Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, S. BARNABIE, by JOSEPH BEAUMONT

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S. BARNABIE, by            
First Line: Mistaken priest / thou mightily disparagest
Last Line: Way to heavns gate through zeno's portch doth ly.
Subject(s): Saints; Worship

Thou mightily disparagest,
With those thy Oxen & thy Garlands, Him
Whom thou to deifie dost seem:
Thy calculation's still too low, for He
Is not thy Jupiter, but Barnabie.


Yet though above
Thy stupidly-adored Jove,
(That Jove who having been a famous Bull
Himself, for kindreds sake might well
Be to his cousen Oxen kinder than
To have them sacrific'd,) he's still a Man:


A Man like thee
In passionate infirmitie.
Which though thou doubtest now, thoud'st grant too true
Shouldst thou that Paraxysme view
Whose storm will their calm Union overbear
And Paul & Barnabie in sunder tear.


Pluck courage then
From hence: since Saints themselves are Men,
Men may be Saints, & humane Passions be
Cohabitants with Sanctity.
Prate not, proud Stoik, that the onely high
Way to heavns Gate through Zeno's Portch doth ly.

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