now ye sceen is chang'd, chang'd is ye day Last Line: Who turnes ye crosse into so sweet a thing. Subject(s): Crucifixion; Good Friday; Grief; Holidays; Holy Week; Pain; Jesus Christ - Crucifixion; Sorrow; Sadness; Suffering; Misery | |||
BUT now ye Sceen is chang'd, chang'd is ye Day, Chang'd from it selfe, & clad in strange array Black as ye News it brings: A monstrous Night Usurps th' amazed houres of banish'd Light, Bidding ye Sun his revernd Eyes forbeare And snatch all Heavn from our curs'd Hemispheare. The World would not its God indure to see, And why should Heavn to it unveiled be? Let Night take Vengeance on that treacherous Noon Which strives t' extinguish Heavns Eternall Sun. Yet shall no cloud of Night or Shame forbid Our eyes attendance: JESUS is not hid To those, who know & love Him, & can spie Ev'n on his Crosse his true Divinitie. A glimpse wherof ye Thiefe with greedy Eyes No sooner stole, but straitway He descries This most abused & despised Thing To be a most sublime & potent King. And so had need to be, now Hell & Earth Are with confederate malice marched forth, And well appointed come into ye fight With all ye furniture of warlike spight, With swords, wth staves, wth whips, wth spears, wth thorns, Wth threats, revilings, Blasphemies & Scornes, Engins prepar'd on purpose to prevaile Upon his Body, & his Soule assaile; Engins enough against a Mortall Foe: And might have conquerd Him, had He been so. But He is their Almighty Friend, whose love The whole Worlds armed Hate cannot remove. He fights as well as They, & with more force; Yet against Them bends not its potent course, Nor thinks it can His Mighty Arme commend With peevish Dust & Ashes to contend. With Heavn He grapples, & by Valiant cries Full in ye face of Gods great Justice flies. Striving to stifle Vengeance, wch was now Upon its March to tame ye World below. O Noble Combat! Men incounter Him, He wrestles with his God to rescue them. Father, by all th' inchanting Powers wch lie Treasur'd up in that Sweet Names Epitomie, Regard ye Prayers of thy Dying Son Who Dyes for what He prayes: Let me alone Spend all thy Quiver, that no Arrow may Be left, these poor unwitting Men to slay. Hell has deceiv'd them; tis not They, but Hell That kicks at Heavn. O let this Blood they spill Wash their Mistake away, & wooe their eyes To answer these my Wounds: O let my Cries And sighs rebound from thine appeased Eare Upon their Hearts, & raise a Tempest there Of penitentiall sorrow; so shall I See them begin to live for whom I die. O blessed JESU, how wilt thou repay Those, who shall love Thee, & thy will obey If such delicious vengeance Thou dost take On them, who both thy Laws, & Body break, Who broach thy veins, & make Thee look as red With blood, as they with Crimes are coloured; Who having nayld Thee to thy Torments, crie, Come downe, & save thy Selfe from Miserie. O no, Thou wilt not come; tis not thine owne Deare Life, which can perswade Thee to come downe. Tis not thy selfe, but them yt mock at Thee And at their owne prepar'd felicitie Whom Thou desir'st to save: ye more their spight Heightens their Crime, ye more thy Love doth fight By mediating for them: thy desire Is not to live longer then to acquire Their Pardon, who are busily imployd In murdering Thee, & their owne Soules beside. Now therfore hang'st Thou as a Mark, wherat All Tortures, Pains, & Pangs are to be shot. For these Thou woo'st, & these are easily won No Anguish but it seeks Thee out, not one Inhumane shamelesse Torment, but can find Some way to sting thy Body or thy Mind. Judas his monstrous Fact, ye High Priests Sin, The Peoples obstinate faults come flocking in, Adams & Eve's Rebellion, every Crime Which hath been hatched since ye birth of Time Or which ye ending Worlds last minute shall Be witnes to in one Black Tempest fall Upon thy single Head: ye mighty Lord Of ye Worlds Massy Pillars never stood So heavy on ye Center, as on thy Unpittied Heart this long Conspiracie Of raging rampant Sorrow. Yet is this Farre from ye Masterpiece of thy distresse. Some comfort would it be if Heavn would now A gentle & propitious aspect show. But no kind beam peeps from ye lowring skie To light so much as Hope: ye Fathers Eye Is shut against ye Son; oh bitter News! O who can help, if God to help refuse! Well may thy desolate State, Sweet JESU, now Unto thy Patience some complaint allow: Well may thy wondring Greife thus Question make, O God, my God, why dost Thou Mee forsake! And we will wonder too, why Rocks & Stones Deferre their Splitting, now such mighty Groanes Rend all ye Heavns; & why ye Graves forbeare To ope, & let thy trusty Friends appear And rise in time, if not to rescue Thee Yet to lend Pitty to thy Miserie. Surely such Griefe as thine was never heard: The whole world passeth by wthout regard, Leaving its Pains to Thee; & Thou alone Who need'st it most, find'st least Compassion; Thou find'st not that, which Thou to all dost lend, All are thy Foes, whilst Thou to all a Friend. O King of Patience, may thy Copie be Incouragement unto our Constancie. Afflictions now are pretious Things, since they Crown'd thy sweet Head, & in thy Bosome lay. May Enemies be too weak to force us to Hate them againe, whom thou hast loved so. (Thy Noble love to them has made them prove Well-worthy Objects of our poorer love.) So shall we welcome scornes, & hug Disgraces; So shall our Armes well practiz'd in imbraces Professe ye best of Fencing which is by All-patient Love to conquer Tyrannie. So shall our whips & Thorns forget to Us That ever they were steep'd in Bitternes; And these ye Arrows, those shall be ye Cords Which Divine Love to faithfull Hearts Affords. So shall thy Noble Crosse to our esteeme The Throne of Victory & Triumph seeme. It was of old ye Cursed Tree, but Thou By Death ye Tree of Life hast made it now: A Tree forever verdant, wch doth spread Its shade as far as Heavn its light doth shed. With humble kisses, & with Tears of joy May We acquaint with it, & let no Day Pass wthout thanks to our delicious King, Who turnes ye Crosse into so Sweet a Thing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PARTHENOPHIL AND PARTHENOPHE: MADRIGAL 14 by BARNABE BARNES SONNETS IN SHADOWS: 1 by ARLO BATES IN PRAISE OF PAIN by HEATHER MCHUGH THE SYMPATIZERS by JOSEPHINE MILES LEEK STREET by LAURE-ANNE BOSSELAAR Γενεθλιακον by JOSEPH BEAUMONT Γενεθλιακον by JOSEPH BEAUMONT A CONCLUSORIE HUMNE TO THE SAME WEEK; & FOR MY FRIEND by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |
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