Godlie Dreame,

Compyled By Eliz. Melvill,
Ladie Culros yonger
, at the request of a friend.

“Introite per angustam portam, nam lata est via quae
ducit ad interitum.”
A coat of arms with the words “In My Defenc God Me Defend”

Printed By Robert Charteris Printer
to the Kings most Excellent Majestie. 16061606.

Cum Privilegio Regali.
A1v A2r

Godlie Dreame,
Compyled by
Eliz. Melvil,
Ladie Culros yonger
, at the request of a friend.

Upon a day as I did mourne full sore,

For sundry things wherein my soule was greeved:

My greefe increased and grew more and more,

I comfort fled and could not be releeved.

With heavinesse my hart was so mischeeved,

I loathed my life, I could not eate nor drinke:

I might not speake, nor looke to none that lived,

But mused alone and divers things did thinke.

This wretched world did sore molest my minde,

I thoght upon this false and mean age:

And how our harts were so to vice inclined,

That Satan seemde most fearefullie to rage.

Nothing in earth my sorrow could asswage,

I felt my sinne most stronglie to increase:

I greeved the spirit that wont to be my pledge,

My soule was plunged into most deepe distresse.

All merinesse did aggravate my paine,

And earthlie joyes did still increase my woe:

In companie I no waies could remaine,

But fled resort, and so alone did goe.

My selie soule was tossed to and fro,

With sundrie thoughts which troubled me full sore,

I preased to pray, but sighs overset me so,

I could do nought but grone and say no more.

B2A2 The A2v

The twinkling teares aboundantlie ran downe,

My hart was easde when I had mournde my fill:

Then I began my lamentation,

And said, “O Lord, how long is it thy will

That thy poore Saints shall be afflicted still?

Alas, how long shall subtle Satan rage?

Make haste, O Lord, thy promise to fulfill,

Make haste to end our painefull pilgremage.”

Thy selie Saints are tossed to and fro,

Awake, O Lord, why sleepest thou so long?

We have no strength against our cruell fo,

In sighs and sobs new changed is our song,

The world prevailes, our enemies are strong,

The wicked rage, but we are poore and weake:

O shew thy selfe, with speede revenge our wrong,

Make short these dayes even for thy chosens sake.

Lord Jesus come and save thine owne elect,

For Satan seekes our simple soules to slay:

The wicked world doth stronglie us infect,

Most monstrous sinnes increases day by day.

Our love growes colde, our zeale is worne away,

Our faith is failde, and we are like to fall:

The Lyon roares to catch us for his pray,

Make haste, O Lord, before we perish all.

These are the dayes that thou so long foretold,

Should come before this wretched world should end:

Now vice abounds, and charitie growes cold,

And even thine owne most stronglie doe offend.

The devill prevailes, his forces he doth bend,

If it could be to wreake thy children deare:

But we are thine, therefore some succour send,

Receive our soules, we wearie wandring heere.

What A3r

What can we doe, we clogged are with sin,

In filthie vice our senslesse soules are drownde:

Though we resolve, we never can begin

To mend our lives, but sin doth still abound.

When wilt thou come? when shal thy thy trumpet sound?

When shall we see that great and glorious day?

O save us Lord, out of this pit profound,

And reave us from this loathsome lump of clay.

Thou knowest our harts, thou seest our whole desire,

Our secret thoughts they are not hid from thee:

Though we offend, thou knowest we strangelie tyre

To beare this weight, our spirit would faine be free.

Alas, O Lord, what pleasure can it be

To live in sin, that sore doth presse us downe:

Oh, give us wings that we aloft may flie,

And end the fight that we may weare the crown.

Before the Lord when I had thus complainde,

My minde grew calme, mine hart was then at rest:

Though I was faint, from foode yet I refrainde

And went to bed, because I thought it best.

With heavinesse my spirit was sore oppresde,

I fell on sleepe, and so againe me thought

I made my mone, and then my greefe increast,

And from the Lord with teares I succour sought.

“Lord Jesus come”, said I, “and end our greefe,

My spirit is vexed, the captive would be free:

All vice abounds, O send us some releefe,

I loath to live, I wish dissolvde to be.

My spirit doth long, and thirsteth after thee,

As thirstie ground requyres a showre of raine:

My hart is dry, as frutlesse barren tree

I feele my selfe, how can I heere remaine?”

With A3v

With sighs and sobs as I did so lament,

Into my dreame I thought there did appeare

A sight most sweete which did me wel content,

An Angell bright with visage shyning cleare.

