The Pensive Prisoners Apology.
Directed to his fellow-Prisoners wheresoever,
wherein he adviseth them to be stedfast in faith and
hope, and patiently to indure their careful Imprison-
ment, and to keep their Vows, shewing the way to
true Liberty.
To the Tune of, Love with unconfined Wings.
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LOve with unconfined wings
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hovers about my gates,
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And my divine Althema begins
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to whisper at my grates,
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When I lie tangled in her hair
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being fettered in her eie,
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The birds that wanton in the Air
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knows no such liberty.
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When like contented Linits i
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with silver notes will sing:
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The very meekness of the heart,
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and glory of the thing,
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When I shall noise abroad and spread
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how good their vertues be,
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Fishes that tipple in the deep.
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knows no such liberty.
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My lodging is on the cold boards,
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my cloaths are thin and bare:
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False hearted friends with flattering words
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doth seek me to insnare,
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They counsel me to change my mind,
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and so my words deny:
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And I thereby shall surely find,
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a perfect liberty.
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Faith, hope and patience is my guide,
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my conscience pure and clear:
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So that the Lord be on my side,
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what foe need I to fear.
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I neither fear the stroak of death,
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nor tyrants villany,
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So soon as Christ receives my breath
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I gain true liberty.
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A faithful vow I once did make,
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which now I will maintain:
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Whilst I have tongue and breath to speak
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and life in me remain.
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Rather than from Religion turn
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in fiery flames to fry;
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And if my corps to ashes burn,
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my soul gains liberty,
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Patience makes plaisters for my sores
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love lives without controle
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They lock my body within the doors
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but cannot lock my soul.
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My muses to and fro doth run.
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above and beneath the Sky:
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The greatest Potentates under the Sun
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oft wants such liberty,
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Our keepers cruelty is great,
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to one and to us all,
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He bids us eat our flesh for meat,
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or stones thats in the wall.
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Yet though I am in prison cast,
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my senses mount on high,
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The wind that bloweth where it list
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knows no such liberty.
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Tis neither pardon from the Pope
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nor prayers made to Saints,
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That can inlarge my further scope,
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nor shorten my complaints,
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Tis Christ above, the Lord of love
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which for mankind did die:
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None but he can pardon me,
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nor work my liberty.
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Thers many men hath treasure store
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yet are so worldly bent,
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Having too much they scrape for more
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yet never are content
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Whilst I that am the poorst of all
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from worldly care am free;
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Which makes me think they live in thral
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and I have liberty.
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The man that bears a wavering mind
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is subject to much wo,
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He that to anger is inclind,
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must sorrow undergo,
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But he that hath a patient heart,
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though he a prisoner be,
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Exceeds both nature, skill, and art,
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In point of liberty.
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You pensive prisoners every one,
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with hearts loyal and true,
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These lines of mine to work upon,
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I dedicate to you.
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Let faith and patience be your guide
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and you in time shall see,
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The powers of heaven will so provide
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you shall have liberty.
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Stone walls cannot a prison make,
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nor iron bars a cage.
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A spotless soul being innocent,
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calls that its hermitage.
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So I am blameless in my choice,
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and from these troubles free,
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Angels alone that are above,
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injoys such liberty.
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