The Second Week, Third Day, Part II: The Fathers

THE ARGUMENT.

The famous FATHER of the Faithfull, heer
Limn'd to the life, in strife of Faith and Fear:
His Sonn's sweet nature, and his nurture such,
Endeer his TRIAL with a neerer Touch:
REASON'S best Reasons are by FAITH refell'd;
With GOD, th' Affection, for the Action held:
So, counter-manding His command (atchiev'd)
The Sire's approoued, and the Son repriev'd.
Heer (had our Author liv'd, to end his Works)
Should haue ensu'd the other PATRIARCHS.

O! 'Tis a Heav'nly and a happy turn,
Of godly Parents to be timely born:
To be brought-vp vnder the watchfull eyn
Of milde-sharp Masters awfull Discipline:
Chiefly, to be (even from the very first)
With the pure milk of true Religion nurst.

Such hap had Isaac: but his Inclination
Exceeds his Birth, excels his Education.
His Faith, his Wit, Knowledge, and Iudgement sage,
Out-stripping Time, anticipate his age.
For (yet a Childe) he fears th' Eternall Lord,
And wisely waits all on his Fathers word;
Whose steady steps so duly he obserues,
That every look, him for a lesson serues:
And every gesture, every wink and beck.
For a command, a warning, and a check:
So that, his toward Diligence out-went
His Fathers hopes and holy document.

Now, though that Abram were a man discreet,
Sober and wise, well knowing what is meet;
Though his deer Son somtimes he seem to chide,
Yet hardly can he his affection hide;
For, evermore his loue-betraying ey
On's darling Isaac glanceth tenderly:
Sweet Isaac's face seems as his Glasse it were,
And Isaac's name is musick in his ear.

But God, perceiving this deep-settled Loue,
Thence takes occasion Abrams Faith to prooue;
And tempteth him: But not as doth the Divell
His Vassals tempt (or Man his Mate) to evill:
Satan still draws vs to Death's dismall Path;
But God directs where Death no entry hath:
Ay Satan ayms our constant Faith to foyl;
But God doth seal it, never to recoyl:
Satan suggesteth ill; God mooues to grace:
The Divell seeks our Baptisme to deface;
But God, to make our burning Zeal to beam
The brighter ay in his Ierusalem.

A Prince that means effectuall proof to make
Of som Man's Faith that he doth newly take,
Examins strictly, and with much a-doo,
His Words and Deeds, and every gesture too;
And, as without, within as well to spy-him,
Doth carefully by all means sift and try-him.

But God ne'r seeks, by Triall of Temptation,
To sound Man's heart and secret cogitation
(For, well he knowes Man, and his ey doth see
All thoughts of men, yer they conceived be):
But this is still his high and holy drift,
When through temptation he his Saints doth si•t,
To leaue for pattern to his Churches seed,
Their stedfast Faith, and never-daunted Creed.

Yet, out of season God doth never try
His new-converted Children, by and by:
Such novices, would quickly faint and shrink:
Such ill-rigg'd Ships, would even in launching sink:
Their Faith's light blossoms, would with every blast
Be blowen away, and bear no fruit at last:
Against so boistrous stroaks they want a shield:
Vnder such weight, their feeble strength would yield.
But when his Words deer seed that he hath sowen
Within their hearts, is rooted well, and growen:
And when they haue a broad thick Breast-plate on,
High peril-proof against affliction:
Such as our Abram: Who, now waxen strong,
Through exercise of many trials long,
Of faith, of loue, of fortitude, and right:
Who, by long weary wandrings day and night,
By often Terrors, Lots Imprisonment,
His Wifes twice taking, Ismaels banishment,
Beeing made invincible for all assaults
Of Heav'n and Earth, and the infernall Vaults;
Is tempted by the voyce which made all things,
Which sceptreth Shepheards, and vn-crowneth Kings.

Giue me a voyce, now, O voyce all divine.
With sacred fire inflame this breast of mine:
Ah! ravish me, make all this Vniverse
Admire thine Abram pourtrayd in my Verse.