With loving lookes, and with a smyling cheare,

He asked me, “why art thou thus so sad?

Why gronest thou so? what doest thou dwyning heere?

With carefull cryes in this thy bailfull bed.”

I heare thy sighs. I see thy twinkling teares,

Thou seemest to be in some perplexitie:

What meane thy mones, what is the thing thou feares?

Whom would thou have, in what place would thou be?

Faint not so fast in thy adversitie:

Mourne not so sore, since mourning may not mend:

Lift up thy hart, declare thy greefe to me,

Perchance thy paine brings pleasure in the end.

I sight againe, and said, “alas, for woe,

My greefe is great, I can it not declare:

damagedthis earth I wander to and fro,

A pilgrime sore consumde with sighing sore.

My sinnes adamaged increases more and more,

I loath my life I wearie wandring heere;

I long for heaven, my heritage is there,

I long to live with my Redeemer deare.”

“Is this the cause,” said he, “rise up anone

And follow me, and I shall be thy guide:

And from thy sighs leave off thy heavie mone,

Refraine from teares and cast thy care aside.

Trust in my strength, and in my word confide,

And thou shalt have thy heavie hearts desire:

Rise up with speede, I may not long abide,

Great diligence this matter doth require.”

My A4r

My soule rejoyced to heare his words so sweete,

I looked up and saw his face most faire:

His countenance revived my wearie sprit,

Incontinent I cuist aside my care.

With humble hart I praide him to declare

What was his Name, he answerde me againe:

“I am thy God for whom thou sighs so sair,

I now am comde, thy teares are not in vaine.

I am the way, I am the trueth and life, Thomas Murray
with his hand
I am thy spouse that brings thee store of grace: I am thy Lord that soone shall end thy strife, I am thy love whom thou wouldst faine imbrace. I am thy joy, I am thy rest and peace, Rise up anone and follow after me: I shall thee leade unto thy dwelling place, The Land of rest thou longest so sore to see.”

With joyfull hart I thanked him againe,

“Readie am I”, said I, “and well content:

To follow thee, for heere I live in paine,

A wretch unworth my daies are vainlie spent.

Not one is just, but all is fiercelie bent

To runne to vice, I have no force to stand:

My sins increase, which makes me sore lament,

Make haste, O Lord; I long to see that land.”

“Thy haste is great, he answered me againe,

Thou thinkst thee there, thou art transported so:

That pleasant place must purchast be with paine,

The way is strate, and thou hast farre to goe.

Art thou content to wander to and fro,

Through great deserts through water and through fire:

Through thornes and breares, and many dangers mo,

What saiest thou now? thy feeble flesh will tyre.”

Alas, A4v

“Alas,” said I “although my fleshe be weake,

My spirit is strong and willing for to flee:

O leave me not, but for thy mercies sake

Performe thy word, or else for dule I die.

I feare no paine since I should walke with thee,

The way is long, yet bring me through at last:”

“Thou answerst wel, I am content,” said he,

“To be thy guide, but see thou grip me fast.”

Then up I rose, and made no more delay,

My feeble armes about his neck I cast:

He went before, and still did guide the way,

Thogh I was weake, my spirit did follow fast.

Throgh mosse and myre, throgh ditches deepe we past,

Throgh pricking thornes, throgh water & throgh fyre,

Throgh dreadfull dennes which made my hart agast,

He bare me up when I began to tyre.

Sometime we clamme on craigie Mountaines hie,

And sometimes staid on uglie brayes of sand:

They were so stay that wonder was to see,

But when I feard he held me by the hand.

Throgh thick and thin, throgh sea and eke throgh land,

Throgh great deserts we wandred on our way.

When I was weake and had no strength to stand,

Yet with a looke he did refresh me ay.

Throgh waters great we were compeld to waid,

Which was so deepe that I was like to drowne,

Sometime I sanke, but yet my gratious guide

Did draw me up halfe dead and in a sowne.

In woods most wilde, and far from any towne,

We thirsted throgh, the breares together stack:

I was so weake their strength did beate me downe,

That I was forced for feare to flee aback.

Courage B1r

“Courage,” said he, “thou art midway and more,

Thou may not tyre, nor turne aback againe:

Hold fast thy grip, on me cast all thy care,

Assay thy strength thou shalt not fight in vaine.

I told thee first that thou should suffer paine,

The nearer heaven the harder is the way:

Lift up thy hart and let thy hope remaine,

Since I am guide thou shalt not goe astray.”

