Religion in Early Stuart England, 1603-1638: An Anthology of Primary Sources

William Strode: Sacred Poems ca. 1625–45

647 William Strode1 Sacred Poems ca.1625–45 On Fairford windows I know no paint of poetry Can mend such colored imag’ry In sullen ink; yet, Fairford, I May relish thy fair memory. Such is the echo’s fainter sound, 5 Such is the light when sun is drown’d; So did the fancy look upon The work before it was begun; Yet when those shews are out of sight, My weaker colors may delight. 10 Those images so faithfully Report true feature to the eye As you may think each picture was Some visage in a looking-glass, Not a glass-window face; unless 15 Such as Cheapside hath, where a press Of painted gallants looking out Bedeck the casement round about. But these have holy phis’nomy: Each pane instructs the laity 20 1 {My deepest gratitude to Margaret Forey for her help with textual emendations based on Strode’s rediscovered manuscript , which I have silently substituted for the Dobell readings whenever the manuscript version seemed clearly superior.} Religion in Early Stuart England, 1603–1638 648 With silent eloquence, for here Devotion leads the eye, not ear, To note the catechizing paint, Whose easy phrase doth so acquaint Our sense with Gospel, that the Creed, 25 In such a hand,2 the weak may read. Such types, even yet, of virtue be;3 And Christ, as in a glass, we see. Behold two turtles in one cage, With such a lovely equipage,4 30 As they who knew them long may doubt Some young ones have been stolen out. When, with a fishing rod, the clark Saint Peter’s draught of fish doth mark, Such is the scale, the eye, the fin, 35 You’d think they strive and leap within; But if the net which holds them break, He with his angle some would take. But would you walk a turn in Paul’s? Look up; one little pane enrolls 40 A fairer temple: fling a stone, The church is out o’ the windows thrown. Consider, but not ask your eyes,5 And ghosts at midday seem to rise; The saints there, striving to descend, 45 Are past the glass, and downward bend. Look there! The devil! all would cry Did they not see that Christ was by. See where he suffers for thee. See His body taken from the tree: 50 Had ever death such life before? The limber corpse, besullied o’er With meager paleness, doth display A middle state twixt flesh and clay; His arms and legs, his head and crown, 55 Like a true lambskin dangling down. Who can forbear, the grave being nigh, To bring fresh ointment in his eye? The wondrous art hath equal6 fate, 2 {in such handwriting, i.e., the language of images} 3 {I.e., they still retain their power or efficacy (a standard early meaning of “virtue”).} 4 {attire, “get up”—here presumably the turtledoves’ feathers} 5 {The Corpus Christi manuscript reads “Consider not, but ask your Eyes”—a significant variant.} 6 {The fate of the windows—the fact that, although unprotected, they have remained unharmed—is a wonder equal to that of their art (with thanks to Margaret Forey for this gloss).} 649 William Strode Unfenc’d and yet unviolate. 60 The puritans were sure deceiv’d, And thought those shadows mov’d and heav’d, So held from stoning Christ; the wind And bois’trous tempests were so kind As on his image not to prey, 65 Whom both the winds and seas obey. At Momus’ wish7 be not amaz’d; For if each Christian heart were glaz’d With such a window, then each breast Might be his own evangelist. On the Bible Behold this little volume here enroll’d:8 ’Tis the Almighty’s present to the world. Hearken, earth, earth; each senseless thing can hear His Maker’s thunder, though it want an ear. God’s word is senior to his works; nay, rather, 5 If rightly weigh’d, the world may call it father: God spake, ’twas done; this great foundation Is the Creator’s exhalation Breath’d out in speaking. The best work of man Is better than his word; but if we scan 10 God’s word aright, his works far short do fall: The Word is God; the works are creatures all. The sundry pieces of this general frame Are dimmer letters, all which spell...