PATRICK

Unto that title Thus we all bow; it speaks you are allied To Heaven, great Sir, we come not to distract Your peace, look on your number, we bring no Signs of stern war, no invasive force to draw Fear, or suspicion, or your frowns upon us: A handful of poor naked men we are, Thrown on your Coast, whose arms are only prayer, That you would not be more unmerciful Than the rough seas, since they have let us live To find your charity. We are of Britain, Sir. My name is Patrick, who with these poor men Beseech you would permit. You are inhospitable, And have more flinty bosoms than the rocks That bind your shores, and circle your fair Island But I must not return. Till I have Performed my duty: Know great King, I have Commission for my stay, I came not hither Without command, Legate from him, before Whose angry breath the rocks do break and thaw; To whose nod the mountains humble their proud heads, The earth, the water, air and heaven is his, And all the stars that shine with evening flames, Show but their trembling when they wait on him: This supreme Kings command I have obeyed, Who sent me hither to bring you to him, And this still wandering nation, to those springs Where souls are everlastingly refreshed; Unto those gardens, whose immortal flowers Stain your imagined shades, and blessed abodes. Heaven; now a great way off But not accessible to those permit Their precious souls be strangled thus with mists, And false opinion of their gods. I must say more in my great Master's cause, And tell you in my dreams, he hath made me hear From the dark wombs of mother's, prisoned infants Confessing how their parents are misled, And calling me thus far to be their freedom Have pity on your selves, be men, and let not A blind devotion to your painted gods.— Give me thy hand: now move, and may thy heart Find softness too, this mercy is the least Of my great Master's treasures. Bow them to him That gave me power to help thee. Fear His wrath that made, and can let fallen the world. Thou art found. Set forward now in heavens name, And finish our procession. I thank thee courteous Barred, thy heart is honest. But to the King my duty. If this be hearty, heaven will not permit Your charities unrewarded. He durst not Sir, approach your royal presence. And grief for the sad fate of his two sons, Hath made him weary of society: Not far off in a wood, he means to wear out His life in prayer and penance. If you dissemble not with heaven, I can Be easily gained Sir, to believe and pray for you. If I did not, I should presume against my nature once To please the King that hath thus honoured us. My duty. I have one boon to ask your M jestie; Since you look on us with this gracious smile: That you would give my poor companions leave, To built a little chapel in this place, It shall be the first monument of your love; To use our own religion, the ground offers Plenty of stone, the cost and pain be urs. It'll bind us ever to pray for you. Sir, you mind not The humble suit I make. Great Sir. The King is troubled. Well, Madam; but I observe Distractions in the King. Madam, you show a pious heart, I find My death was meant; but it's heavens goodness I should not fallen by poison: do not lose Your charity. Pray l to me see the fellow. How soon death would devour him. That power we serve can call back life, and see, He has a little motion. 'Tis the Kings pleasure Madam, I should attend you hence. In any prison Madam, I dare visit you; Be comforted, they do but fight with heaven. I'll attend you Sir, And trust to Providence we shall be safe. The King salutes you, My Lord, this paper speaks his royal pleasure You have forgotten me, Sir; but I have been more Familiar to your knowledge: Is there nothing Within my face, that does resemble once A slave you had? It is, my Lord: I made my humble suit Toth' King, that by his favour I might visit you; And though I have not now that servile tie, It will not shame me to profess Iowe You duty still, and shall to my best power Obey your just commands. The King has honoured me. You are noble. Madam; I joy to see you, and present My humble duty: Heaven hath herd my prayers, I hope, and if you still preserve that goodness, That did so late, and sweetly shine upon you, I may not be unwelcome, since there is Something behind, which I am trusted with, To make you happier. Do, honest Barred. O Madam, if you knew The difference bet wixt my faith, and your Religion, the grounds and progress of What we profess, the sweetness, certainty, And full rewards of virtue, you would hazard, Nay, loose the glory of ten thousand world's, Like this to be a Christian, and be blessed To lay your life down (but a moment, on Which our eternity depends) and through Torture and