THE tongue of guiltlesse blood is never ti’d

In the earth’s mouth, & though the greedy ground

Her gaping crannies quickly did provide,

To drinke the liquor of Uriah’s wound,

Yet it with moanes, bescattered the skies,

And the revoicing Eccho, with replies,

Did descant on the playnsong of the cries.

Hereat the Lord, perceiving how the field,

Hee sow’d with grace, and compast with an heape,

Of many mercies, store of sinnes did yeild,

Where he expected store of thankes to reape,

With flames of anger, furnace-like be burn’d,

For patience long despis’d, and lewdly spurn’d

Is at the length to raging fury turn’d.

Then all the Creatures, mustered their traine,

From Angells unto worms, the blinde did see

Their Lord disgrac’t, whose honour to maintaine

Things wanting life, most lively seeme to be;

Refusing all to serve Man, that refus’d:

To serve his God, all striving to be us’d,

To punish him, his maker that abus’d:

Please it your Highnes, for to give me leave,

Il’e scorch the wretch to cinders, said the Fire;

Send me, said Aire, him Il’e of breath bereave;

No, quoth the earnest Water, I desire

His soylie sinnes with deluges to scoure;

Nay, let my Lord quoth Earth, imploy my power,

With yawning chapps, I will him quick devoure.

Soone with a word, the Lord appeas’d this strife,

Injoyning silence, till he did unfold

That precious volume, cald The booke of life,

Which he the Printer, priviledg’d of old,

Containing those he freely did imbrace,

Nor ever would I wish an higher grace,

Than in this Booke to have the lowest place.

Within this Booke, hee sought for Davids name,

Which having found, he proffered to blot,

(And David surely well deserv’d the same,

That did his nature so with sinne bespot,

Though none are blotted out, but such as never

Were written in, nothing Gods love can sever,

Once written there, are written there for ever.)

Strait from his throne, the Prince of peace arose,

And with embraces did his Father binde,

Imprisoning his armes, he did so close,

(As loving Ivye on an oake did winde,

And with her curling flexures it betraile)

His father glad, to finde his force to fayle,

Strugled, as one not willing to prevaile.

Thus then began the Spotlesse lambe to speake,

(One word of whom, would rend the sturdy rocke;

Make hammer-scorning Adamant to breake,

And unto sense, perswade the sensles stocke,

Yea God himselfe, that knowes not to repent,

Is made by his petitions, penitent,

His Justice made, with Mercy to relent)

Why doth my Fathers fury burne so fierce?

Shall Persian lawes unalterable stand?

And shall my Lord decree, and then reverse,

Enact, and then repeale, and countermand?

Tender thy credit, gracious God, I crave,

And kill not him, thou didst conclude to save,

Can these hands blot, what these hands did ingrave?

Hath not thy wisdome, from eternity,

Before the worlds foundation first was lay’d,

Decree’d, the due time once expir’d, that I

Should Flesh become, and Man borne of a Maide?

To live in poverty, and dye with paine,

That so thy Sonne, for sinners vilely slaine,

Might make vile Sinners bee thy Sonnes againe.

Let me, oh let me, thy feirce wrath asswage,

And for this sinner, begg a full discharge,

What though hee justly doth provoke thy rage?

Thy Justice I will satisfie at large.

If that the Lord of life must murder’d bee,

Let mee intreat, this murd’rer may goe free,

My Meritts cast on him, his Sinnes on me.

Thus speaking, from his fragrant cloaths there went

A pleasant breath, whose odour did excell,

Myrrhe, Aloes, and Cassia for sent,

And all perfum’d his Father with the smell,

Whereat his smoothed face most sweetly smil’d,

And hugging in his arms, his dearest child,

Return’d these welcome words, with voyce most milde.

Who can so pleasing violence withstand?

Thy craving, is the having a request,

Such mild intreaties, doe my heart command,

The ’mends is made, and pacifi’d I rest:

As far as Earth, from Heaven doe distant lye,

As East is parted from the Westerne skye,

So far his sinnes, are sever’d from mine eye.