Mine Abram, sayd the Lord, deer Abraham,
Thy God, thy King, thy Fee, thy Fence I am:
Hie straight to Salem, and there quickly kill
Thine owne Son Isaac; on that sacred Hill
Heaw him in pieces, and commit the same
In Sacrifice vnto the rage-full Flame.

As he, that slumbering on his carefull Bed,
Seems to discern som Fancy full of dread,
Shrinks down himself, and fearfull hides his face,
And scant draws breath in half an howrs space:
So Abraham, at these sharp.sounding words
(Which wound him deeper than a thousand swords)
Seised at once with wonder, grief, and fright,
Is well-nigh sunk in Deaths eternall night;
Death's ash-pale Image in his eyes doth swim,
A chilling Iee shivers through every lim,
Flat on the ground himself he groveling throwes,
A hundred times his colour coms and goes,
From all his body a cold deaw doth drop,
His speech doth fail, and every sense doth stop.

But, self-return'd, two sounding sobs he cast,
Then two deep sighes, then these sad words at last:
Cruell command, quoth He, that I should kill
A tender Infant, innocent of ill:
That in cold blood I (barbarously) should murder
My (fear-less, fault-less) faithfull Friend: nay (further)
Mine owne deer Son: and what deer Son? Alas!
Mine only Isaac (whose sweet vertues pass
The louely sweetnes of his angel-face)
Isaac, sole Pattern of now-Vertue knowen;
Isaac, in years yong but in wisedom growen:
Isaac, whom good-men loue, the rest enuy:
Isaac, my hearts heart my lifes life must dy.
That I should stain an execrable Shrine,
With Isaac's warm blood, issued out of mine.
O might mine serue, 't were tolerable loss,
'T were little hurt: nay, 't were a welcom cross.
I bear no longer fruit: the best of Mee,
Is like a fruit-less, branch-less, sap-less Tree,
Or hollow Trunk, which only serues for stais
To crawling Iuie's weak and winding sprais.
But losing Isaac, I not only leese
My life withall (which Heav'ns haue linkt to his)
But (O!) more millions of Babes yet vn-bore,
Than there be sands vpon the L•hian shoar.

Canst thou, mine Arm? O canst thou, cruell arm,
In Isaac's breast thy bloody weapon warm?
Alas! I could not but even die for grief,
Should I but but yield mine Ages sweet relief
(My bliss, my comfort, and mine ey's delight)
Into the hands of Hang-mens spare-less spight:
But that mine own self (O extreamest Rigour!)
What my self formed, should my self, dis-figure:
That I (alas!) with bloody hand and knife,
Should rip his bosom, rend his heart and life:
That (odious Author of a Precedent
So rarely ruth-less) I should once present,
Vpon a sacred Altar, an Oblation
So barbarous (O brute abhomination!)
That I should broyl his Flesh, and in the flame
Behold his bowels crackling in the same:
'Tis horrible to think, and hellish too,
Cruel to wish, impossible to doo.

Doo 't he that list, and that delights in blood:
I neither will, nor can becom so wood,
T' obey in this: God, whom we take to be
Th' eternall Pillar of all verity,
And constant faith; will he be faith-les now?
Will he be false, and from his promise bow?
Will he (alas!) vndo what he hath don,
Mar what he makes, and loose what he hath won?
Sail with each winde? and shall his promise, then,
Serue but for snares t' intrap sincerest men?

Somtimes, by his eternall self he swears,
That my Son Isaac's number-passing Heirs
Shall fill the Land, and that his fruitfull Race
Shall be the blessed levain of his Grace;
Now he commands me his deer life to spill,
And in the Cradle my health's Hope to kill:
To drown the whole World in the blood of him:
And at one stroak vpon his fruitfull stem,
To strike-off all the heads of all the flock,
That should heer-after his drad name inuoak,
His sacred nostrils with sweetsmels delight,
His ears with praises, with good deeds his sight.
Will God impugn himself? and will he so
By his command, his couenant ouer throwe?
And shall my faith, my faith's confounder be?
Then faith, or doubting, are both one to me.

