Theophila Or Loves Sacrifice. Canto Vi Poem by Edward Benlowes

Panduntur Coeli, juvat hinc invisere Divûm
Atria, mortali non adeunda Pede:
Hîc, Animae pennis advecta Theophila, cernit
Agmina Coelicolûm ducere sancta Choros.

Heav'ns Order, Beauty, Glory is descry'd;
Here, read the State o'th' Glorify'd,
Which Theophil i'th' Heraldry of Heav'n had ey'd.

Those happy Mansions, glorious Saint, discover,
Where the bright Host of Spirits hover!
Bring down all Heav'n before the Eyes o'th' Heav'nly Lover.

Frail Man, with Zeal, and Wonder here behold
Clay cast into a Heav'nly Mold:
Faith did, now Vision does Beatitude unfold.

The Tenants in This splendid Frame are They
Whose grosser and unpolish Clay,
Calcin'd in Graves, now Robes of Glory do array.

Here Martyrs sit enthron'd, who late did bleed
Sap from their fertil Wounds, to feed
With Oyl the Churches Lamps, and with red Dew her Seed.

These ovant Souls, Knights of Saint Vincent are,
For high Atchievements gain'd; each Scar,
To make a golden Constellation, seems a Star.

Not by inflicting, but receiving Blowes,
By suff'ring, They ore came their Foes:
How long, Lord, ere Thou do'st avenge their Blood on Those?

These own their Bliss, sprung from the Word & Will
O'th' Lamb, by Whom They conquer'd still.
Themselves, and that revolted Band that Hell do's fill.

Therefore, Each prostrate casts, with th' Elders, down
At the LAMBS Feet their Palm and Crown,
Beholding round all Eminencies, but their own.

Th' Apostles here, with Him, in whose sweet Tongue
The Lute of high--tun'd Love was strung,
When through so many Regions He the Gospel sung.

The loving, lov'd Evangelist here lives
On Loves pure Influence, and gives
No Bounds to's flaming Love, but how to heighten't strives.

Love was his only Theme. She, here is crown'd,
Who, neer Deaths Tomb, Life risen found;
Whose Eye--bowl was Tear--brimm'd, whose Towel Hair unbound.

Parcht Africks Glory, born in's Mothers Eyes,
(An happier Off--spring of her Cries,
Than of her Wom here to ecstatick Love does rise.

The Bounds are boundless of divine Amour;
Love hopes, and yet hath all Things, for,
In Heav'ns eternal Heraldry, true Love is Or.

Fruition Love enfires, thence Zeal's renu'd;
Love hath the SPIRITS Plenitude,
Burning with Flames in Splendor of Beatitude!

Love caus'd the SON of GOD from's Throne dismount,
And make Himself of no Account,
Become a Man of Sorrows, Who of Joy's the Fount!

This Love, by Quire of Heav'n scarce understood!
Could so much Ill cause so much Good,
For Mans Redemption that GODS SON should shed His Blood?

Thou, Love, when as my guilty Soul did dwell
In Nest of Ruine, did'st unshell
My Spirit (fledg'd with Grace) from that disord'red Cell,

And, having crusht the outward Film of Earth,
Gav'st Her, new form'd with Glory, Birth
That She might stye to th' Seat of Beatifick Mirth!

And praise Thee, with those Virgin--Souls, who in
The Cloysters of their Flesh have bin
Washt in their Saviours Bath of Blood from Spots of Sin.

Flow'rs on our Heads, as on their Stems, do grow,
Which into fadeless Colours flow,
Nor Cold to blast, nor Heat to scorch, nor Age they know.

Scenting 'bove thousand precious Ointments, shed
On consecrated Aarons Head;
Above pearl'd Dew on Hermons ever--fragrant Bed.

How far, immaculate Flames, do You excell
All that in Thoughts high Turret dwell!
What then can Opticks see? What then can Volumes tell?

If Beauties Self we could incarnate see,
Teeming with Youth and Joy, yet She
Would not so beauteous as the Virgin--Mother be.

