Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, EXORCISMUS, by HENRY MORE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

EXORCISMUS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: What's this that in my brest thus grieves and groanes
Last Line: So perish shall all humane thought.


What's this that in my brest thus grieves and groanes,
Rives my close-straitned heart, distends my sides
With deep fetch'd sighs, while th'other in fell pride
Resists and choaks? O hear the dreadfull moanes
Of thy dear son, if so him cleep I may.
If there be any sense 'twixt Heven and Earth,
If any mutuall feeling sure this birth
May challenge speed, and break off all delay.
You Winged people of the unseen sky
That bear that living Name in your pure brest,
Chariots of God in whom the Lord of rest
Doth sit triumphant, can not you espy
The self same Being in such jeopardy?
Make haste, make haste if you Gods army been,
Rescue his son, wreak your revengefull teen
On his fast holding Enemy.
Hath Nature onely sympathy?

What? may I deem you self-exulting sprights
Lock'd up in your own selves, whose inward life
Is self-contenting joy, withouten strife
Of doing good and helping wofull wights?
Then were you empty carres and not the throne
Of that thrice-beautious sun, the god of love,
The Soul of souls and heart of highest Jove,
If you to others good were not most prone.
Open thou Earth; unclose thou fast-bound ball
Of smoring darknesse! The black jawes of Hell
Shall issue forth their dead, that direfull cell
Of miscreant Lives that strive still to enthrall,
Shall let him go at last, and he ore all
Shall triumph. Then the gladsome Progeny
Of the bright Morning star shining on high,
Shall fill the Round aetheriall
With sound of voices musicall.

Nor yet this breath's quite spent. Swift flight of wing
Hath shot my soul from th'hight to th'depth again
And from th'depth to th'height. The glistring Main
Of flowing light and darknesses curs'd spring
I've mov'd with sacred words: (the extreme worlds
In holy rage assaulted with my spell)
I'll at the middle Movable as well
As those, and powerfull magick gainst it hurle.
You waving aires! and you more boistrous winds!
Dark Zaphons sons, who with your swelling blasts
Thrust out the ribs of heaven, and that orepast
Leave Nature languid to her wont confind,
Suppresse your spright and be at his command
Who on the troubled Galilean lake
Did wind and storm to him obedient make.
Let still serenity the land
Inclose about with steddy hand.

And you heaven-threatning rocks, whose tops be crown'd
With wreaths of woolly clouds, fall into dust.
And thou, O Ida hill! thy glory must
Consume, and thou lye equall with the ground.
O're quick-ey'd Ida! thou which seest the Sun
Before day spring? those Eastern spatterd lights
And broad spread shinings purpling the gay Night,
And that swoln-glowing ball; they'll all be gone.
You summer neezings when the Sun is set
That fill the air with a quick fading fire,
Cease from your flashings, and thou Self-desire
The worst of meteors, curs'd Voraginet!
The wind of God shall rend thee into nought
And thou shalt vanish into empty air,
Nor shall thy rending out leave any scarre.
Thy place shall not be found though sought;
So perish shall all humane thought.





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