Alas! what saist thou, Abram? pawse thou must.
He that revives the Phoenix from her dust,
And from dead Silk-worm's Toombs (their shining Clews)
A living bird with painted wings renews;
Will he forget Isaac, the only stock
Of his chaste Spouse (his Church and chosen flock).
Will he forget Isaac, the onely Light
Of all the World, for Vertues lustre bright?
Or, can he not (if't please him) even in death
Restore him life, and re-inspire him breath?

But mark, the while thou bringest for defence,
The All-proof Towr of his Omnipotence,
Thou shak'st his Iustice. This is certain (too)
God can do all, saue that he will not doo.
He loues none ill: for, when the wreakfull Waues
Were all return'd into their wonted Caues;
When all the Meads, and every fruitfull Plain,
Began (with ioy) to see the Sun again;
So soon as Noah (with a gladsom heart)
Forth of his floating Prison did depart,
God did forbid Murder: and nothing more
Then Murder, doth his Maiesty abhor.

But (shallow man) sound not the vast Abiss
Of God's deep Iudgements, where no ground there is:
Be sober-wise: so, bound thy frail desire:
And, what thou canst not comprehend, admire.
God our Law-maker (iust and righteous)
Maketh his Laws, not for himself, but vs:
He frees himself; and flies with his Powrs wing,
No where, but where his holy will doth bring:
All that he doth is good: but not therefore
Must he needs do it, 'cause 'twas good before:
But good is good, because it doth (indeed)
From him (the Root of perfect good) proceed:
From him, the Fountain of pure Righteousness:
From him, whose goodness nothing can express.

Ah, profane thoughts! O wretch! and think'st thou then
That God delights to drink the blood of men?
That he intends by such a strange impietie
To plant his seruice? You, you forged deitie
Of Molech, Milcom, Camosh, Astaroth,
Your damned Shrines with such dire Orgies blot:
You Tyrants, you delight in Sacrifice
Of slaughtered Children: 'tis your bloody guise
(You cruell Idols) with such Hecatombs
To glut the rage of your outrageous dooms:
You holde no sent so sweet, no gift so good,
As streaming Riuers of our luke-warm blood:
Not Abram's God (ay gratious, holy, kinde)
Who made the World but onely for Man-kinde:
Who hates the bloody hands: his Creatures loues:
And contrite hearts for sacrifice approues.
You, you, disguiz'd (as angels of the light)
Would make my God Author of this despight,
Supplant my Faith on his sure promise built,
And stain his Altars with this bloody guilt.

No, no, my ioy, my Boy thrice-happy born
(Yea more then so, if furious I, forlorn,
Hurt not thy Hap) a Father shalt thou be
Of happy People, that shall spring from thee.
Fear not (deer Child) that I, vnnaturall,
Should in thy blood imbrue my hand at all:
Or by th' exployt of such detested deed
Commend my name to them that shall succeed.
I will, the Fame that of my name shall ring
In time to com, shall fly with fairer wing.

The lofty Pine that's shaken to and fro
With Counter-pufs of sundry windes that blowe,
Now, swaying South-ward tears som root in twain,
Then, bending North-ward doth another strain,
Reels vp and down, tost by two Tyrants fell,
Would fall, but cannot; neither yet can tell
(Inconstant Neu•er, that to both doth yield)
Which of the two is like to win the Fi•ld.
So Abraham. on each side set-vpon
Betwixt his Faith and his Affection.
One while his Faith, anon Affection sways:
Now wins Religion, anon Reason waighs:
Hee's now a fond, and then a faithfull Father:
Now resolute, anon relenting rather:
One while the Flesh hath got the vpper hand:
Anon the Spirit the same doth countermand.
Hee's loth (alas!) his tender Son to kill;
But much more loth, to break His Fathers will.
For thus (at last) He saith, now sure I knowe
'Tis God, 'tis God; the God that loues me so,
Loues, keeps, sustains: whom I so oft haue seen:
Whose voice so often hath my comfort been.
Illuding Satan cannot shine so bright,
Though Angelliz'd: No, 'Tis my God of Might.
Now feel I in my Soule (to strength and stir-it)
The sacred Motions of his sacred Spirit.
God, this sad Sacrifice requires of me;
Hap what hap may, I must obedient be.

