Urania

What wrath of gods, or wicked influenceOf starres conspiring wretched men t’afflict,Hath powrd on earth this noyous pestilence,That mortall mindes doth inwardly infectWith love of blindnesse and of ignorance,To dwell in darkenesse without sovenance?*

What difference twixt man and beast is left,When th’heavenlie light of knowledge is put out,And th’ornaments of wisdome are bereft?Then wandreth he in error and in doubt,Unweeting of the danger hee is in,Through fleshes frailtie and deceipt of sin.

In this wide world in which they wretches stray,It is the onelie comfort which they have,It is their light, their loadstarre, and their day;But hell, and darkenesse, and the grislie grave,Is Ignorance, the enemie of Grace,That mindes of men borne heavenlie doth debace.

Through knowledge we behold the worlds creation,How in his cradle first he fostred was;And iudge of Natures cunning operation,How things she formed of a formelesse mas:By knowledge wee do learne our selves to knowe,And what to man, and what to God, wee owe.

From hence wee mount aloft unto the skie,And looke into the christall firmament;There we behold the heavens great hierarchie,The starres pure light, the spheres swift movëment,The spirites and intelligences fayre,And angels waighting on th’Almighties chayre.

And there, with humble minde and high insight,Th’eternall Makers maiestie wee viewe,His love, his truth, his glorie, and his might,And mercie more than mortall men can vew.O soveraigne Lord, O soveraigne happinesse,To see thee, and thy mercie measurelesse!

Such happines have they that doo embraceThe precepts of my heavenlie discipline;But shame and sorrow and accursed caseHave they that scorne the schoole of arts divine,And banish me, which do professe the skillTo make men heavenly wise through humbled will.

However yet they mee despise and spight,I feede on sweet contentment of my thought,And please my selfe with mine owne self-delight,In contemplation of things heavenlie wrought:So, loathing earth, I looke up to the sky,And being driven hence, I thether fly.

Thence I behold the miserie of men,Which want the blis that wisedom would them breed.And like brute beasts doo lie in loathsome denOf ghostly darkenes and of gastlie dreed:For whom I mourne, and for my selfe complaine,And for my sisters eake whom they disdaine.

With that shee wept and waild so pityouslie,As if her eyes had beene two springing wells;And all the rest, her sorrow to supplie,Did throw forth shrieks and cries and dreery yells.So ended shee: and then the next in rewBegan her mournfull plaint, as doth ensew.