Hereat the heavenly Quire, lift up their voyce,

Angells and Saints imparadis’d combine,

Upon their golden Violls, to rejoyce,

To rayse the prayse of the coelestiall Trine,

All in their songs a sacred strife exprest,

Which should sing better, and surpasse the rest,

All did surpasse themselves, and sang the best.

Then said the Fire, my fury I recant,

Life-hatching warmth, I will for him provide:

If Davids breathlesse lungs do chance to pant,

Said Aire, Il’e fanne them with a windy tide:

With moisture, Il’e said Water, quench his heat,

And I his hunger, quoth the Earth, with meat,

Of marrow, fatnesse, and the flower of Wheat.

Thus when a Lord, long buried in disgrace,

A King to former favor doth restore,

With all respect the Court doth him embrace,

Fawning as fast, as they did flowte before:

Whose smiles, or frownes, are but the bare reflexiō

Of the Kings face, and like to this direction,

Where hee affects, they settle their affection.

PLaine-dealing Nathan, presently was sent:

Nathan, than whom, was none more skil’d to lanch

A festred soule, and with a searching tent,

To sound the sore; more cunning none to stanch

A bleeding-hearted sinner, nor more kinde,

With swadling cloaths of comfort, for to binde

Unjoynted members, of a troubled minde.

Hee did not flow with wealth, which envye breeds,

Nor yet was he with penury opprest;

Want is the cause, from which contempt proceeds:

His meanes were in the meane, and that’s the best.

High hills are parcht with heate, or hid with snow,

And humble dales, soone drown’d, that lie too low,

Whilst happy graine, on hanging hills doth grow.

For sundry duties, he did dayes devide,

Making exchange of worke, his recreation;

For prayer, he set the precious morne aside,

The midday he bequeath’d to meditation:

Sweete sacred stories, he reserv’d for night,

To read of Moses meeknes, Sampsons might,

These were his joy, these onely his delight.

But now dispensing with his dayly taske,

To court he comes, and wisely did invent,

Under a parable, his minde to maske,

Seeming to meane nought lesse, than what he meant,

And Lapwing-like, round fluttering a while,

With far-fetcht praeface and a witty wile,

Hee made the King himselfe for to beguile,

Thus he that thought all mortall men to cheate,

And with false shewes, his secret sinnes to shade,

Was couzned by the innocent deceite,

Of one plaine Prophet, and directly made,

As he a Judge sate on the bench, to stand,

At barr a prisoner, holding up his hand,⁴⁴Thou art the man.

But first condemned by his owne command.⁵⁵The man that hath done this thing shal dye.

Goe fond affectors of a flanting straine,

Whose sermons strike at sinnes with slenting blowes,

Give me the man that’s powerfull and plaine,

The Monster Vice, unmasked to expose:

Such Preachers doe the soule, and marrow part,

And cause the guilty conscience to smart,

Such please no itching eares, but peirce the heart.

This made King Davids marble minde to melt,

And to the former temper to returne,

Thawing his frozen breast, when as he felt

The lively sparks of grace therein to burne,

Which under ashes cold, were choakt before;

And now hee weeps, and wayles, and sighs full sore,

Though sure such sorrow, did his joy restore.

So have I seene one slumber’d in a swound,

Whose sullen soule into his heart did hye,

His pensive frien’ds, soone heave him from the ground,

And to his face life-water doe apply:

At length, a long-expected sigh doth strive

To bring the wellcome newes, the man’s alive,

Whose soule at last, doth in each part arive.

Then to his Harpe, he did himselfe betake,

(His tongue-tide harpe, long growne out of request,)

And next to this his glory must awake,

The member he of all accounted best:

Then with those hands, which hee for griefe did wring,

Hee also lightly strikes the warbling string,

And makes one voice serve both to sob and sing.

That heavenly voyce to heare, I more desire,

Than Syren’s sweetest songs, than musicke made

By Philomele chiefe of the winged quire;

Or him, whose Layes so pleasing, did perswade

Stones for to lackey, when he went before,

Or that brave harper, whom unto the shore,

His hackny Dolphin safely did restore.