Daughter of Fortitude

I am the dowghter of fortitude,
& ravyshed every howr, from my youth,
for behold, I am understanding, & science dwelleth in me
& the heavens oppress me,
They covet and desyre me with infinite appetite
few or non that are earthly have embraced me
for I am shadowed with the circle of the sonne:
and covered with the morning clouds:
My feet are swifter than the wynds,
& my hands are sweeter than the morning dew.


My garments are from the beginning:
& my dwelling place is in my self.
The lyon knoweth not where I will walk:
neyther do the bestes of the field understand me.
I am deflowered & yet a virgin.
I sanctifie & am not sanctified
happy is he that embraceth me.
for in the night season I am sweete,
in the day full of pleasure


my company is a harmony of many Cymballs
And my lips sweeter than helth it self.
I am a harlot for such as ravish me:
and a virgin with such as know me not:
for lo I am loved of many: & I am a lover to many:
and as many as come unto me as they should do,
have theyr enterteynment.
Purge your streets o you sons of men,
& wash your howses clean.


Make your selves holy, & put on righteousness.
Cast out your old strumpets, & burn theyr clothes.
Absteyn from the company of other women that are defyled,
that are sluttish, & not so handsome, & bewtiful as I.
And then will I come & dwell amongst you.
And behold i will bring furth Children unto you:
& they shall be the sons of comfort
I will open my garments,
& stand naked before you
that your love may be more enflamed toward me.


As yet, I walk in the clowdes,
As yet, I am carryed with the wyndes:
And can not descend unto you
for the multitude of your abominations,
& the filthy lothesomnes of your dwelling places.
Behold these fowre,
who is he, that shall say, they have synned:
or unto whom shall they make accownt?
Not unto you, you sons of men,
nor unto the lord belongeth
the Judgment of his servants.


Now therfor, let the erth give furth her fruits unto you:
And let the mowntayns forsake theyr barrenness
wher your fotestepps shall remayne
happy is he that saluteth you:
& cursed is he that holdeth up his hands against you.
& power shall be given unto you
from hence furth to resyst your enemies:
& the lord shall allways here you
in the tymes of your trubbles.
And I am sent unto you to play the harlot with you:
And am to enrich you with the spoyles of other men:
prepare for me, for I comme shortly.
Provyde Your Chambers for me
that they may be swete & clenly:
for I will make a dwelling place amongst you
and I will be common with the father & the sonne, yea
and with all them that truely favoreth you
for my youth is in her flowre
and my strength is not to be extinguished with man.
Strong am I above & below.
Therefor, provyde for me.
for behold I now salute you.
And let peace be amongst you:
for I am the Dowghter of Comfort.


Disclose not my secrets unto women:
nether let them understand how swete i am.
for all things belongeth not unto every one.


I comme unto you again.


A poem that was channeled during the Enochian workings of Dr. John Dee, astrologer to Queen Elizabeth I