 | Poems by Robert Gomersall |  |
Vpon a vertuous Magistrate.
Sleepe lov'd soule, and let those eyes
Which to rest were enemies
Be atton'd at last, and lye
Quiet to Æternity,
Which to rest were enemies
Be atton'd at last, and lye
Quiet to Æternity,
Lie they quiet, but let ours
Earnestly distill salt showers,
And though they doe see the lesse
Make a mourning businesse:
'Twere an act too neere to hate
Him in rest to imitate?
Earnestly distill salt showers,
And though they doe see the lesse
Make a mourning businesse:
'Twere an act too neere to hate
Him in rest to imitate?
Howle ye Poore, now he is gone
Who shall stop oppression?
Who shall make the wary Law
Speake uprightly, and not draw
Specious colours, to indeare
What were foule if it were cleare?
Now ther's none your cause indures,
Not because 'tis naught, but yours,
Who will make the rich to see
That unto an injury
They are poore themselves? and find
All their sinnes within their mind.
For his wisedome did provide
That they should hurt none beside.
But now all the world may doe
What they are addicted to:
Lye, dissemble, cogge, and cheate,
Make the easie poore their meate,
And when they have raged thus
Still be counted vertuous,
Have the name, which he deserv'd
And be prais'd though they have swerv'd.
Who shall stop oppression?
Who shall make the wary Law
Speake uprightly, and not draw
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What were foule if it were cleare?
Now ther's none your cause indures,
Not because 'tis naught, but yours,
Who will make the rich to see
That unto an injury
They are poore themselves? and find
All their sinnes within their mind.
For his wisedome did provide
That they should hurt none beside.
But now all the world may doe
What they are addicted to:
Lye, dissemble, cogge, and cheate,
Make the easie poore their meate,
And when they have raged thus
Still be counted vertuous,
Have the name, which he deserv'd
And be prais'd though they have swerv'd.
This in publike. But his life
Did maintaine a glorious strife
VVhich should be commended most,
VVhether we might trulier boast
Close, or open acts: If we
Looke on that, which we can see,
That is thought the best, but then
VVhat we heare excells agen;
So that which to trust we feare,
If our eye, or else our eare,
And there is no meane debate
Twixt the Man, and Magistrate.
Did maintaine a glorious strife
VVhich should be commended most,
VVhether we might trulier boast
Close, or open acts: If we
Looke on that, which we can see,
That is thought the best, but then
VVhat we heare excells agen;
So that which to trust we feare,
If our eye, or else our eare,
And there is no meane debate
Twixt the Man, and Magistrate.
But I interrupt the rest,
Thou, who now amongst the blest
Lookst on thy Creators face,
Countst our praise a kind disgrace;
And dost feare those acts were bad,
VVhich no better praisers had.
Thou, who now amongst the blest
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Countst our praise a kind disgrace;
And dost feare those acts were bad,
VVhich no better praisers had.
Sleepe then still, and let those eyes,
VVhich to rest were enemies,
Be atton'd at last, and lye
Seal'd up to Æternity.
VVhich to rest were enemies,
Be atton'd at last, and lye
Seal'd up to Æternity.
| Poems by Robert Gomersall | |