The sable Night dis-log'd: and now began
Aurora's Vsher with his windy Fan
Gently to shake the Woods on every side,
While his fair Mistress (like a stately Bride)
With flowrs, and Gems, and Indian gold doth spangle
Her louely locks, her Louers looks to tangle;
When gliding through the Ayr, in Mantle blew,
With siluer fring'd, shee drops the Pearly deaw.
With her goes Abram out: and the third day,
Arriues on Cedrons Margents greenly-gay:
Beholds the sacred Hil, and with his Son
(Loaden with sacred wood) he mounts anon.

Anon, said Isaac; Father, heer I see
Knife, fire, and faggot, ready instantly:
But wher's your Hoste? Oh! let vs mount, my Son,
Said Abram: God will soon prouide vs one.
But, scant had Isaac turn'd his face from him,
A little faster the steep Mount to climbe,
Yer Abram changed cheere; and, as new Win•,
Working a-new, in the new Cask (in fine)
For beeing stopt too-soon, and wanting vent,
Blowes-vp the Bung. or doth the vessell rent,
Spews out a purple stream, the ground doth stain,
With Bacchus colour, where the cask hath layn:
So, now the Tears (which manly fortitude
Did yerst as captiue in the Brain include)
At the deer names of Father and of Son,
On his pale Cheeks in pearly drops did run:
His eye's ful vessels now began to leak:
And thus th' old Hebrew muttering gan to speak,
In submiss voyce, that Isaac might not hear
His bitter grief, that he vnfoldeth heer.

Sad spectacle! O now my hap-les hand,
Thou whetst a sword, and thou do'st teend a brand;
The brand shal burn my heart, the sword's keen blade
Shall my bloods blood, and my lifes life, inuade:
And thou, poor Isaac, bearest on thy back,
Wood that shall make thy tender flesh to crack,
And yield'st thee (more for mine, than thine amiss)
Both Priest and Beast, of one same Sacrifice.
O hapless Son! O more then hap-less Sire!
Most wicked wretch! O what mis-fortune dire
In-gulfs vs heer! where miserable I,
To be true godly, must Gods law deny:
To be true faithful, must my faith transgress:
To be God's Son, I must be nothing less
Than Isaacs Sire: and Isaac (for my sake)
Must Soyl, and Sire, and life and all forsake.

Yet on he goes, and soon surmounts the Mount,
And steel'd by Faith, he cheers his mournful Front:
(Much like the Delian Princess, when her Grace
In Thetis Waues hath lately washt her face)
He builds his Altar, lays his wood ther-on,
And tenderly bindes his deer Son anon.

Father, said Isaac, Father, Father deer
(What? do you turn away, as loth to hear?)
O Father, tel me, tel me what you mean:
O cruelty vn-knowen! Is this the mean
Wherby my loyns (as promised long-since is)
Shal make you Grand-sire of so many Princes?
And shal I (glorious) if I heer do dy,
Fil Earth with Kings, with shining Stars the Sky?

Back, Phoebus: blush, go hide thy golden head:
Retire thy Coach to Thetis watery Bed:
See not this savage sight. Shal Abram's minde
Be milde to all, and to his Son vn-kinde!
And shal great Abram do the damned deed,
That Lions, Tygres, Boars, and Bears would dread!
See how (incenst) he stops his ear to me,
As dreaming stil on's bloody mystery.
Lord, how precise! see how the Paricide
Seems to make conscience in less sins to slide:
And he that means to murder me (his Son)
Is scrupulous in smaller faults to run.

Yet (Father) hear me: not that I desire
With sugred words to quench your Angers fire:
In Gods's name reap the Grain yourself haue sowen,
Com take my life, extracted from your own,
Glut with my blood your blade, if you it please
That I must die; welcom my death (mine ease):
But tell me yet my fault (before I die)
That hath deserv'd a punishment so high.
Say (Father) haue I not conspir'd your death?
Or with strong poyson sought to stop your breath?
Haue I deuis'd to short my Mother's life?
Or with your Foestaen part in any strife?

