Upon Wedlock, and the Death of Children
A Curious Knot God made in Paradise,
And drew it out still neatly Fresh.
It was the True-Love Knot, more sweet than spice
And set with all the flowers of Graces dress.
Its Weddens Knot, that ne’re can be unti’de.
No Alexanders Sword can it divide.
The slips here planted, gay and glorious grow:
Unless an Hellish breath do sindge their Plumes.
Here Primrose, Cowslips, Roses, Lilies blow
With Violets and Pinkes that void perfumes.
Whose beautiful leaves ore laid with Hony Dew.
And Chanting birds Cherp out sweet Musick true.
When in this Knot I planted was, my Stock
Soon knotted, and a manly flower out brake.
And after it my branch again did knot
Brought out another Flowre its sweet breath’d mate.
One knot gave one tother the tothers place.
Whence Checking smiles fought in each others face.
But oh! a glorious hand from glory came
Saved with Angells, soon did Crop this flowere
Which almost tore the root up of the same
At that unexpected for, Dolesome, darksome houre.
In Pray’re to Christ perfum’d it did ascend,
And Angells bright did it to heaven tend.
But pausing on’t, this sweet perfume’d my thought,
Christ would in Glory have a Flowre, Choice, Prime,
And having Choice, chose this my branch forth brought.
Lord, take’t. I thank thee, thou takst ought to mine,
It is my pledge in glory, part of me
Is now in it, Lord, glorify with thee.
But praying pray my branch, my branch did sprout
And bore another manly flower, and gay
And after that another, sweet brake out,
The which the former hand soon got away.
But oh! the tortures, vomit, screechings, groans,
And six weeks fever would pierce hearts like stones.
Griefe o’re doth flow: and nature fault would find
Were not thy Will, my Spell, Charm, Joy, and Gem:
That as I said, I say, take, Lord, they’re thine.
I piece meal pass to Glory bright in them.
In joy, may I sweet Flowers for Glory breed,
Whether thou getst them green, or lets them seed.