Sir Thomas Smith: Literary and Linguistic Works [1542. 1549. 1568] Part I Certaigne psalmes or songues of David: translated into Englishe meter by Sir Thomas Smith, Knight, then Prisoner in the Tower of London, with other prayers and songues by him made to pas the tyme there. 1549 ... By Bror Danielsson |
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THE PSALME 54.
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 | Sir Thomas Smith: Literary and Linguistic Works [1542. 1549. 1568] Part I |  |
THE PSALME 54.
Exaudi deus orationem meam.
Do thou, o Lorde,
My prayer heare,
Thine help I do abid;
To my peticion
Encline thin eare,
Do not thee from me hid.
My prayer heare,
Thine help I do abid;
To my peticion
Encline thin eare,
Do not thee from me hid.
Take heed to me,
My God, I say
And heare me in my pain,
How piteously
I moorn and pray
And lamentably complain.
My God, I say
And heare me in my pain,
How piteously
I moorn and pray
And lamentably complain.
The enimie
Crieth on me so,
Thungodlie cometh on me so fast;
Thei mind to me
Great mischief to do,
Which maketh me agast.
Crieth on me so,
Thungodlie cometh on me so fast;
Thei mind to me
Great mischief to do,
Which maketh me agast.
My hart is hevie
Within my brest,
As heavye as ever was lead;
With feare of death
I am sore prest,
I were as good be deade.
Within my brest,
As heavye as ever was lead;
With feare of death
I am sore prest,
I were as good be deade.
For feare I tremble
Now and quak
As a ship that hath lost her helme;
An horrible dread
Maketh my hart ak,
And doth me ouerwhelme.
Now and quak
As a ship that hath lost her helme;
An horrible dread
Maketh my hart ak,
And doth me ouerwhelme.
O that I had winges,
I said, lik a dove,
That I might flie to some nest,
And convey my self
By the skie aboue
To a place where I might rest.
I said, lik a dove,
That I might flie to some nest,
And convey my self
By the skie aboue
To a place where I might rest.
Then wold I hence
Get me away farr,
And for a tyme remain,
And wilderness
Wolde I mak my barr
To saue me from this pain.
Get me away farr,
And for a tyme remain,
And wilderness
Wolde I mak my barr
To saue me from this pain.
Tavoide this blustering
Stormie wind
I wold mak right great hast,
And hid me where
Thei shuld not me find
Till the tempest were ouerpast.
Stormie wind
I wold mak right great hast,
And hid me where
Thei shuld not me find
Till the tempest were ouerpast.
O Lord, my God,
Destroy those tongues
And divid them into partes;
I se iniustice then
Them amonges
In the citie spitefull hartes.
Destroy those tongues
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I se iniustice then
Them amonges
In the citie spitefull hartes.
Lies and sclaunders
Both day and night
All about the walles doth fill,
Mischief and murdre
And bloodwite
And vice in the midds of it still
Both day and night
All about the walles doth fill,
Mischief and murdre
And bloodwite
And vice in the midds of it still
Vngodlie wickednes
Is therin,
Falsehod, crafte, and deceite;
Trecherie and gile
Is not thyn
But full in every streight.
Is therin,
Falsehod, crafte, and deceite;
Trecherie and gile
Is not thyn
But full in every streight.
If it were myn enimie,
I wolde it beare,
Or one that I did knowe
To have born me ill will,
I wolde not feare
Tavoid this ouerthrowe.
I wolde it beare,
Or one that I did knowe
To have born me ill will,
I wolde not feare
Tavoid this ouerthrowe.
But now it is
Even thou I see
My compaignion, guide, and freend,
Myn olde familiar
That hurtes me,
That makes me doubt theend.
Even thou I see
My compaignion, guide, and freend,
Myn olde familiar
That hurtes me,
That makes me doubt theend.
Sweet comunicacions
Haue we had togither,
And secretely have we talked;
In the howse of the Lord
Hither and thither
Full lovingly haue we walked
Haue we had togither,
And secretely have we talked;
In the howse of the Lord
Hither and thither
Full lovingly haue we walked
For my part I will
On the Lord call,
And my moone to him I will mak;
Help me, I know,
Than my God shall
And pitie vpon me tak.
On the Lord call,
And my moone to him I will mak;
Help me, I know,
Than my God shall
And pitie vpon me tak.
In the even and morn
And at noone day
I will moorn and complain;
For he doth heare
My voice alway
And ease me of my pain.
And at noone day
I will moorn and complain;
For he doth heare
My voice alway
And ease me of my pain.
It is he that keepeth
My soule in peace
From them that lieth in waite;
Thei lay many snares,
But he will me release
And snatche away their baite.
My soule in peace
From them that lieth in waite;
Thei lay many snares,
But he will me release
And snatche away their baite.
Even God that sittes
On high, I say,
And of heaven holdeth the crown,
Will heare me, when
To him I pray,
And bring myn enimie down.
On high, I say,
And of heaven holdeth the crown,
Will heare me, when
To him I pray,
And bring myn enimie down.
For thei will not turne
And whi say yow?
For God thei do not feare.
To his great iustice
Thei will not bow
Nor his comaundementes heare.
And whi say yow?
For God thei do not feare.
To his great iustice
Thei will not bow
Nor his comaundementes heare.
Upon such as he loueth
Thei lay their handes;
And such as be at peace
With God, thei cast
Streight into bandes;
Gods promis thei do release.
Thei lay their handes;
And such as be at peace
With God, thei cast
Streight into bandes;
Gods promis thei do release.
Their mouthes than butter
Be more softe,
Yet battail thei beare in their mynd;
Smoother than oile
Their woords be wrought,
Yet wordes ye shall them find
Be more softe,
Yet battail thei beare in their mynd;
Smoother than oile
Their woords be wrought,
Yet wordes ye shall them find
Well, cast thi care
Vpon the Lorde,
He will thee nourish and keepe;
He will not long
Leave the in this cord,
Nor suffer his rightuous to weepe.
Vpon the Lorde,
He will thee nourish and keepe;
He will not long
Leave the in this cord,
Nor suffer his rightuous to weepe.
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But them, o God,
Thou shalt cast down,
And thrust into the pit,
That thus do stande
Against thi crown;
Their malice shall them hitt.
Thou shalt cast down,
And thrust into the pit,
That thus do stande
Against thi crown;
Their malice shall them hitt.
Thei that thurst blood
And deceitefull bee
Shall not live half their daies;
But my trust, o Lord,
Is fixed on thee,
And so shall it be alwais.
And deceitefull bee
Shall not live half their daies;
But my trust, o Lord,
Is fixed on thee,
And so shall it be alwais.
| Sir Thomas Smith: Literary and Linguistic Works [1542. 1549. 1568] Part I | |