seas of blood contend, to reach That blessed vision at last, in which Is all that can be happy, and perfection. Hear me. O Tyrant, cruel to thy self, but we Must follow our blessed Guide and holy Guardian: Led on, good Angel, fear not, virtuous Queen; A black night may beget a smiling morn, At worst to die, it's easier than be born. It's nothing to win heaven. Alas, poor Barred, the flatteries of this world Hath chained his sense: thus many self-loving nature's, Prisoned in mists and errors, cannot see The way abroad that leads to happiness, Or truth, whose beamy hand should guide us in it. What a poor valve do men set of heaven? Heaven, the perfection of all that can Be said, or thought, riches, delight, or harmony, Health, beauty, and all these not subject to The waste of time; but in their height eternal, Lost for a pension, or poor spot of earth, Favour of greatness, or and hours faint pleasure: As men, in scorn of a true flame that's near, Should run to light their taper at a glo-worne. Madam, the Prince Conallus Rise, Conall us: My benediction on thee; be but what Thy Mother is, a Christian, and a guard Of Angels shall attend thee too; the fire We walked upon secure and which is greater, Scaped the immortal flames, in which black souls, After their ill-spent lives, are bound to suffer. Dicbu's Cell Is not sar off, please you attend the Queen, We are bent thicher. Come I'll led the way. Now we approach the Hermit Dichu's Cell: Are you not weary, Madam? You were not Used to this travel; how does my new son, And sweet Emeria? You will be Spouse to and eternal Bridegroom, And lay the sweet foundation of a rule, That after ages, with devotion, Shall praise and follow. You are, Sir, reserved To bless this Kingdom with your pious government, Your Crown shall flourish, and your blood possess The Throne you shall leave glorious: This Nation Shall in a fair succession thrive, and grow Up the world's Academy, and disperse, As the rich spring of humane and divine Knowledge, clear streams to water foreign Kingdoms, Which shall be proud to owe what they possess In learning, to this great all-nursing Island. Discourse hath made the way less tedious, We have reached the Cell already, which is much Too narrow to contain us; but beneath These trees, upon their cool and pleasing shades, You may fit down; I'll call upon my Convert: Dichu, my Penitent, come forth, I pray, And entertain some guests I have brought hither, That deserve welcome. The Queen, and Prince, and Milcho's virtuous daughter Gained to our holy faith. A happy meeting: I must rejoice to see you safe, and here: But tell us by what strange means, all this while, You have been preserved? Fit down. And a preface to some message, Oh will of Heaven, be silent, and attend it: Such harmony as this did wait upon My Angel Victor, when he first appeared, And did reveal a treasure under ground, With which I bought my freedom, when I kept Unhappy Mil ho's swine; Heavens will be done. What, all asleep already? holy dreams Possess your faucie, I can wait no longer. In vain is all your malice, Art, and power Against their lives, whom the great hand of Heaven Deigns to protect; Like wolves you undertake A quarrel with the Moon, and waste your anger: Nay, all the shafts your wrath directeth hither, Are shot against a brazen arch, whose vault Impenetrable, sends the arrows back, To print just wounds on your own guilty heads. These serpents, (tame at first and innocent, Until men great revolt from grace released Their duty of creation) you have brought, And armed against my life; all these can I Approach, and without trembling, walk upon; Play with their stings, which though to me not dangerous, I could, to your destruction, turn upon Your selves, and punish with too late repentance. But you shall live, and what your malice meant, My ruin, I will turn to all your safeties, And you shall witness: Hence, you frightful monsters, Go hide, and bury your deformed heads For ever in the sea; from this time be This Island free from beasts of venomons nature's: The Shepherd shall not be afraid hereafter, To trust his eyes with-sleep upon the hills; The travellers shall have no suspicion, Or fear, to measure with his wearied limbs The silent shades; but walk through every brake, Without more guard than his own innocence. The very earth and wood shall have this blessing (Above what other Christian Nations boast) Although transported where these Serpents live And multiply, one touch shall soon destroy they. O rise, And pay to Heaven that duty. I suspect him still; But fear not, our good Angels still are near us: Death at the last can but untie our frailty; 'Twere happy for our holy faith to bleed, The Blood of Martyrs is the Churches seed.