Saint BERNARDs VISION:
Or, A brief Discourse, Dialogue-wise, between the Soul and Body of a Damned Man, newly, de-
ceased, laying the Faults one upon the other. To which is added, A Speech of the Devils in hell, etc. To the Tune of, Flying Fame, etc. Licensed according to order.
|
The Writer speaketh.
|
AS I lay slumbring in my bed one night,
|
A fearful vision did me sore affright,
|
Methought I saw a soul departed late,
|
By it the body in a poor estate.
|
Wailing with sighs, the soul aloud did cry,
|
Upon the body in the coffin by:
|
And thus the soul to it did make her moan,
|
With grievous sobs, and many a bitter groan.
|
The Soul speaketh.
|
O sinful flesh, which now so low doth lie,
|
Whom yesterday the world esteemd so high,
|
It was but yesterday the world was thine,
|
The sun is set which yesterday did shine.
|
Where is thy train that did attend on thee?
|
Where is thy mirth, where is thy jollity?
|
Where are thy sumptuous buildings & thy treasure?
|
Thy pleasant walks wherein thou tookest pleasure.
|
Gone is thy train, thy mirth to mourning turnd,
|
Thou in a coffin, in a shrine art urnd:
|
For thy rich cloaths thou hast a winding-sheet,
|
Thy high-built roof now with thy mouth doth meet.
|
But I poor soul was framd a noble creature,
|
In likeness to my God, of heavenly feature,
|
But by thy sin while we on earth abode,
|
I am made fouler then a loathsom toad.
|
O wretched flesh with me that art forlorn,
|
That well may wish thou never hadst been born:
|
Thou wouldest never to any one agree,
|
For which we evermore shall damned be.
|
I am and must for ever be in pain,
|
No tongue can tell the torments I sustain,
|
But thou and I we must descend to hell,
|
Where we in frying flames must ever dwell.
|
It was thy pride, deceit, and luxury,
|
Hath brought these torments both on me and thee,
|
Thy wife, thy children, friends whom thou didst trust
|
Do loath thy carcass lying in the dust.
|
The book of God, which is both true and sure,
|
Witness at large what sinners shall endure;
|
Thou that within the bed of earth art laid,
|
Arise, and answer to the words I said.
|
The Body speaketh.
|
I know thee well, my soul, which from me fled,
|
Which left my body senceless, cold, and dead,
|
Cease thou to say the fault was all in me,
|
When I will prove the fault was most in thee:
|
Thou sayst that I have led thee oft astray,
|
And from well-doing drawn thee quite away:
|
But if the flesh the spirits power can move,
|
The fault is thine as I will plainly prove.
|
God you do know created you most fair,
|
And of celestial knowledge gave you share:
|
I was your servant, framd of earth and clay,
|
You to command, and I for to obey.
|
Twas in your power for to restrain my will,
|
And not to let me do these things were ill:
|
The bodys works are from the soul devided,
|
And by the soul the body should be guided.
|
The body of itself no ill hath known,
|
If I did what thou didst, the guilts thine own,
|
For without thee, the body resteth dead,
|
The soul commands, it rests upon thy head.
|
So to conclude, thy guilt exceedeth mine,
|
O how the worms do tare me in my shrine;
|
And therefore fare thee well, poor sinful soul,
|
Thy trespasses pass mine, though they are foul.
|
The Soul speaketh.
|
Most wretched flesh which in the time of life,
|
Was foolish, idle, vain, and full of strife:
|
Though of thy substance thou did speak to me,
|
I do confess I should have bridled thee.
|
But thou through love of pleasure foul and ill,
|
Still me resisted, and would have thy will:
|
When I would thee, O body, have contrould,
|
Straight the worlds vanities did me with-hold.
|
So thou of me didst gain the upper-hand,
|
Inthralling me in worldly pleasures band:
|
That thou and I eternal shall be drownd
|
In hell, when glorious saints in heaven are crownd.
|
But flattering fancy did thy mind so please,
|
Thou never thoughtst to dye till death did cease:
|
This was thy fault, and cursed was our fate,
|
Which we repent, but now, alas, too late.
|
The Body speaketh.
|
O now I weep, being scourgd with mine own rod,
|
We both stand guilty fore the face of God:
|
Both are in fault, and yet not equally,
|
The greatest burthen, soul, on thee doth lye.
|
No wit so mean, but this for truth it knows,
|
That where most gifts of vertue God bestows,
|
There is most due, and ought repayed be,
|
And unto this theres none but will agree.
|
But foolishly thou yieldest unto me,
|
And to my vain desires didst soon agree:
|
But, oh I knew not at the latter hour,
|
But thou and I shall find a death most sure.
|
I greatly fear an everlasting fire:
|
Yet one thing more I do of thee desire,
|
Hast thou been yet among the fiends of hell,
|
Is no hopes left that we with Christ may dwell.
|
False flesh remember Dives was denayd,
|
When for one drop of water he so prayd:
|
Thy question, senceless body, wanteth reason,
|
Redemption now is hopeless, out of season:
|
Vile body go, and rot in bed of clay,
|
Until the great and general judgement-day;
|
Then shalt thou rise, and be with me condemnd,
|
To hells hot lake for ever without end.
|
So fare thee well, I will no longer stay,
|
Hark how the fiends of hell call me away:
|
The loss of heavenly joys tormenteth me,
|
More then all tortures that in hell can be.
|
The Devil speaketh.
|
Ho, are you come, whom we expected long?
|
Now we will make you sing another song:
|
Howling and yelling still shall be your note,
|
And moulted lead be poured down your throat.
|
Such horror we do on our servants load,
|
Now thou art worse then is the crawling toad:
|
Ten thousand torments thou shalt now abide,
|
When thou in flaming sulphre shalt be fryd.
|
Thou art a souldier of our camp enrould,
|
Never henceforth shalt thou the light behold:
|
The pains prepard for thee no tongue can tell,
|
Welcome, O welcome, to the pit of hell.
|
The Writer speaketh.
|
At this the groaning soul did weep most sore,
|
And then the fiends with joy did laugh and roar:
|
Those devils did seem more black then pitch or night,
|
Whose horrid shapes did sorely me affright.
|
Sharp steeled forks each in their hands did bear,
|
Tusked their teeth like crooked mattocks were,
|
Fire and brimstone then they breathed out,
|
And from their nostrils snakes crawld all about.
|
Foul filthy horns on their black brows they wore,
|
Their nails were like the tushes of a boar:
|
Those hellish fiends fast bound this wretched soul,
|
And dragd him in, who grievously did howl.
|
Then straight methought appeared in my sight,
|
A beautious young man cloathed all in white:
|
His face did shine most glorious to behold,
|
Wings like the rain-bow, and his hair like gold.
|
With a sweet voice, All hail, all hail, quoth he,
|
Arise and write what here thou now dost see:
|
Most heavenly musick seemed then to play,
|
And in a cloud he vanisht quite away.
|
Awaking straight, I took my pen in hand,
|
To write those lines the young man did command,
|
And so abroad into the world it sent,
|
That each good christian may in time repent.
|
Then let us fear the Lord both night and day,
|
Preserve our souls and bodies we thee pray:
|
God grant we may so run this mortal race,
|
That we in heaven may have a resting-place.
|
Preserve the King, the Queen, and Progeny,
|
The Clergy, Counsel, and Nobility,
|
Preserve our souls and bodies I thee pray,
|
Amen, with me, let all good Christians say.
|
|
|
|
|
|