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 imprisonment,
and to keep their Vows, shewing the way to true liberty.
Tune of, Love with unconfined wings, Or, No, no, no, no, not yet.
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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 lye tangled in her hair,
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being fettered in her eye,
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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 flatering words,
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doth seek me to insnare:
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T[h]ey 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, & 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 then 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 controul,
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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 Rules too and fro doth run,
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above and beneath the sky:
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The greatest Potentate 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 that's in the wall:
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Yet though I am in prison cast,
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my sences mount on high,
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The wind that bloweth where it lift,
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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 dye,
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None but he can pardon me,
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nor work my liberty.
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There's 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 poor'st of all
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from worldly care am free,
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Which makes me think they live in thrall,
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and I at liberty.
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the man that bears a wavering mind
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is subject to much woe,
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He that to anger is inclin'd,
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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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This 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 barrs a Cage,
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A spotless soul being innocent,
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calls that his hermitage
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So I am blameless in my choice,
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and from all troubles free,
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Angels alone that are above,
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enjoy such liberty.
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