. O thou Ethereal Palace Crystalline
(God's highest Court) If in this heart of mine
So damned thoughts had ever any place,
Shut-vp for ever all thy Gates of Grace
Against my Soule; and neuer let, that I
Among thy winged Messengers do flie.

If none of these, Abram (for I no more
Dare call thee Father) tell me further-more
What rests besides, that damned I haue don,
To make a Father Butcher of his Son:
In memorie, that fault I fain would haue,
That (after God's) I might your pardon craue
For such offence; and so, th' Attonement driven,
You liue content, and I may die forgiuen.

My Son (said Hee) thou art not hither brought
By my fell furie, nor thine own foul fault:
God (our God) calls thee, and He will not let
A Pagan sword in thy deer blood be wet;
Nor burning Plague, nor any pining pain
With Languor turn thy flesh to dust againe:
But Sacrifiç'd to him (for sweet perfume)
Will haue thee heer within this fire consume.
What? Fears my Loue, my Life my Gem, my Ioy?
What God commands, his seruants must obey,
Without consulting with frail Flesh and Blood,
How he his promise will in time make good:
How he wil make so many Scepters spring
From thy dead dust? How He (All-wise) wil bring,
In his due season, from thy sense-less Thighes,
The glorious Son of righteousnes to rise,
Who shal the Mountains bruise with yron Mace,
Rule Heav'n and Earth, and the Infernal place?
For, he that (past the course of Natures kinde)
First gaue thee birth, can with his sacred Winde
Raise thee again out of the lowest iust.
Ten-thousand means he hath to saue the iust:
His glorious wisdom guides the worlds society,
With equall Reans of Power and of Piety.

Mine own sweet Isaac, deerest of my seed
(Too sweet, alas! the more my grief doth bleed,
The more my loss, the more (with cease-less anguish)
My vexed Bowels for thy lack shall anguish)
Adue deer Son (no longer mine, but his
Who call's thee hence) let this vn-happy kiss
Be the sad seal of a more sad Fare-wel
Than wit can paint, or words haue powr to tell.

Sith God commands, and (father) you require
To haue it so, com Death (no longer dire,
But glorious now) com gentle death, dispatch:
The Heav'ns are open, God his arms doth reach
T' imbrace my Soule: O! let me brauely fly
To meet my Lord, and Death's prowd darts defie.

What, Father, weep you now? Ah! cease those showrs:
Weep not for me; for I no more am yours:
I was the Lords yer I was born, you knowe;
And he but lent me for a while to you:
Will you recoyl, and (Coward) lose the Crown
So neer your head, to heap you with renown?
Shal we so dare to dally with the Lord?
To cast his yoak, and to contemn his Word?
Where shall we fly his hand? Heav'n is his Throne:
The Earth his foot-stool: and dark Acheron
(The Dungeon where the damned soules be shut)
Is of his anger euermore the Butt.
On him alone, all our good-hap depends:
And he alone from dangers vs defends.

Ah! weep no more: This sacred Turf doth craue
More blood than Tears: let vs vs so behaue,
That ioyn'd in zeal, we yield vs willingly
To make a vertue of necessity.
Let's testifie we haue a time abod,
I in your School, you in the school of God:
Where, we haue learned that his sacred Word
(Which made of Nothing, all that euer stirr'd;
Which all sustaines, and all directeth still)
To diuers ends, conducts the good and ill.

Who loues not God, more than all Kinn's. respect,
Deserues no place among his deer Elect:
And who doth once God's Till age vnder-take,
Must not look back, neither his Plough forsake.

Here-with, th' old Hebrew cheerfuller becam,
And (to himself) cries, Courage Abraham:
The World, the Flesh, Adam, are dead in thee:
God, Spirit, and Faith, alone subsisting be.
Lord, by thy Spirit vnto my spirit annex
So liuely Faith, that still mine eyes may fix
On thy true Isaac, whose sharp (sin-less) Suffering
Shall purge, from sin, me and my sinfull offering.