Who, like a full--orb'd Moon, our Stars out--shin'd
In glorious Fulgurance of Minde!
For whose surpassing Splendour I this Ode desig'nd.

Hail, blessed Virgin--Spouse, who did'st bequeath
Breath unto Him, Who made Thee breathe!
And gav'st a Life to Him, Who gave the Life from Death!

Who bor'st Him in thy Womb, Whose Hands did stack
The studded Orbs with Stars, and tack
The glowing Constellations to the Zodiack!

And, what improves the Mystery begun,
New Mysteries from Thee were spun,
He did, at once, become thy Father, Spouse, and Son!

Conceiving HIM, as by the Womb, so th' Ear!
By th' Angels Tongue Heav'n cast Seed there!
Thou heard'st, believ'dst, & thence didst breed, & thence didst bear!

Thou only may'st (so it be humbly) boast
To have brought forth the Eternal Host
By mystick Obumbration of the HOLY GHOST!

By Thee did GOD and Man embrace Each other!
Thus, Heav'n to Earth became a Brother!
Thus, Thou, a Virgin, to thy MAKER wast a Mother!

Thy Fleece was wet, when all the Ground lay drie!
Drie, when all moist about did lie!
As Aarons rootless Rod, so didst Thou fructifie!

Thou art, from whence Faiths Burgeon sprang, the Ground!
Before, in, after Birth was found
Purenesse untoucht, with Virgin--Mothers Honour crown'd!

Thou, Shrine of Glory, Ark of Blisse, Thou, high
Fair Temple of Divinity,
In Thee, the Master--peece of Nature I descry!

My ravisht Soul (said She) extols His Name,
Who rules the Heav'ns expansed Frame,
Whose Mercie rais'd me up to magnifie the Same.

Who can anatomize the glorious List
Of Heirs to GOD, Coheirs with CHRIST,
Who Royalize it There by Graces high Acquist?

Whose several Glories admirable are!
And yet as Infinite, as Fair!
Where Alls's enjoy'd at Full; where every Thing is rare!

The Joy of Each One is the Joy of All!
Beatitude's reciprocall!
They drink Christs Cup of flowing Wine, who pled'gd his Gall!

Silence most Rhet'rick hath, and Glories best
Do pourtray forth that Royal Feast,
At which each blessed Saint is an Eternal Guest!

Nor can a Thought of earthly Friends Annoyes
Extenuate one Grain of Joyes,
While Mercy saves the Wise, while Justice Fools destroyes!

Strangely their Intellects enlightned be!
Natures Compendium did not see
One half; yea, ere He tasted the forbidden Tree!

If, that Sea--parting Prince, from cleft Rocks Space
Viewing GODS Back--parts, thought it Grace,
What Honour is it then to see HIM Face to Face!

Who doth inspirit the indeficient Ray,
Not dimm'd with a minute Allay;
Where, though no Sun ere rose, yet 'tis Eternal Day!

Where, All are fill'd, yet All from Food abstain!
Where All are Subjects, yet All reign!
All rich, yet have no Bags that stifled Wealth contain!

Where each Saint do's a glorious Kingdom own;
Where each King hath a starry Crown;
Each Crown a Kingdom, free from the rude Peoples Frown.

Where Each hath All, yet, more than All, They owe;
All Subjects, yet no Kings They know,
Save King of Kings, & Lord of Lords, who quel'd their Foe.

Where highest Joy is their perpetual Fare;
Their Exercise Hosannas are;
Spirits the Choristers, the Subject Praise and Prayer.

The Laureate King his Psalming Voice doth raise,
And sings to's solemn Harp high Layes,
Being Himself the Organ to His MAKERS Praise.

Enflam'd with holy Zeal, and high Desire,
Encircled with the Enthean Quire,
Warbles This Epinician Canzon to his Lyre.

Thou, Crown of Blisse, whose Footstool's Earth, whose Throne
Outshines ten thousand Suns in One,
Who art the Radical Life of all true Joy alone!

