LOVE UNKNOWN.
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ear friend, sit down, the tale is long and sadAnd in my faintings, I presume, your loveWill more comply than help. A Lord I had,And have, of whom some grounds, which may improve,I hold for two lives, and both lives in me.To him I brought a dish of fruit one day,And in the middle placed my heart. But he(I sigh to say)Look’d on a servant, who did know his eye,Better than you know me, or (which is one)Than I myself. The servant instantly,Quitting the fruit, seiz’d on my heart alone,And threw it in a font, wherein did fallA stream of blood, which issued from the sideOf a great rock: I well remember all,And have good cause: there it was dipt and dyed,And wash’d, and wrung: the very wringing yetEnforceth tears. “Your heart was foul, I fear.”Indeed ’tis true. I did and do commitMany a fault, more than my lease will bear;Yet still ask’d pardon, and was not denied.But you shall hear. After my heart was well,And clean and fair, as I one eventide(I sigh to tell)Walk’d by myself abroad, I saw a largeAnd spacious furnace flaming, and thereonA boiling caldron, round about whose vergeWas in great letters set AFFLICTION.The greatness shew’d the owner. So I wentTo fetch a sacrifice out of my fold,Thinking with that, which I did thus present,To warm his love, which, I did fear, grew cold.But as my heart did tender it, the manWho was to take it from me, slipt his hand,And threw my heart into the scalding pan;My heart that brought it (do you understand?)The offerer’s heart. “Your heart was hard, I fear.”Indeed ’tis true. I found a callous matterBegan to spread and to expatiate there:But with a richer drug than scalding waterI bath’d it often, ev’n with holy blood,Which at a board, while many drank bare wine,A friend did steal into my cup for good,Ev’n taken inwardly, and most divineTo supple hardnesses. But at the lengthOut of the caldron getting, soon I fledUnto my house, where to repair the strengthWhich I had lost, I hasted to my bed:But when I thought to sleep out all these faults,(I sigh to speak)I found that some had stuff’d the bed with thoughts,I would say thorns. Dear, could my heart not break,When with my pleasures ev’n my rest was gone?Full well I understood who had been there:For I had given the key to none but one:It must be he. “Your heart was dull, I fear.”Indeed a slack and sleepy state of mindDid oft possess me; so that when I pray’d,Though my lips went, my heart did stay behind.But all my scores were by another paid,Who took my guilt upon him. “Truly, Friend,“For aught I hear, your Master shews to you“More favour than you wot of. Mark the end.“The font did only what was old renew“The caldron suppled what was grown too hard:“The thorns did quicken what was grown too dull:“All did but strive to mend what you had marr’d.“Wherefore be cheer’d, and praise him to the full“Each day, each hour, each moment of the week“Who fain would have you be new, tender quick.”
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