 | Saint Peters complaint |  |
75
New heauen, new warre.
Come to your heauen you heauenly quires,
Earth hath the heauen of your desires;
Remoue your dwelling to your God,
A stall is now his best abode;
Sith men their homage doe denie,
Come Angels all their fault supplie.
Earth hath the heauen of your desires;
Remoue your dwelling to your God,
A stall is now his best abode;
Sith men their homage doe denie,
Come Angels all their fault supplie.
His chilling cold doth heate require,
Come Seraphins in liew of fire;
This little Arke no couer hath,
Let Cherubs wings his body swath:
Come Raphaell, this Babe must eate,
Prouide our little Tobie meate.
Come Seraphins in liew of fire;
This little Arke no couer hath,
Let Cherubs wings his body swath:
Come Raphaell, this Babe must eate,
Prouide our little Tobie meate.
Let Gabriell be now his groome,
That first tooke vp his earthly roome;
Let Michaell stand in his defence,
vvhom loue hath linck'd to feeble sence,
Let Graces rock when he doth crie,
Let Angels sing his lullabie.
That first tooke vp his earthly roome;
Let Michaell stand in his defence,
vvhom loue hath linck'd to feeble sence,
Let Graces rock when he doth crie,
Let Angels sing his lullabie.
76
The same you saw in heauenly seate,
Is he that now sucks Maries teate;
Agnize your King a mortall wight,
His borrowed weede lets not your sight:
Come kisse the maunger where he lies,
That is your blisse aboue the skies.
Is he that now sucks Maries teate;
Agnize your King a mortall wight,
His borrowed weede lets not your sight:
Come kisse the maunger where he lies,
That is your blisse aboue the skies.
This little Babe so few dayes olde,
Is com'd to ryfle sathans folde;
All hell doth at his presence quake,
Though he himselfe for cold doe shake:
For in this weake vnarmed wise,
The gates of hell he will surprise.
Is com'd to ryfle sathans folde;
All hell doth at his presence quake,
Though he himselfe for cold doe shake:
For in this weake vnarmed wise,
The gates of hell he will surprise.
VVith teares he fights and winnes the field,
His naked breast stands for a shield;
His battering shot are babish cryes,
His Arrowes lookes of weeping eyes,
His Martiall ensignes cold and neede,
And feeble flesh his vvarriers steede.
His naked breast stands for a shield;
His battering shot are babish cryes,
His Arrowes lookes of weeping eyes,
His Martiall ensignes cold and neede,
And feeble flesh his vvarriers steede.
His Campe is pitched in a stall,
His bulwarke but a broken wall:
The Crib his trench, hay stalks his stakes,
Of Sheepheards he his Muster makes;
And thus as sure his foe to wound,
The Angells trumps alarum sound.
His bulwarke but a broken wall:
The Crib his trench, hay stalks his stakes,
Of Sheepheards he his Muster makes;
And thus as sure his foe to wound,
The Angells trumps alarum sound.
77
My soule with Christ ioyne thou in fight,
Stick to the tents that he hath dight;
VVithin his Crib is surest ward,
This little Babe will be thy guard:
If thou wilt foyle thy foes with ioy,
Then flit not from the heauenly boy.
Stick to the tents that he hath dight;
VVithin his Crib is surest ward,
This little Babe will be thy guard:
If thou wilt foyle thy foes with ioy,
Then flit not from the heauenly boy.
| Saint Peters complaint | |