369 [from Vox Pacifica]
The Sun hath run his course through all the Signes,
And, thirteen times the Moone renew’d her light,
Since last I limb’d my thoughts in measur’d lines,
Or, felt my heart for Numbers tun’d aright;
5 For, ever since my Musings in the Field,
The close whereof, a Voice of PEACE fore-tells,
With such disord’red thoughts I have been fild
As use to thrive where sad distemper dwells:
And, we have, All, so broken that Condition,
10 On which our wished Comforts founded are,
That, of accomplishing our hopes fruition,
Not many certaine symptomes, yet, appear;
Though, therefore, I have silent been till now,
My slownesse blame not, neither murmure you.
15 The Muses are not still at my command,
Whereby those Informations are acquir’d,
Which many have expected at my hand;
(And somwhat out of season too, desir’d.)
The VOICE, there mentioned, was but a Sound,
20 Not then, articulated into words;
The perfect Forme thereof I had not found,
Nor what interpretation it affords.
If I had spoken, e’re I had mine Arrant,
Beyond my wit, my forward tongue had went;
25 If I had run, before I had my Warrant,
Well might I, for my labour, have been shent.
There is, for all things an appointed houre;
And, Times, and Seasons, are not in my power.
My Vessell stirreth not, till that Wind blowes
30 Which never blowes but when, and where it list:
Drie is my Cisterne, till that Fountain flowes,
Whose flowings-forth, I cannot then resist.
Somtimes, in me, so low the Waters lie,
That every Childe and Beast is trampling on me;
35 Somtime againe, they rise, they swell so high,
That Princes cannot make a Bridge upon me.
Had King, and Parliament, the other day,
Commanded from me that which now I write,
To save my life, I knew not what to say
40 Of that, which was inspired yesternight:
And, being, now, as full as I can hold,
Though none they please, my Musings must be told.
Mistake not tho, as if it should be thought,
That by Enthusiasme, now, I write;
45 Or, that the matter which to me is brought,
By GODS immediate dictates, I indite.
Far is that Arrogancie from my Pen:
The Objects of my Contemplation, be
The same which GOD affords to other men,
50 Who use aright, the Guifts bestow’d on me.
The Muses challenge a peculiar phrase
And freedomes, not so well becoming those,
Who are confined to observe the lawes
Of common speech, and tell their minds in prose:
55 For, whereas these have but one worke to do,
I have, in my Intentions, often two.
To reason out a Truth, is their perfection;
That, so, mens judgements rectifie they might:
Thereat, I aime: But, how to move Affection,
60 And set the motions of the Will aright,
Is my chiefe work: And; to that end, I catch
At all advantages of Place and Time,
Of Actions, or Expressions; and, I watch
For ev’ry meanes of well improving them.
65 By which endeavours (and, for ought I know,
By some aid, more then ordinary too)
Mixt with mine own Conjectures, I fore-show
Some things, which GOD requires, or means to do.
And, when I apprehend such things as these,
70 They neither are conceall’d, nor told with ease.
As when a portion of new spritly-wine,
Is in a close, and crazie Vessell pent,
Which neither can sufficiently confine
The working Liquour, nor well give it vent;
75 Ev’n so I far’d: For, (though I felt my breast
With matter fully stor’d) seaven daies I strove
My swelling Thoughts, in Words, to have exprest,
Yet neither could desist, nor forward move.
But, on that night in which our Monethly-Fast
80 Had swallow’d up our greatest Festivall,
My Muse broke loose: And, now the stop is past,
Will run her Course, what ever may befall;
And (since to speak her mind she hath begun)
Resolves, She will be heard, e’re She hath done.
85 Once more therefore, yee BRITAINS lend an eare;
KING, PRIEST, AND PEOPLE mark what now I say,
And, if you shall be pleas’d this VOICE to heare,
Take heed, you harde nnot your hearts to day.
For, if your pride, and follie, shall despise
90 The gentle VOICE, that now salutes your eare,
Ere long, there shall another VOICE arise,
Which will not such a peacefull note preferre.
It shall not move with so becalm’d a Breath,
Nor be dilated through so milde an ayre,
95 But, from the wombe of Hell, and Jawes of Death,
Be thund’red forth, with horrours and despaire:
And, few shall hear that VOICES dreadfull sound,
Without a smarting, and a curelesse wound.
Though you my former Warnings did abuse,
100 It brookes excuse: Because, I so fore-told
Ensuing things, as yet, no Moderne-Muse
Hath done the like; and few in times of old:
But, now, by seeing those Predictions true,
You, as it were, an Earnest have receiv’d,
105 And an assurance, tendred unto you,
That, what is here declar’d, may be believ’d.
By vertue, therefore, of that Seal, and Signe,
I challenge that beleefe, and that respect,
Which appertaineth to this VOICE of mine,
110 Till, thence, I seeke to draw some ill effect;
By making that, which hath fulfilled bin,
An Argument to warrantize a sin.