Royal PROTECTOR! when in THEE, Light's Sun,
Mortals wou'd deem the last Hour run,
We finde no Wane of Day, but a Solstitial Noon!

When, We Times Volumes of past Thousands scan,
Thy Origen with Time to span,
We finde no Track in Infant Age when It began!

Ancient of Dayes! to Whom all Times are Now;
Before Whom, Seraphims do bow,
Though highest Creatures, yet to their CREATOR, low!

Who art by Light--surrounded Powers obey'd,
(Heav'ns Host Thy ministring Spirits made)
Cloath'd with UBIQUITY, to Whom all Light is Shade!

Whose Thunder--clasping Hand do's grasp the Shole
Of total Nature, and unroul
The spangled Canopy of Heav'n from Pole to Pole!

Who, on the Clouds and Windes, thy Chariot, rid'st;
And, brideling wildest Storms, them guid'st;
Who, moveless, All dost move; Who, changing All, abid'st!

The Ocean Thou begirt'st with misty Shrouds;
That Monster wrapt'st in swathing Clouds,
And, with thy mighty Word controul'st tempestuous Flouds!

Earth--circling Oceans Thy Displeasure flee;
Mountains dismounted are by Thee;
Those airy Giants smoak if Thou incensed be!

Innumerable Troops of Joyes do stand
Before thy boundless Presence, and
Uncessantly attend Thy ever--blissefull Hand!

Thou, LORD; Good, without Quality, dost send
Blisse to All Thine; Great, without End;
Whose Magnitude no Quantity can comprehend!

What's worthlesse Man? what his earth--crawling Race?
That Thou shouldst such a shadow grace,
And in unspeakable triumphant Glory place!

Who may thy Mercies Height, Depth, Breadth extend?
In Height It do's to Heav'n ascend,
Confirms the Angels, and in Depth doth low descend,

Lessening the Pains o'th' damned ev'n in Hell;
In Breadth, from East to West do's swell,
And over all the World, and all thy Works excell!

Immense EXISTENCE! Heav'n's amaz'd at thy
INCOMPREHENSIBILITIE!
Intelligencies dread Thine All commanding--Eye!

Ye winged Hero's, whom all Blisse embow'rs,
To HIM in Anthems strain your pow'rs,
Whose Sea of Goodness has no Shoar, whose Age, no How'rs!

Then, ore the trembling Cords his swift Hand strayes,
And clos'd All with full Diapaze;
As, in a sounding Quire the well--strook Consort playes.

Victorious Jubilies, when Eccho'd clear
From the Church--Militant, are dear
To Heav'ns triumphing Quire; Such no gross Ear can hear.

Musicks first Martyr, Stradas Nightingale,
Might ever wish (poor Bird) to fall
On that excelling Harp, and joy i'th Funeral!

Had it but heard Those Ayrs, where Musick meets
With Raptures of Voice--warbled Sweets,
Flowing with ravishing Exces in Sions Streets.

All, what Symphonious Breaths inspire, All, what
Quick Fingers touch, compar'd, sound flat:
Could I but coyn a Word beyond all Sweets! 'Twere That

What Orders in New--Salems Hierarchie,
In what Degrees They enstated be,
Are Wings that mount my Thoughts to high Discovery.

Blest Sight, to see Heav'ns order'd Host to move
In Legions glist'ring All Above,
Whose Armour is true Zeal, whose Banner is pure Love!

Bright--harnessed Intelligencies! Who
Enucleate can your Essence so,
As Men may both your mighty Pow'r, & Nature know!

Invisible, impassive, happy, fair,
High, incorporeal, active, rare,
Pure, scientifick and illustrious Spirits You are.

Guesse at their Strength, by One; Was not almost
Two hundred thousand of an Host
By an Angel slain, when Assurs Chief 'gainst Heav'n did boast?

In Brightness They the Morning Star out--vie;
In Nimbleness the Windes out--flie;
And far surpasse the Sun--beams in Subtilitie.

