Three Sonnets to St Mary Magdalen

To St. Mary Magdalen

Blessed Offender: who thyself hast tried

How far a sinner differs from a Saint

Join thy wet eyes, with tears of my complaint,

While I sigh for that grave, for which thou cried.

No longer let my sinful soul abide

In fever of thy first desires faint:

But let that love which last thy heart did taint

With pangs of thy repentance pierce my side.

So shall my soul no foolish virgin be

With empty lamp: but like a Magdalen, bear

For ointment box a breast with oil of grace:

And so the zeal, which then shall burn in me,

May make my heart like to a lamp appear

And in my spouse's palace give me place.

To St. Mary Magdalen

Such as retired from sight of men, like thee

By penance seek the joys of heaven to win;

In deserts make their paradise begin:

And even among wild beasts do Angels see.

In such a place my soul doth seem to be

When in my body she laments her sin:

And none but brutal passions finds therein,

Except they be sent down from heaven to mee.

Yet if those graces God to me impart,

Which he inspired thy blessed breast withal;

I may find heaven in my retired heart:

And if thou change the object of my love,

The winged affection which men Cupid call

May get his sight & like an Angel prove.

To St. Mary Magdalen

Sweet Saint: Thou better canst declare to me,

What pleasure is obtained by heavenly love

Than they which other loves did never prove:

Or which in sex are differing from thee:

For like a woman spouse my soul shall be,

Whom sinful passions once to lust did move,

And since betrothèd to God's son above,

Should be enamored with his deity.

My body is the garment of my spright

While as the daytime of my life doth last:

When death shall bring the night of my delight

My soul unclothed shall rest from labors past:

And claspèd in the arms of God, enjoy

By sweet conjunction, everlasting joy.

Henry Constable (1562-1613)

created by Heather C. Milligan