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| LOVE, 1 thou art absolute, sole Lord | |
| Of life and death. To prove the word, | |
| We’ll now appeal to none of all | |
| Those thy old soldiers, great and tall, | |
| Ripe men of martyrdom, that could reach down | 5 |
| With strong arms their triumphant crown | |
| Such as could with lusty breath | |
| Speak loud, unto the face of death, | |
| Their great Lord’s glorious name; to none | |
| Of those whose spacious bosoms spread a throne | 10 |
| For love at large to fill. Spare blood and sweat: | |
| We’ll see Him take a private seat, | |
| And make His mansion in the mild | |
| And milky soul of a soft child. | |
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| Scarce has she learnt to lisp a name | 15 |
| Of martyr, yet she thinks it shame | |
| Life should so long play with that breath | |
| Which spent can buy so brave a death. | |
| She never undertook to know | |
| What death with love should have to do. | 20 |
| Nor has she e’er yet understood | |
| Why, to show love, she should shed blood; | |
| Yet, though she cannot tell you why, | |
| She can love, and she can die. | |
| Scarce has she blood enough to make | 25 |
| A guilty sword blush for her sake; | |
| Yet has a heart dares hope to prove | |
| How much less strong is death than love…. | |
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| Since ’tis not to be had at home, | |
| She’ll travel for a martyrdom. | 30 |
| No home for her, confesses she, | |
| But where she may a martyr be. | |
| She’ll to the Moors, and trade with them | |
| For this unvalued diadem; | |
| She offers them her dearest breath, | 35 |
| 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. | 40 |
| 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, | 45 |
| Never till now esteemèd 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. | 50 |
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| Sweet, not so fast; lo! thy fair spouse, | |
| Whom thou seek’st with so swift vows, | |
| Calls thee back, and bids thee come | |
| T’ embrace a milder martyrdom…. | |
| |
| O how oft shalt thou complain | 55 |
| 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; | 60 |
| 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! | |
| And close in his embraces keep | 65 |
| 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; | 70 |
| Like a soft lump of incense, hasted | |
| 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,— | 75 |
| 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, | 80 |
| 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, | 85 |
| Immortal welcomes wait for thee. | |
| O what delight, when she shall stand | |
| And teach thy lips heaven, with her hand, | |
| On which thou now may’st to thy wishes | |
| Heap up thy consecrated kisses! | 90 |
| What joy shall seize thy soul, when she, | |
| Bending her blessèd eyes on thee, | |
| Those second smiles of heaven, shall dart | |
| Her mild rays through thy melting heart! | |
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| Angels, thy old friends, there shall greet thee, | 95 |
| 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 | 100 |
| 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, | 105 |
| 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. | 110 |
| Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scars | |
| As keep account of the Lamb’s wars. | |
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| Those rare works, where thou shalt leave writ | |
| Love’s noble history, with wit | |
| Taught thee by none but Him, while here | 115 |
| 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; | 120 |
| 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, | 125 |
| Thy 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, | 130 |
| 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 | 135 |
| 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. | 140 |