Scarce had he draw'n his sword (in resolution)
With heaued hand for instant execution,
When instantly the thundring voyce of God
Stay'd heart and hand, and thus the Fact forbod;
Abram, enough: holde, holde thy hand (sayd he)
Put-vp thy sword; thine Isaac shall not die:
Now, of thy faith I haue had perfect proof,
Thy Will, for Deed I do accept: enough.

Glad Abram, then, to God giues thanks and prayse,
Vnbindes his Son, and in his room he lays
A Lamb (there strangely hampered by the head)
And that, to God, devoutly offered.

Renowned Abraham, Thy noble Acts
Excell the Fictions of Heröik Facts:
And, that pure Law a Son of thine shall write,
Shall nothing els but thy braue deeds recite.
Extol who list, thy wisdom's excellence,
Victorious Valour, frank Beneficence,
And Iustice too (which even the Gentiles honor):
Ill dares my Muse take such a task vpon-her.
Onely thy Faith (not all, with all th' Effects)
Onely one fruit of thousand she selects,
For glorious subiect: which (to say the right)
I rather loue to wonder-at, than write.

Go Pagans, turn, turn-over every Book:
Through all Memorials of your Martyrs look,
Collect a Scroule of all the Children slain
On th' Altars of your Gods: dig-vp again
Your lying Legends: Run through every Temple;
Among your Offerings, choose the best example
(Among your Offerings which your Fathers past
Haue made, to make their names eternall last)
Among them all (fondlings) you shall not finde
Such an example, where (vnkindely-kinde)
Father and Son so mutually agree,
To showe themselues, Father nor Son to be:
Where man's deep zeal, and God's deer fauour stroue,
For Counter-conquest in officious loue.

One, by constraint his Son doth sacrifice:
Another means his Name t' immortallize
By such a Fact: Another hopes to shun
Som dismall Plague, or dire Affliction:
Another, only that he may conform
To (Tyrant) Custom's, aw-les law-les Form,
Which blears our eys, and blurs our Senses so,
That Lady Reason must her seat forgo:
Yea, blindes the iudgement of the World so far,
That Uertue's oft arraign'd at Vice's Bar.

But, vn-constrain'd, our Abram, all alone,
Vpon a Mountain, to the guise of none
(For it was odious to the Iewes to doo)
And in a time of Peace and plenty too,
Fights against Nature (prickt with wondrous zeal)
And, slaying Isaac, wars against his Weal.

O sacred Muse! that on the double Mount,
With withering Bayes bind'st not thy Singers Front;
But, on Mount Sion in the Angels Quire,
With Crowns of glory doest their brows atrire:
Tell (for thou know'st) what sacred Mystery,
Vnder this shaddow, doth in secret ly?

O Death, Sin, Satan, tremble ye not all,
For hate and horror of your dreadfull Fall,
So liuely figur'd? To beholde Gods Bowe
So ready bent to cleaue your heart in two?
To see yong Isaac, Pattern of that Prince,
Who shal Sin, Satan, Death, and Hell, convince?

Both only Sons; both sacred Potentates,
Both holy Founders of two mighty States,
Both sanctified, both Saints Progenitors;
Both bear their Cross, both Lamb-like Sufferers,
Both bound, both blame-less, both without reply,
Both by their Fathers are ordain'd to dy
Vpon Mount Sion: which high glorious Mount
Serues vs for Ladder to the Heav'ns to mount,
Restores vs Edens key (the key of Eden,
Lost through the eating of the fruit forbidden,
By wretched Adam, and his weaker Wife)
And blessed bears the holy Tree of life.

Christ dies indeed: but Isaac is repriv'd
(Because Heav'ns Councell otherwise contriv'd)
For Isaac's blood was no sufficient price
To ransom soules from Hell to Paradise:
The Leprosie of our contagious sin,
More powr-full Rivers must be purged in.