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