"Not far remov'd before, but a new Fear, / And crowding anxious Thoughts surpriz'd 'em here."
— Wesley, Samuel, The Elder (bap. 1662, d. 1735)
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for Charles Harper ... and Benj. Motte [etc.]
Date
1693
Metaphor
"Not far remov'd before, but a new Fear, / And crowding anxious Thoughts surpriz'd 'em here."
Metaphor in Context
With him agen, Sweet Muse, to Earth return,
Where his sad Death his Friends, mistaken, mourn;
His Death who cannot die, or if before,
He his Clay-house forsook, can die no more:
His Body now Spiritual and refin'd,
A fit Companion for so pure a Mind;
Active and agile, prest and ready 't stands,
As swift as Thought t'obey the Soul's commands;
Like that it moves, and in a moment flies,
From East to West, from Earth to Paradise.
This knew not they, who yet lamenting were,
And lost in stupid Sorrow and Despair;
Forgot the Promise of his sure return,
And, without either Faith or Hope they mourn;
Sad was the Feast to them, no cheerful Ray
It wore, as sad the Night that clos'd the Day:
With kinder Omens the third Morn appears,
The happy Morning doom'd to dry their Tears.
"Kind Phosphor bring the Day, why this Delay,
"Jesus is rising--Phosphor bring the Day!
Hast his dull Steeds, for if he longer stay,
Another Sun will rise, a Sun so bright,
The World no more will need his weaker Light.
Earlier than he fair Magdalena rose,
And to the Tomb with Spice and Ungeuents goes,
Him to embalm who no Corruption knew;
The same officious kindness thither drew
Her weeping Friends, who tho' their Fear was strong,
Their Love was more; sad Tales the Way prolong,
As cheerful shorten, tho' at last they come
To th' steep Ascent, the Garden and the Tomb,
Not far remov'd before, but a new Fear,
And crowding anxious Thoughts surpriz'd 'em here:
Not yet secure the doubtful Jews they heard,
As Guilt is still suspicious, plac'd a Guard
Around the Sepulchre, a Seal secur'd
The pond'rous Stone their mighty Foe immur'd;
Nor think yet safe or deep enough he lies,
For they too heard, he the third Day wou'd rise,
Whose pow'rful Word had others rais'd; nor yet,
Can they the wond'rous Lazarus forget,
Or Naim's twice-born Youth.--Their Fear not vain.
Nor longer Hades cou'd his Soul retain:
A Conqu'ror thence he rose, where late he fell,
And drags in Triumph after Death and Hell:
He did, he came--All Nature must obey
Its Sovereign Lord; he will'd the Stone away:
Tho' all around officious Angels stay'd,
For Pomp, not Service there, nor needs their Aid.
Jesus is risen, Triumphal Anthems sing:
Thus from dead Winter mounts the sprightly Spring;
Thus does the Sun from Night's black Shades return,
And thus the single Bird wings from th' Arabian Urn:
Jesus is risen; he'll the World restore,
Awake ye Dead! dull Sinners sleep no more!
In Pleasures soft Enchantments slumb'ring deep,
Or Sleep no more, or else for ever sleep!
But tho' himself he's gone, his tender care
Still left two bright Attendant Angels there;
Those early pious Pilgrims to console,
Who with mistaken Tears his Loss condole:
Their trembling Feet no sooner had they set
I'th' Garden Walks, but they new Wonders met;
The Earth too trembled where so late he lay,
And Nature's self-seem'd more affraid than they:
And lo! the beauteous bashful Clouds divide,
And rev'rently stand off on either side;
As at th' approach of Earthly Majesty,
A living Lane is made till all the Pomp go by:
And lo! a heavenly Youth does downward move,
The loveliest Form in all the Realms of Love;
From the Caves mouth he rolls the mighty Stone,
From whence before our conq'ring Lord was gone,
He rolls it, and triumphant sits thereon:
The Roman Guards, nor were they us'd to fear,
Their Stations held, till the bright Form was near;
Fain, impious! wou'd resistance make, and fain
They would have drawn their Swords, but strove in vain
Against th' unequal Foe, in vain they rear
Their useless Piles, suspended in the Air;
Their Hands, their Souls disarm'd they quickly found,
They fall, their Armour clanks against the Ground:
To the soft Sex more calmly did appear,
Dress'd in a milder and less warlike Air,
The heav'nly Youth--You have no need to fear:
We in your Cause engage with all our Pow'rs;
I know you seek your suffring Lord and ours;
Too late; alas! You seek him here, he said,
Him who for ever lives, among the Dead.
Dry your vain Tears, nor longer him deplore,
Your mighty Saviour lives to die no more!
'Tis the third Day, he promis'd then to rise,
Nor cou'd deceive--Look in and trust your Eyes!
See where he by your selves was laid, see there
The Linnen, and the empty Sepulchre:
Be you the first Apostles, quickly go,
And to th' Eleven the happy Tidings show.
