Classic Poem

The Serpent, Sinne, by shewing humane lust
Visions and dreames inticed man to doe
Follies, in which exceed his God he must,
And know more than hee was created to,
A charme which made the ugly sinne seeme good,
And is by falne Spirits onely vnderstood.

Now man no sooner from his meane creation,
Trode this excesse of vncreated sinne,
But straight he chang'd his being to priuation,
Horrour and death at this gate passing in;
Whereby immortall life, made for mans good,
Is since become the hell of flesh and blood.

But grant that there were no eternity,
That life were all, and Pleasure life of it,
In sinnes excesse there yet confusions be,
Which spoyle his peace, and passionate his wit,
Making his Nature lesse, his Reason thrall,
To tyranny of vice vnnaturall.

And as Hell fires, not wanting heat, want light;
So these strange witchcrafts, which like Pleasure be,
Not wanting faire inticements, want delight,
Inward being nothing but deformity;
And doe at open doores let fraile powers in
To that straight building, Little-ease of sinne.

Yet is there ought more wonderfull than this?
That Man , euen in the state of his perfection,
All things vncurst, nothing yet done amisse,
And so in him no base of his defection;
Should fall from God, and breake his Makers will,
Which could haue no end, but to know the Ill .

I aske the rather since in Paradise,
Eternity was obiect to his passion,
And hee in goodnesse like his Maker wise,
As from his spirit taking life and fashion;
What greater power there was to master this,
Or how a lesse could worke, my question is?

For who made all, 'tis sure yet could not make,
Any aboue himselfe, as Princes can,
So as, against his will no power could take,
A Creature from him; nor corrupt a man;
And yet who thinks he marr'd, that made ys good,
As well may think God lesse than flesh and blood.

Where did our being then seeke out priuation?
Aboue, within, without us all was pure,
Onely the Angels from their discreation,
By smart declar'd no being was secure,
But that transcendent Goodnesse which subsists,
By forming and reforming what it lists.

So as within the Man there was no more,
But possibility to worke upon,
And in these spirits, which were falne before,
An abstract curst eternity alone;
Refined by their high places in creation,
To adde more craft and malice to temptation.

Now with what force upon these middle spheares,
Of Probable, and Possibility,
Which no one constant demonstration beares,
And so can neither binde, nor bounded be;
What those could work, that hauing lost their God,
Aspire to be our Tempters and our Rod,

Too well is witness'd by this fall of ours,
For wee not knowing yet that there was ill,
Gaue easie credit to deceiuing powers,
Who wrought upon us onely by our will;
Perswading, like it, all was to it free,
Since where no sinne was, there no law could be.

And as all finite things seeke infinite,
From thence deriuing what beyond them is;
So man was led by charmes of this darke sp'rit,
Which hee could not know till hee did amisse;
To trust those Serpents, who learn'd since they fell,
Knew more than we did, euen their own made hell.

Which crafty oddes made us those clouds imbrace,
Where sinne in ambush lay to overthrow
Nature, (that would presume to fadome Grace)
Or could beleeue what God said was not so:
Sin, then we knew thee not, and could not hate,
And now we know thee, now it is too late.