Saint Bernards Vision.
OR,
A briefe Discourse (Dialogue-wise) betweene the Soule and the Body of a dam-
ned man newly deceased, laying open the faults of each other: With a speech
of the Divels in Hell. To the Tune of, Fortune my Foe.
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The Writer speaketh.
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AS I lay slumbring in my Bed one Night,
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A fearefull Vision did me sore affright:
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Me thought I saw a Soule departed late,
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By it the Body, in a poore estate.
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Wailing with sighes, the Soule aloud did cry
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Upon the Body, in the Coffin by:
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And thus the Soule to it did make her moane,
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With grievous sobs, and many a bitter groane.
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The Soule speaketh.
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O sinfull Flesh, which now so low doth lye,
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Whom yesterday the World esteemd so hye;
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It was but yesterday the World was thine,
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Thy Sunne is set, which yesterday did shine.
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Where is that Traine that did attend on thee?
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Where is thy Mirth? where is thy Jollitie?Where are thy sumptuous Buildings, and thy Treasure?Thy pleasant Walks, in which thou tookst such pleasure?
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Gone is thy Traine, thy Mirth to mourning turnd,
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Thou in a Coffin in thy Shrine art Urnd:For thy rich Clothes, thou hast a Winding-sheet,
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Thy high-built Roofe now with thy Nose doth meet.
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But I (poore Soule) was framd a noble creature,
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In likenesse to my God, of heavenly feature:But by thy sinne, whilst we on Earth aboade,
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I am made fouler than a loathsome Toade.
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O wretched Flesh, with me that art forlorne,That well mayst wish thou never hadst bin borne;
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Thou never wouldst to any good agree,
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For which we evermore shall damned bee.
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I am and must forever be in paine,
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No tongue can tell the torments I sustaine;
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Both thou and I, we must descend to Hell,
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[W]here we in frying flames for aye must dwell.
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It was thy Pride, Deceit, and Luxurie,
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Hath brought these torments both on me and thee;
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Thy Wife, thy Children, Friends, which thou didst trust,
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Doth loath thy Carcas, lying in the Dust.
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The Booke of God, which is both true and sure,
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Witnesse at large what sinners shall endure:Thou that within thy Bed of Earth art layd,
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Arise, and answer to these things I sayd.
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The Body answereth.
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I know thee well, my Soule, which from me fled,
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Which left my Body senselesse, cold, and dead:Cease then to say, the fault was all in mee,
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When I will prove the fault was most in thee.
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Thou sayst, that I have led thee oft astray,
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And from well-doing drawne thee quite away,
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But if the Flesh the Spirits power can move,
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The fault is thine, as I will plainly prove.
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God you doe know, created thee most faire,
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And of Celestiall knowledge gave you share:I was your servant, formd of Durt and Clay;
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You to command, and I for to obay.
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Twas in your power for to restraine my will,
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And not to let me doe those things were ill.
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The Bodies workes be from the Soule derided,
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And by the Soule the Body should be guided.
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The Body of it selfe none ill hath knowne:If I did what thou bidst, the guilts thine owne:For without thee, the Body resteth dead;
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The Soule commands it rests upon thy head.
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So to conclude, thy guilt exceedeth mine;
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Oh, how the wormes doe teare me in my Shrine!
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And therefore fare thou well, poore sinfull Soule,
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Whose trespasses passe mine, though they are foule.
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The second part. To the same tune.
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The Soule answereth.
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MOst wretched Flesh, which in thy time of life
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Wast foolish, idle, vaine, and full of strife;
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Though of my substance thou didst speake to me,
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I doe confesse I should have bridled thee.
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But thou through love of pleasure foule and ill,
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Still me resisted and would have thy will:When I would thee (O Body) have controld,
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Straight the worlds vanities did thee with-hold.
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So thou of me didst get the upper hand,
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Inthralling mee in worldly pleasures band,
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That thou and I eternall shall be drownd
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In Hell, when glorious Saints in Heaven are crownd.
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But flattring fancies did thy mind so please,
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Thou never thought to dye, till death did seaze:
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This was thy fault, and cursed is our fate,
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Which we repent, but now alas too late.
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The Body speaketh.
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Oh now I weep being scourgd with mine owne rod,
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Wee both stand guilty fore the face of God:Both are in fault, and yet not equally,
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The greatest burthen (Soule) on thee doth lye.
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No wit so meane, but this for truth it knowes,
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That where most gifts of vertue God bestowes.
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There most is due, and ought repayed bee;
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And unto this theres none but will agree.
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But foolishly thou yeeldedst unto mee,
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And to my vaine desires didst soone agree;
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But (oh) I know that at the latter houre,
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Both thou and I shall find a death most soure.
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I greatly feare an everlasting fire,
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Yet one thing more of thee I doe desire:Hast thou been yet amongst the fiends of Hell?Is no hope left, that we with Christ may dwell?
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The Soule answereth.
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Fond flesh, remember Dives was denayd,
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When for one drop of water so he prayd:Thy question (senselesse Body) wanteth reason,
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Redemption now is hopelesse, out of season.
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Vile Body goe, and rot in bed of Clay,
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Untill the great and generall Judgement day:Then shalt thou rise and be with me condemnd,
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To Hells hot lake, for ever without end.
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So fare thou well, I must no longer stay,
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Harke how the fiends of Hell call mee away:The losse of Heavenly joyes tormenteth mee
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More than all tortures that in Hell can be.
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The Divells speake.
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Ho, are you come, whom we expected long?
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Now we will make you sing another song:Howling and yelling still shall be your note,
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And molten lead be powred downe your throat.
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Such horror wee doe on our servants load,
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Now thou art worse than is the crawling Toad:Ten thousand thousand torments thou shalt bide,
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When thou in flaming Sulphure shalt be fride.
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Thou art a souldier of our campe enrold,
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Never henceforth shalt thou the light behold:
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The paines prepard for thee no tongue can tell,
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Welcome, O welcome to the pit of Hell.
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The Writer speaketh.
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At this the groaning Soule did weepe most sore,
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And then the fiends with joy did laugh and roare:These Divells seemd more blacke than pitch or night,
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Whose horrid shapes did sorely me affright.
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Sharpe steely forkes each in his hand did beare,
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Tusked their teeth, like crooked mattocks were,
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Fire and Brimstone then they breathed out,
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And from their nostrils Snakes crawld round about.
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Foule filthy hornes on their blacke browes they wore,
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Their nayles were like the tushes of a Bore:Those fiends in chaines fast bound this wretched Soule,
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And dragd him in, who grievously did howle.
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Then straight me thought appeared to my sight
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A beautious young man, cloathed all in white,
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His face did shine, most glorious to behold,
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Wings like the Raynebow, and his hayre like Gold.
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With a sweet voyce, All haile, all haile (quoth he)
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Arise and write what thou didst heare and see:Most heavenly musicke seemed then to play,
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And in a cloud he vanisht quite away.
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Awaking straight, I tooke my pen in hand,
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To write these lines the yong man did command,
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And so into the world abroad it sent,
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That each good Christian may in time repent.
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Then let us feare the Lord both night and day,
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Preserve our Soules and Bodies wee thee pray,
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Grant that we may so run this mortall race,
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That wee in Heaven may have a resting place.
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Preserve the King, the Queene and Progeny,
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The Clergy, Councell, and Nobility,
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Preserve our soules, O Lord, we doe thee pray,
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Amen, with me let all good Christians say.
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