Classic Poem

When that my soul by magique would aspire,
Prometheus like fetch down Celestial fire;
Paul like to Paradise rap'd by th' part divine,
Sure lust doth me unto this tree recline;
While I descend, and th' pleasures tast of sense,
The tree of life my Jesu's banish'd hence.
He must relinquish flesh and blood who'le be
Made a partaker of divinitie.
Man is a Garden, Jesus is within
The tree of life, which we do lose by sin.
Virtue makes Heav'n, while Hell is made by vice,
Who lives like Enoch , walks in Paradice .
But he who follows th' crooked waies of sin,
A Serpent to this Garden doth let in;
To tast the fruits of sense doth him intice,
Then sees his sin, and himself nak'd by vice.
While God his Saints with sanctity doth cloath
The figleaves of Hypocrisy they loath.
Fall'n midst the trees they seek to hide their sin;
But God ith conscience is who speaks within;
Our better thoughts of Paradice are the trees
Which they secluded are, whom sins can please:
Earth turn'd to earth, which if none do manure
It doth sins fruits, thistles and thorns endure.
But see on water th' spirit moves of love,
To make the first light did on waters move,
From th' fount of Baptism, there do rivers flow
Which water Paradice , and make Heav'ns fruit grow.
The seed of life thus watered did die,
To raise up fruit for all eternity.
The tree of life was joyned to deaths tree
To make the barren bare it God must be,
Into the ground thou Lord art cast, that we
Fix'd to thy root, may ever living be.
Thou Lord the Earth didst ope, that death might have
And's sister sin in lifes Sepulcher grave.
Who to the world is ty'd, to the Crosse is nail'd,
His bones are broke, and he by death assail'd;
But he's a good thief violence offers there,
The flaming sword keeps Paradise sure is prayer;
Or thy sprites Cherubins and the flaming sword,
Which keeps the tree of life is Lord thy word.
Since thou of life in Paradise art the tree,
Lord when thy Kingdom comes, remember me;
The bone thou gav'st us is with th' Serpent joyn'd,
Sin breaks the bones, which first with sin combin'd.
The Serpents damn'd to dust which us betraid,
Lift like a Serpent up in dust thou'rt lay'd.
Sin Lord's a Serpent with a fiery sting,
Thou lifted up dost to us med'cine bring:
Thorns on thy brow Earths curse for him dost wear,
Thou mak'st them Lord a Crown by being there.
Thief-like to th' cursed tree i'me nail'd by sin;
Yet sin makes wounds to let thy mercy in.
Lord say the word, I shall be whole, or say,
Thou shalt with me in Paradise be this day.