Fordward we past on narrow brigs of tree,

Over waters great that hiddeouslie did roare:

There lay below that fearfull was to see,

Most uglie beasts that gaped to devore.

My head grew light and troubled wondrous sore,

My heart did feare, my feete begouth to slide:

But when I cride, he heard me evermore,

And held me up, O blessed be my guide.

Wearie I was, and thought to sit at rest,

But he said “no, thou may not sit nor stand:

Hold on thy course, and thou shalt finde it best

If thou desirest to see that pleasant land.”

Though I was weake, I rose at his command,

And held him fast, at length he leit me see

That pleasant place, that seemde to be at hand,

“Take courage now, for thou art neare”, said he.

I looked up unto that Castell fair,

Glistring like gold and shining silver bright:

The statelie towres did mount above the air,

They blinded me they cuist so great a light.

My heart was glad to see that joyfull sight,

My voyage then I thought was not in vaine:

I him besought to guide me there aright,

With many vowes never to tyre againe.

B Though B1v

“Though thou be neere the way is wondrous hard,

Said he againe, therefore thou must be stout:

Fainte not for feare, for cowards are debarde,

That have no heart to goe their voyage out.

Pluck up thy hart and grip me fast about,

Out through this trance together we must goe:

The way is low, remember for to lout,

If this were past we have not many moe.”

I held him fast as he did give command,

And through the trance together then we went:

Where in the midst great pricks or yron did stand,

Where with my feete was all betorne and rent.

“Take courage now,” said he, “and be content,

To suffer this, the pleasure commes at last:”

I answered not, but ran incontinent

Out over them all, and so the paine was past.

When this was done my heart did dance for joy,

I was so neere I thaught my voyage ended:

I ran before and saught not his convoy,

Nor askt the way because I thought kende it.

On staitlie steps most stoutlie I ascended,

Without his helpe I thought to enter there:

He followed fast and was right sore offended,

And hastelie did draw me downe the stare.

What haste said he, “why ran thou so before?

Without my helpe thinkst thou to clim so hie?

Come downe againe, thou yet must suffer more,

If thou desirest that dwelling place to see.

This statelie stare it was not made for thee,

Hold thou that course thou shalt be thrust aback:”

“Alas” said I, “long wandring wearied me,

Which made me runne the neerest way to take.”

Then B2r

Then he began to comfort me againe,

And said “my friend, thou must not enter thair:

Lift up thy hart, thou yet must suffer paine,

The last assault of force it must be sair.

This goodlie way although it seems so fair,

It is too hie, thou cannot clim so stay:

But looke below beneath that statelie stare,

And thou shalt see another kinde of way.”

I looked downe and saw a Pit most black,

Most full of smooke and flamming fire most fell:

That uglie sight made me to flee aback,

I feared to heare so many shout and yell.

I him besought that he the trueth would tell,

“Is this”, said I, “the Papists purging place?

Where they affirme that selie soules doe dwell,

To purge their sinne before they rest in peace.”

“The braine of man most warelie did invent

That purging place, he answered me againe:

For greedinesse together they consent,

To say that soules in torments must remaine.

While gold and goods releeve them of their paine,

Dipytfull spirits that did the same begin:

O blinded beasts your thoughts are all in vaine,

My blood alone doth cleanse the soule from sin.

This Pit is Hell where through thou now must go,

There is the way that leads thee to thy land:

Now play the man, thou needst not trimble so,

For I shall helpe and hold thee by the hand.”

“Alas,” said I, “I have no force to stand,

For feare I faint to see that uglie sight:

How can I come amongst that bailfull band?

Oh helpe me now, I have no force nor might,”

B2 Oft B2v

“Oft have I heard that they that enters heere,

In this great golfe shall never come againe:

Courage,” said he, “have I not bought thee deare?

My precious blood it was not shed in vaine.

I saw this place, my soule did taste this paine,

Ere ever I went into my Fathers glore:

Through must thou go, but thou shalt not remaine,

Thou needst not feare for I shall goe before.”

“I am content to doe thy whole command,”

Said I againe, and did him fast imbrace:

Then lovinglie he held me by the hand,

And in we went into that fearfull place.

“Hold fast thy grip”, said he, “in any cace,

Let me not slip what ever thou shalt see:

Dread not the death, but stoutlie fordward prease,

For death nor hell shall never vanquish thee.”

His words so sweete did cheare my heavie hart,

Incontinent I cuist my care aside:

“Courage,” said he, “play not a cowards part,

Though thou be weake, yet in my strength confide.”

