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(For the losse of the bodie which shee came to anoint.)
BUT 1 stay, my Muse, I feare my Maister’s loue; | |
| The only portion that my fortune left mee, | |
| Would languish in my brest, and childish proue, | |
| Sith warmth to cherish it was quite bereft mee,— | |
| His words, his presence gone, which fed my flame, | 5 |
| And not the ashes left to rake the same. | |
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| My spice and ointment shall be then prepar’d, | |
| To pay last tribute of externall duty; | |
| Though others haue thereto deuoutly car’d, | |
| And brought the best in worth, in worke, in beauty; | 10 |
| Yet such desire my duty doth inherit, | |
| That I must yield my loue my latest merit. | |
| |
| My loue each quantitie too little deem’d, | |
| Vnlesse that mine were added thereunto; | |
| Best quantitie too meane, and not esteem’d, | 15 |
| Except with mine it somewhat haue to doe; | |
| No dilligence enough for to applie, | |
| Vnlesse my seruice be unployed by. | |
| |
| Nor doe I thus sharp censure other’s deeds, | |
| But ’cause loue makes me couetous of doing: | 20 |
| Though Ioseph’s worke no reprehension needs, | |
| Though to my wish his balme he was bestowing, | |
| Yet all he did cannot my loue suffice, | |
| But I must actor be to please mine eyes. | |
| |
| Such is the force of true affection’s loue, | 25 |
| To be as eager in effects t’ appeare, | |
| As it is zealous feruently to moue | |
| Affections firme to what it holdeth deere: | |
| This loue deuout sets my poore hart on fire, | |
| To shew some deede of my most deepe desire. | 30 |
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| And to imbalme his breathlesse corps I came, | |
| As once afore I did annoynt his feete; | |
| And to preserue the rellicks of the same, | |
| The only remnaunt that my blis did meete; | |
| To weep afresh for him in depth of dole, | 35 |
| That lately wept to him for mine owne soule. | |
| |
| But loe, alas! I find the graue wide ope, | |
| The body gone, the empty sindon left; | |
| The hollow tombe I euerywhere doe grope, | |
| To be assurd of what I am sure bereft: | 40 |
| The labour of imbalming is preuented, | |
| But cause of endlesse weeping is augmented. | |
| |
| Hee wanting is vnto my obsequies, | |
| That was not wanting to my ceaselesse teares: | |
| I find a cause to moue my miseries; | 45 |
| To ease my woe no wisht-for ioy appeares. | |
| Though thus I misse whom to annoynt I meant, | |
| Yet haue I found a matter to lament: | |
| |
| I hauing setled all my sole desires | |
| On Christ my loue, who all my loue possest; | 50 |
| In whose rare goodnes my affection fires; | |
| Whom to enioy I other ioyes supprest; | |
| Whose peerelesse worth’s vnmatcht of all that liue, | |
| Being had, all ioyes, and lost, all sorrowes giue. | |
| |
| The life of liues, thus murthering in his death, | 55 |
| Doth leaue behind him, lasting to endure, | |
| A generall death to each thing hauing breath, | |
| And his decease our nature hath made pure: | |
| Yet am poore I of ornament bereft, | |
| And all the world without perfection left. | 60 |
| |
| What maruell then if my hart’s hot desire | |
| And vehement loue to such a louely Lord | |
| To see life’s wrack with scalding sighes aspire, | |
| And for his bodie’s losse such woe afford; | |
| And feele like tast of sorrowe in his misse, | 65 |
| As in his presence I enioyed blisse? | |
| |
| And though my teares distill’d from moisted eyes | |
| Are rather oyle then water to my flame; | |
| More apt to nourish sorrowe in such wise, | |
| Then to diminish or abate the same; | 70 |
| Yet, silly soule, I, plung’d in depth of paine, | |
| Doe yield myselfe a captiue to complaine. | |
| |
| Most true it is that Peter came and Iohn | |
| With me vnto the tombe, to try report; | |
| They came in hast, and hastily were gone; | 75 |
| They, hauing searcht, dare make no more resort: | |
| And what gain’d I? two witnesse of my losse, | |
| Dismaiers of my hope, cause of more crosse. | |
| |
| Loue made them come, but loue was quickly quail’d | |
| With such a feare as call’d them soone away: | 80 |
| I, poore I, hoping, in dispaire assail’d | |
| Without all feare, perseuering still to stay; | |
| Because I thought no cause of feare was left, | |
| Sith whom I fear’d was from my sight bereft. | |
| |
| For I, poore soule, haue lost my Maister deere, | 85 |
| To whom my thoughts deuoutly were combin’d; | |
| The totall of my loue, my cheefest cheere, | |
| The height of hope, in whom my glory shin’d; | |
| My finall feare; and therefore, him excepted, | |
| No other hope, nor loue, nor losse, respected. | 90 |
| |
| Worse feare behind was death, which I desired, | |
| And feared not, my soule’s life being gone; | |
| Without which I no other life required, | |
| And in which death had beene delight alone: | |
| And thus, ah! thus, I liue a dying life; | 95 |
| Yet neither death nor life can end my strife. | |
| |
| Yet now, methinks, ’tis better die then liue, | |
| For haply dying I my loue may finde; | |
| Whom, while I liue, no hope at all can giue, | |
| And, he not had, to liue I haue no minde: | 100 |
| For nothing in myselfe but Christ I lou’d, | |
| And nothing ioyes, my Iesus so remou’d. | |
| |
| If any thing aliue to keepe me striu’d, | |
| It is his image, ’cause it should not die | |
| With me, whose likenes loue in me contriu’d, | 105 |
| And treasur’d vp in sweetest memory; | |
| From which my loue by no way can depart, | |
| Vnlesse I rippe the center of my hart: | |
| |
| Which had beene done, but that I fear’d to burst | |
| The worthles trunck which my deere Lord inclosed; | 110 |
| In which the relliques of lost ioy was trust, | |
| And all the remnant of my life imposed: | |
| Els griefe had chang’d my hart to bleeding teares, | |
| And fatall end had past from pitteous eares. | |
| |
| Yet pitteous I, in so imperfect sort, | 115 |
| Doe seeme to drawe my vndesired breath, | |
| That true I proue this often-heard report,— | |
| “Loue is more strong then life-destroying death:” | |
| For what more could pale Death in me haue done, | |
| Then in my loue performed playne is showne? | 120 |
| |
| My wits distraught, and all my sence amaz’d; | |
| My thoughts let lose and fled, I know not where; | |
| Of vnderstanding rob’d, I stand agaz’d, | |
| Not able to conceit what I doe heare: | |
| That in the end, finding I did not know, | 125 |
| And seeing, could not well discerne the show. | |
| |
| I am not where I am, but with my loue; | |
| And where he is, poore soule, I cannot tell: | |
| Yet from his sight nothing my hart can moue; | |
| I more in him than in my life doe dwell: | 130 |
| And, missing whom I looke for with sad seeking, | |
| Poore wo-worne woman, at the tombe stay weeping. | |
