Come braue soldjers, come and see Mighty Loue's artillery. This was the conquering dart; and loe There shines His quiuer, there His bow. These the passiue weapons are, That made great Loue, a man of warre. The quiver that He bore, did bide Soe neare, it prov'd His very side: In it there sate but one sole dart, A peircing one--His peirced heart. His weapons were nor steele, nor brasse, The weapon that He wore, He was. For bow His vnbent hand did serue, Well strung with many a broken nerue. Strange the quiver, bow and dart! A bloody side, and hand, and heart! But now the feild is wonne; and they (The dust of Warre cleane wip'd away) The weapons now of triumph be, That were before of Victorie. ON YE GUNPOWDER-TREASON.[59] I sing Impiety beyond a name: Who stiles it any thinge, knowes not the same. Dull, sluggish Ile! what more than lethargy Gripes thy cold limbes soe fast, thou canst not fly, And start from of[f] thy center? hath Heauen's loue Stuft thee soe full with blisse, thou can'st not moue? If soe, oh Neptune, may she farre be throwne By thy kind armes to a kind world vnknowne: Lett her surviue this day, once mock her fate, And shee's an island truely fortunate. Lett not my suppliant breath raise a rude storme To wrack my suite: O keepe Pitty warme In thy cold breast, and yearely on this day Mine eyes a tributary streame shall pay. Dos't thou not see an exhalation Belch'd from the sulph'ry lungs of Phlegeton? A living comet, whose pestiferous breath Adulterates the virgin aire? with death It laboures: stif'led Nature's in a swound, Ready to dropp into a chaos, round About horror's displai'd; It doth portend, That earth a shoure of stones to heauen shall send, And crack the christall globe; the milkly streame Shall in a siluer raine runne out, whose creame Shall choake the gaping earth, wch then shall fry In flames, & of a burning feuer dy. That wonders may in fashion be, not rare, A Winter's thunder with a groane shall scare, And rouze the sleepy ashes of the dead, Making them skip out of their dusty bed. Those twinckling eyes of heauen, wch eu'n now shin'd, Shall with one flash of lightning be struck blind. The sea shall change his youthfull greene, & slide Along the shore in a graue purple tide. It does præsage, that a great Prince shall climbe, And gett a starry throne before his time. To vsher in this shoale of prodigies, Thy infants, Æolus, will not suffice. Noe, noe, a giant wind, that will not spare To tosse poore men like dust into the aire; Justle downe mountaines: Kings courts shall be sent, Like bandied balles, into the firmament. Atlas shall be tript vpp, Ioue's gate shall feele The weighty rudenes of his boysterous heele.