I though me blest to have so good a guide,

Though I was weake, I knew that he was strong:

Under his wings I thought me for to hide,

If any there should prease to doe me wrong.

Into that Pit when I did enter in,

I saw a sight which made my hart agast:

Poore damned soules tormented sore for sin,

In flamming fire were frying wonder fast.

And uglie spirits, and as I thought them past

My hart grew faint, and I begouth to tyre:

Ere I was ware one gripped me at last,

And held me high above a flamming fyre.

The B3r

ThThe fire was great, the heat did pearse me sore,

My faith grew weak, my grip was wondrous small:

I trembled fast, my feare grew more and more,

My hands did shake that I him held withall.

At length they loused, then I begouth to fall:

And cride aloud, and caught him fast againe;

“Lord Jesus come and rid me out of thrall”,

“Courage,” said he, “now thou art past the paine.”

With this great feare I started and awoke,

Crying aloud, “Lord Jesus come againe”:

But after this no kinde of rest I tooke,

I preased to sleepe, but it was all in vaine.

I would have dreamde of pleasure after paine,

Because I know I shall it finde at last:

God grant my guide may still with me remaine,

It is to come that I beleeved was past.

This is a dreame, and yet I thought it best

To write the same, and keepe it still in minde:

Because I knew there was no earthlie rest

Preparde for us, that hath our harts inclinde

To seeke the Lord we must be purgde and finde,

Our drosse is great the fire must try us sore:

But yet our God is mercifull and kinde,

He shall remaine and helpe us evermore.

The way to Heaven I see is wondrous hard,

My Dreame declares that we have far to goe:

We must be stout for cowards are debarde,

Our flesh of force must suffer paine and woe,

These dririe waies and many dangers moe

Awaits for us, we can not live in rest;

But let us learne since we are warned so

To cleave to Christ, for he can helpe us best.


O selie soules with paines so sore opprest,

That love the Lord, and long for heaven so hie:

Change not your mindes for ye have chosen the best,

Prepare your selves for troubled must ye be.

Fainte not for feare in your adversitie,

It is the way that leads you unto life:

Suffer a while and ye shall shortlie see

The land of rest when ended is your strife.

In wildernesse ye must be tride a while,

Yet fordward prease, and never flee aback:

Like pilgrimes poore and strangers in exile,

Through faire and foull your journey ye must take.

The devill, the world, and all that they can make,

Will send their force to stoppe you in the way:

Your flesh will faint and sometime will grow slake,

Yet come to Christ and he shall helpe you ay.

The thornie cares of this deceitfull life,

Will rent your hart, and make your soule to bleede:

Your flesh and sprit will be at deadlie strife,

Your cruell foe will hold you still in dreed.

And throwe you downe, yet rise againe with speede,

And though ye fall yetly not loitring still:

But call on Christ to helpe you in your neede,

Who will not faill his promise to fulfill.

In floods of woe when we are like to drowne,

Yet clim to Christ and grip him wounder fast:

And though ye sinke and in the deepe fall downe,

Yet cry aloud and he will beare at last.

Dread not the death, nor be not sore agast,

Though all the earth against you should conspyre:

Christ is your guide, and when your paine is past

Ye shall have joy above your harts desyre.

Though B4r

Though in this earth ye shall exalted be,

Feare shall be left to humble you withall:

For if ye chimne on toppes of mountaines hie,

The higher up, the neerer is your fall.

Your honey sweete shall mired be with gall,

Your short delight shall end with paine and greefe:

Yet trust in God, for his assistance call,

And he shall helpe and send you soone releefe.

Though waters great doe compasse you about,

Though tyrants threat, though Lyons rage and rore:

Defy them all and feare not to win out,

Your guide is neere to helpe you evermore.

Though pricks of yron doe prick you wondrous sore,

As noysome lustes that seeke your soule to slay:

Yet cry on Christ and he shall goe before,

The nearer heaven the harder is your way.

Runne but your race, ye must not fainte nor tyre,

Nor sit, nor stand, nor turne aback againe:

If ye intend to have your harts desyre,

Prease forward still although it be with paine.

No rest for you so long as ye remaine

As pilgrime poore into this loathsome life:

Fight out your fight, it shall not be in vaine,

Your rich rewarde is worth a greater strife.

If after teares ye live a whyle in joy,

And get a taste of that eternall glore:

Be not secure, nor slip not your convoy,

For if ye doe, ye shall repent it sore.

He knoweth thsthe way, and he must goe before,

Clim you alone ye shall not misse a fall:

Your filthie flesh it must be troubled more,

If ye forget upon your guide to call.