Where his sad Death his Friends, mistaken, mourn;
His Death who cannot die, or if before,
He his Clay-house forsook, can die no more:
His Body now Spiritual and refin'd,
A fit Companion for so pure a Mind;
Active and agile, prest and ready 't stands,
As swift as Thought t'obey the Soul's commands;
Like that it moves, and in a moment flies,
From East to West, from Earth to Paradise.
This knew not they, who yet lamenting were,
And lost in stupid Sorrow and Despair;
Forgot the Promise of his sure return,
And, without either Faith or Hope they mourn;
Sad was the Feast to them, no cheerful Ray
It wore, as sad the Night that clos'd the Day:
With kinder Omens the third Morn appears,
The happy Morning doom'd to dry their Tears.
"Kind Phosphor bring the Day, why this Delay,
"Jesus is rising--Phosphor bring the Day!
Hast his dull Steeds, for if he longer stay,
Another Sun will rise, a Sun so bright,
The World no more will need his weaker Light.
Earlier than he fair Magdalena rose,
And to the Tomb with Spice and Ungeuents goes,
Him to embalm who no Corruption knew;
The same officious kindness thither drew
Her weeping Friends, who tho' their Fear was strong,
Their Love was more; sad Tales the Way prolong,
As cheerful shorten, tho' at last they come
To th' steep Ascent, the Garden and the Tomb,
Not far remov'd before, but a new Fear,
And crowding anxious Thoughts surpriz'd 'em here:
Not yet secure the doubtful Jews they heard,
As Guilt is still suspicious, plac'd a Guard
Around the Sepulchre, a Seal secur'd
The pond'rous Stone their mighty Foe immur'd;
Nor think yet safe or deep enough he lies,
For they too heard, he the third Day wou'd rise,
Whose pow'rful Word had others rais'd; nor yet,
Can they the wond'rous Lazarus forget,
Or Naim's twice-born Youth.--Their Fear not vain.
Nor longer Hades cou'd his Soul retain:
A Conqu'ror thence he rose, where late he fell,
And drags in Triumph after Death and Hell:
He did, he came--All Nature must obey
Its Sovereign Lord; he will'd the Stone away:
Tho' all around officious Angels stay'd,
For Pomp, not Service there, nor needs their Aid.
Jesus is risen, Triumphal Anthems sing:
Thus from dead Winter mounts the sprightly Spring;
Thus does the Sun from Night's black Shades return,
And thus the single Bird wings from th' Arabian Urn:
Jesus is risen; he'll the World restore,
Awake ye Dead! dull Sinners sleep no more!
In Pleasures soft Enchantments slumb'ring deep,
Or Sleep no more, or else for ever sleep!
But tho' himself he's gone, his tender care
Still left two bright Attendant Angels there;
Those early pious Pilgrims to console,
Who with mistaken Tears his Loss condole:
Their trembling Feet no sooner had they set
I'th' Garden Walks, but they new Wonders met;
The Earth too trembled where so late he lay,
And Nature's self-seem'd more affraid than they:
And lo! the beauteous bashful Clouds divide,
And rev'rently stand off on either side;
As at th' approach of Earthly Majesty,
A living Lane is made till all the Pomp go by:
And lo! a heavenly Youth does downward move,
The loveliest Form in all the Realms of Love;
From the Caves mouth he rolls the mighty Stone,
From whence before our conq'ring Lord was gone,
He rolls it, and triumphant sits thereon:
The Roman Guards, nor were they us'd to fear,
Their Stations held, till the bright Form was near;
Fain, impious! wou'd resistance make, and fain
They would have drawn their Swords, but strove in vain
Against th' unequal Foe, in vain they rear
Their useless Piles, suspended in the Air;
Their Hands, their Souls disarm'd they quickly found,
They fall, their Armour clanks against the Ground:
To the soft Sex more calmly did appear,
Dress'd in a milder and less warlike Air,
The heav'nly Youth--You have no need to fear:
We in your Cause engage with all our Pow'rs;
I know you seek your suffring Lord and ours;
Too late; alas! You seek him here, he said,
Him who for ever lives, among the Dead.
Dry your vain Tears, nor longer him deplore,
Your mighty Saviour lives to die no more!
'Tis the third Day, he promis'd then to rise,
Nor cou'd deceive--Look in and trust your Eyes!
See where he by your selves was laid, see there
The Linnen, and the empty Sepulchre:
Be you the first Apostles, quickly go,
And to th' Eleven the happy Tidings show.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "thought" and "crowd" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
Samuel Wesley, The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ. An Heroic Poem: Dedicated to Her Most Sacred Majesty. In Ten Books. Attempted by Samuel Wesley ... Each Book illustrated by necessary Notes, explaining all the more difficult Matters in the whole History: Also a Prefatory Discourse concerning Heroic Poetry. With Sixty Copper-Plates (London: Printed for Charles Harper ... and Benj. Motte, 1693).
Date of Entry
03/07/2006
Date of Review
01/11/2012