Archangels, Those superiour Spirits, are
GODS Legats, when he will declare
His Minde to's Chosen; Gabriel did thus prepare

GODS Embassie, when his Belov'd did tie
Our Flesh to his DIVINITIE;
Grace was the Kisse, the Union was the Ring from High;

Angels the Posie sung: This, made our Clay
O're Empyraean Courtiers sway,
When as the SPOUSE his mystick Nuptials did display.

No sooner shall That great Archangel sound
His wakefull Trump of Doom to th' Ground,
And Eccho shall, as banded Ball, make quick Rebound;

But, pamper'd Graves, with all their Jawes, shall yawn;
And Seas, Flouds Nurse, strange Shoals shall spawn
Of Men, to wait o'th' dreadfull Judge at's Judgements Dawn.

To Incorruption then Corruptions Night
Shall turned be; for That strange Sight
Inebriates Souls with deepest Woes, or high'st Delight!

Then shall my Ear, my Nose, my Hand, Tongue, Eye,
Alwayes hear, smell, feel, taste, espye,
Hosanna's, Incense, Off'rings, Feasts, Felicitie!

To act GODS Will, ore sublunary Things,
The Dominations sway, as Kings;
He curbs Aerian Potentates, by th' Pow'rs He wings;

The Principates, of Princes take the Care,
T' enlarge their Realms, or to empair;
Virtues in acting of his Will have their full Share;

Thrones HIM contemplate, nor from's Presence move;
To Cherubs HE reveals Above
Hid Things; He Seraphins enflames with ardent Love.

Praecelling Seraphs shew GODS Ardor still;
Wise Cherubs his Abysse of Skill
In Governing of All; beatious Thrones instill

To us his Steddines in's blessed Throne,
Ever unalterably ONE;
Powr's, Virtues, Principates to his Commands are prone;

Dominions own his Regal Sway; and so
Archangels, Angels swiftly show
Agilitie that from the DEITIE do's flow.

Their Number's numberlesse, not half so few
As orient Pearls of early Dew;
Like Aromatick Lamps They in Heav'ns Temple shew:

And yet of Them though vast the Number be,
The Thing that most do's glorifie
Their MAKER's This, They differ specifically.

Of the first Machine They the Parcels are;
Yet, if we Them with GOD compare,
Then wth their Wings they skreen Themselves, though else most fair.

Lawlesse Desire do's never pierce their Breast;
Th' Almighties Face is still their Feast;
Their Blisse in Service lies, in Messages their Rest:

They speak with Thought, atchieve without a Fee;
Silence They hear, Idaeas see;
Still magnifying HIM, who cannot Greater be!

Thus, They, with one fleet Glance intuitive,
Into Each others Knowledge dive;
And, by Consent, Thoughts, else inscrutable, unrive.

Each One in Psalms Eternity employes;
Where Use nor tires, nor Fulness cloyes;
Enjoying GOD, their End, without an end of Joyes!

Each ravishing Voice, each Instrument, each Face
Compos'd such Musick, that I was
In Doubt, Each so in Tune, which did precede in Grace:

The spritely Instruments did sweetly smile;
The Faces play'd their Parts; mean while
The Voices, with both Graces, did them Both beguile.

The Nine--fold Quire such Heav'nly Accents there
In Sweets Extension still do rear,
As over--pow'r the Windings of a mortal Ear.

Who Musick hate, in barb'rous Discord rowle;
In Heav'n there is not such a Soul;
For, there's All--Harmony. Saints sing, the damned howl.

Coelestial Sweets did this Discourse excite;
Firm Joy, fast Love, fixt Life, fair Sight!
But may a Creature, its CREATORS Glory write?

Nunc alti Plumbum scrutatur Viscera Ponti,
Viscera Navarchae non repetenda Manu!
Hinc, procul optatam divino Lumine Terram
Cernimus, optatum perficiamus Iter!

Te DEUM Laudamus.