She offers them her dearest breath,
With Christ's name in't, in change for death:
She'll bargain with them, and will give
Them God, and teach them how to live
In Him; or, if they this deny,
For Him she'll teach them how to die.
So shall she leave amongst them sown,
Her Lord's blood, or at least her own.
Farewell then, all the world, adieu!
Teresa is no more for you.
Farewell all pleasures, sports, and joys,
Never till now esteemed toys!
Farewell whatever dear may be,
Mother's arms, or father's knee!
Farewell house, and farewell home!
She's for the Moors and martyrdom.
Sweet, not so fast; lo! thy fair spouse,
Whom thou seek'st with so swift vows,
Calls the back, and bids thee come
T'embrace a milder martyrdom.
Blest pow'rs forbid, thy tender life
Should bleed upon a barbarous knife,
Or some base hand have power to rase
Thy breast's chaste cabinet, and uncase
A soul kept there so sweet. O, no,
Wise heaven will never have it so:
Thou art love's victim, and must die
A death more mystical and high!
Into love's arms thou shalt let fall
A still surviving funeral.
His is the dart must make the death,
Whose stroke will taste thy hallow'd breath;
A dart thrice dipp'd in that rich flame quid flame
Which writes thy spouse's radiant name Spouse - God
Upon the roof of heaven, where aye
It shines, and, with a sovereign ray,
Beats bright upon the burning faces
Of souls, which in that name's sweet graces
Find everlasting smiles. So rare,
So spiritual, pure and fair,
Must be the immortal instrument
Upon whose choice point shall be spent
A life so loved and that there be
Fit executioners for thee,
The fairest first-born sons of fire,
Blest seraphim, shall leave their quire,
And turn love's soldiers, upon
To exercise their archery.
O, how oft shalt thou complain
Of a sweet and subtle pain!
Of intolerable joys!
Of a death, in which who dies
Loves his death, and dies again,
And would for ever so be slain;
And lives and dies, and knows not why
To live, but that he still may die!
How kindly will thy gentle heart
Kiss the sweetly-killing dart Love's dart which
And close in his embraces keep
Those delicious wounds that weep
Balsam, to heal themselves with thus,
When these thy deaths, so numerous,
Shall all at once die into one,
And melt thy soul's sweet mansion;
Like a soft lump of incense, hastedet
By too hot a fire, and wasted
Into perfuming clouds, so fast
Shalt thou exhale to heaven at last
In a resolving sigh, and then,-
O, what? Ask not the tongues of men.
Angels cannot tell; suffice,
Thyself shalt feel thine own full joys,
And hold them fast for ever there.
So soon as thou shalt first appear,
The moon of maiden stars, thy white
Mistress, attended by such bright
Souls as thy shining self, shall come,
And in her first ranks make thee room
Where, 'mongst her snowy family,
Immortal welcomes wait for thee.
O, what delight, when she shall stand
And teach thy lips heaven, with her hand,
On which thou now mayst to thy wishes
Heap up thy consecrated kisses.
What joy shall seize thy soul, when she,
Love's Dart Killed the moon's (i.e.4) now grzes 8. We
Bending her blessed eyes on thee,
Those second smiles of heaven, shall dart
Her mild rays through thy melting heart!
Angels, thy old friends, there shall greet thee,
Glad at their own home now to meet thee.
All thy good works which went before,
And waited for thee at the door,
Shall own thee there: and all in one
Weave a constellation
Of crowns, with which the king, thy spouse,
Shall build up thy triumphant brows.
All thy old woes shall now smile on thee,
And thy pains sit bright upon thee:
All thy sorrows here shall shine,
And thy sufferings be divine.
Tears shall take comfort, and turn gems,
And wrongs repent to diadems.
Even thy deaths shall live and new
Dress the soul which late they slew.
Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scars
As keep account of the Lamb's wars.
Those rare works, where thou shalt leave writ
Love's noble history, with wit
Taught thee by none but Him, while here
They feed our souls, shall clothe thine there.
Each heavenly word by whose hid flame
Our hard hearts shall strike fire, the same
Shall flourish on thy brows; and be
Both fire to us and flame to thee:
Whose light shall live bright in thy face
By glory, in our hearts by grace.
Thou shalt look round about, and see
Thousands of crown'd souls throng to be
Themselves thy crown, sons of thy vows,
The virgin-births with which thy spouse
Made fruitful thy fair soul; go now,
And with them all about thee bow
To Him;"put on, He'll say, "put on
My rosy love, that thy rich zone,
Sparkling with the sacred flames
Of thousand souls, whose happy names
Heaven keeps upon thy score: thy bright
Life brought them first to kiss the light
That kindled them to stars; and so
Thou with the Lamb, thy Lord, shalt go.
And, wheresoe'er He sets His white
Steps, walk with Him those ways of light,
Which who in death would live to see,
Must learn in life to die like thee.
AN APOLOGY FOR THE PRECEDENT
HYMN,
As having been written when the Author was yet a
Protestant.
HUS have I back again to thy bright name,
Fair flood of holy fires! transfused the flame
I took from reading thee. 'Tis to thy wrong,
I know, that in my weak and worthless song
Thou here art set to shine, where thy full day
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