Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 61, by EDWARD TAYLOR



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 61, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: My mights too mean, lend your angelick might
Last Line: Shall sing thy praises: and thy glory sound.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


My Mights too mean, lend your Angelick might
Ye mighty Angells, brightly to define.
A piece of burnisht brass, formd Serpent like
To Countermand all poison Serpentine.
No Remedie could cure the Serpents Bite
But One: to wit, The brazen Serpent's Sight.

Shall brass the bosoms poison in't Contain
A Counter poison, better than what beds
In Creatures bosoms? Nay, But its vertue came
Through that brass Shapt from God that healing sheds.
Its Vertue rode in th'golden Coach of th'eyes
Into the Soule, and Serpents Sting defies.

So that a Sight of the brazen Serpent hung
Up in the Banner Standard of the Camp
Was made a Charet wherein rode and run
A Healing vertue to the Serpents Cramp.
But that's not all. Christ in this Snake shapt brass
Raist on the Standard, Crucified was.

As in this Serpent lay the onely Cure
Unto the fiery Serpents burning bite,
Not by its Physick Vertue, (that is sure)
But by a Beam Divine of Grace's might
Whose Vertue onely is the plaster 'plide
Unto the Wound, by Faith in Christs blood di'de.

A Sight of th'Artificiall Serpent heales
The venom wound the naturall Serpent made.
A Spirituall Sight of Christ, from Christ down steals.
A Cure against the Hellish Serpents trade.
Not that the Springhead of the Cure was found
In Christs humanity with sharp thorns Crownd.

This Brazen Serpent is a Doctors Shop.
On ev'ry Shelfe's a Sovereign remedy.
The Serpents Flesh the Sovereign Salve is got
Against the Serpents bite, gaind by the eye.
The Eyebeames agents are that forth do bring
The Sovereign Counter poison, and let't in.

I by the fiery Serpent bitt be here.
Be thou my brazen Serpent me to Cure.
My Sight, Lord, make thy golden Charet cleare
To bring thy remedy unto my Sore.
If this thou dost I shall be heald: My wound
Shall sing thy praises: and thy glory sound.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...



Home: PoetryExplorer.net