If B4v

If Christ be gone, although ye seeme to flee

With golden wings above the firmament:

Come downe againe, ye shall not better be,

That pride of yours ye shall right sore repent.

Then hold him fast with humble hart ay bent,

To follow him, althogh through hell and death.

We went before, his soule was torne and rent,

For your deserts he felt his fathers wrath.

Though in the end ye suffer torments fell,

Cleave fast to him that felt the same before:

The way to heaven must be through death and hell,

The last assault will trouble you full sore,

The Lyon then most cruellie will rore,

His time is short, his forces he will bend:

The greater strife; the greater is your glore,

Your paine is short, your joy shall never end.

Rejoice in God, let not your courage faill,

Ye chosen Saints that are afflicted heere:

Though Satan rage, he never shall prevaile,

Fight to the end and stoutlie persevere.

Your God is true, your bloode is to him deare,

Feare not the way, since Christ is your convoy:

When clouds are past the weather will grow cleare,

Ye sow in teares, but ye shall reape in joy.

Both death and hell hath lost their cruell sting,

Your Captaine Christ hath made them all to yeelde:

Lift up your hearts and praises to him sing,

Triumph for joy your enemies are kild.

The Lord of Hostes that is your strength and sheelde,

The Serpents head hath stoutlie tramped downe:

Trust in his strength, passe forward in the field,

Overcome in fight and ye shall weare the Crowne.

The C1r

The king of kings if he be on our side,

We neede not feare who dare against us stand:

Into the field may we not baldlie bide,

When he shall helpe us with his mightie hand?

Who sits above and rules both sea and land,

Who with his breath doth make the hils to shake:

The Hostes of heaven are armed at his command,

To fight the field when we appeare most weake.

Pluck up your hart ye are not left alone,

The Lambe of God shall leade you in the way:

The Lord of Hostes that raignes on royall throne,

Against your foes his Banner will display.

The Angels bright shall stand in good array,

To hold you up, ye neede not feare to fall:

Your enemies shall flee and be your pray,

Ye shall triumph and they shall perish all.

The joy of heaven is worth a moments paine,

Take courage then, lift up your harts on hie:

To judge the earth when Christ shall come againe,

Above the clouds ye shall exalted be.

A Crowne of joy and true felicitie

Awaits for you when finisht is your fight:

Suffer a while and ye shall shortlie see

A glore most great and infinite of weight.

Prepare your selves, be valiant men of war,

And thrust with force out through the narrow way:

Hold on thy course and shrinke not back for feare,

Christ is your guide, ye shall not goe astray.

The tyme is neare, be sober, watch and pray,

He sees your teares, and he hath laid in store:

A rich reward, which in that joyfull day

Ye shall receive and raigne for ever more.

C Now C1v

Now to the King that create all of nought,

The Lord of Lordes that rules both land and sea:

That saved our soules, and with his blood us bought,

And vinquisht death triumphing on the tree.

Unto the great and glorious Trinitie,

That saves the poore, and doth his owne defend:

Be laud and glore, honour and majestie,

Power and praise, Amen, world without end.


A Verie Comfortable Song,

To the Tune of, Shall I let her goe.

Away vaine world bewitcher of mine heart,

My sorrow showes my sinnes makes me to smart:

Yet will I not dispare, but to my God repare,

He hath mercie ay, therefore will I pray,

He hath mercie ay, and loves me,

Though by his troubling hand he proves me.

Away, away, too long thou hast me snarde,

I will not lose more tyme I am preparde:

Thy subtle slights so flie, they have deceived me,

Though they sweetlie smyle, smoothlie they begyle,

Though they sweetlie smyle, suspect them,

The simple sort they syle, reject them.

Once more away showes loath the world to leave,

Bids oft away with her that holds me slave:

Loath I am to forgoe, that sweete alluring foe,

Since thy waies are vaine, shall I them retaine,

Since C2r

Since thy waies are vaine, I quyte thee,

Thy pleasure shall no more delite me.

A thousand times away, ah stay no more,

Sweete Christ me save, lest subtle sin devore:

Without thy helping hand, I have no force to stand,

Lest I turne aside, let thy grace me guide,

Lest I turne aside, draw neere me,

And when I call for helpe, Lord heare me.

What shall I doe, are all my pleasures past?

Shall worldlie lustes now take their leave at last?

Yea Christ, these earthly toyes, shal turn to hevenly joies,

Let the world be gone, I’le love Christ alone,

Let the world be gone, I care not,

Christ is my love alone, I feare not.