 | The Countesse of Pembrokes Emanuel |  |
The threescore and thirteenth Psalme.
God, th'æternall God, noe doubt, is good to the godly,
Giuing grace to the pure, and mercy to Israel holy;
And yet, alas, my feete, my faynt feete gan to be slyding,
And I was almost gone, and fall'n to a dangerus error.
Giuing grace to the pure, and mercy to Israel holy;
And yet, alas, my feete, my faynt feete gan to be slyding,
And I was almost gone, and fall'n to a dangerus error.
For, my soule did grudg, my hart consumed in anger,
And myne eyes disdayng'd, when I saw, that such men abounded
With wealth, health, and ioy, whose myndes with myschif abounded.
Theyr body stowt and strong, theyr lyms stiblyuely apearing
Neyther feare any panges of death, nor feele any sicknes:
Some still mourne, they laughe; some lyue vnfortunat euer,
They for ioy doe triumphe, and taste aduersyty neuer,
Which makes them with pryde, with scorneful pryde to be chayned,
And with blood-thirsting disdaigne as a roabe to be cou'red.
Theyr fare is delicate, theyr flesh is dayntyly pampred,
Theyr eyes with fatnes start out, theyr greedy deuouring
Gutts, swell with swylling; and, what fonde fancy desyreth,
Or lewd lust lyketh, that fortune fryendly afordeth.
Themselus most synfull cause others for to be synners
With theyr poysn'd breath, and vile contagius humors;
They check, scorne, controlle, looke, ouer looke, with a lordlyke
Imperious countnance; theyr mouth fowle blasphemy vttreth,
And fro the forlorne earth, to the heu'ns disdaingfuly mounteth.
And myne eyes disdayng'd, when I saw, that such men abounded
With wealth, health, and ioy, whose myndes with myschif abounded.
Theyr body stowt and strong, theyr lyms stiblyuely apearing
Neyther feare any panges of death, nor feele any sicknes:
Some still mourne, they laughe; some lyue vnfortunat euer,
They for ioy doe triumphe, and taste aduersyty neuer,
Which makes them with pryde, with scorneful pryde to be chayned,
And with blood-thirsting disdaigne as a roabe to be cou'red.
Theyr fare is delicate, theyr flesh is dayntyly pampred,
Theyr eyes with fatnes start out, theyr greedy deuouring
Gutts, swell with swylling; and, what fonde fancy desyreth,
Or lewd lust lyketh, that fortune fryendly afordeth.
Themselus most synfull cause others for to be synners
With theyr poysn'd breath, and vile contagius humors;
They check, scorne, controlle, looke, ouer looke, with a lordlyke
Imperious countnance; theyr mouth fowle blasphemy vttreth,
And fro the forlorne earth, to the heu'ns disdaingfuly mounteth.
This surpassing pompe and pryde allureth a nomber
Eu'n of Gods owne flock, (flock weake and weary with anguish)
Vnto the self same trade, which makes theyr glory the greater.
Tush, say they, can God, fro the highest heu'ns to the lowest
Earth, vouchsaulf, thinck you, those Prince like eyes to be bowing?
Tis but a vaine conceipt of fooles, to be fondly referring
Euery iesting trick, and trifling toy to the Thundrer.
For loe, these be the men, whose soules are sear'd with an yron,
And yet these be the men, whoe rule and raigne with aboundance;
These, and whoe but these? Why then, what meane I to lift vp
Cleane hands, and pure hart to the heu'ns? What meane I to offer
Praise and thanksgeuing to the Lord? What meane I to suffer
Such plagues with patience? Yea, and almost had I spoken
Eu'n as they did speake, which thought noe God to be guyding.
Eu'n of Gods owne flock, (flock weake and weary with anguish)
Tush, say they, can God, fro the highest heu'ns to the lowest
Earth, vouchsaulf, thinck you, those Prince like eyes to be bowing?
Tis but a vaine conceipt of fooles, to be fondly referring
Euery iesting trick, and trifling toy to the Thundrer.
For loe, these be the men, whose soules are sear'd with an yron,
And yet these be the men, whoe rule and raigne with aboundance;
These, and whoe but these? Why then, what meane I to lift vp
Cleane hands, and pure hart to the heu'ns? What meane I to offer
Praise and thanksgeuing to the Lord? What meane I to suffer
Such plagues with patience? Yea, and almost had I spoken
Eu'n as they did speake, which thought noe God to be guyding.
But soe should I alas, haue iudgd thy folk to be luckles,
Thy sons forsaken, thy saincts vnworthily haples.
Thy sons forsaken, thy saincts vnworthily haples.
Then did I thinck, and muse, and search what might be the matter,
But yet I could not, alas, conceaue soe hidden a woonder:
Vntil I left myself, and all my thoughts did abandon,
And to thy sacred place, to thy Sanct'uary lastly repayred.
But yet I could not, alas, conceaue soe hidden a woonder:
Vntil I left myself, and all my thoughts did abandon,
And to thy sacred place, to thy Sanct'uary lastly repayred.
Then did I see, ô Lord, these mens vnfortunat endings
Endings meete and fit for their vngodly beginnings.
Then did I see how they did stand in slippery places,
Lifted aloft, that their downefalling might be the greater.
Lyuing Lord, how soone is this theyr glory triumphant
Dasht, confounded, gone, drownd in destruction endles?
Their fame's soone outworne, theyr name's extinct in a moment,
Lyke to a dreame, that lyues by a sleepe, and dyes with a slumber.
Endings meete and fit for their vngodly beginnings.
Then did I see how they did stand in slippery places,
Lifted aloft, that their downefalling might be the greater.
Lyuing Lord, how soone is this theyr glory triumphant
Dasht, confounded, gone, drownd in destruction endles?
Their fame's soone outworne, theyr name's extinct in a moment,
Lyke to a dreame, that lyues by a sleepe, and dyes with a slumber.
Thus my soule did greeue, my hart did languish in anguish,
Soe blynde were myne eyes, my minde soe plunged in error,
That noemore than a beast did I know this mystery sacred.
Yet thou heldst my hande, and keptst my soule fro the dungeon,
Thou didst guyde my feete, and mee with glory receauedst.
For what in heu'n or in earth shal I loue or woorthyly wonder
But my most good God, my Lord and mighty Iehoua?
Though my flesh oft faint, my hart's oft drowned in horror,
God neuer fayleth, but wilbe my mighty protector.
Soe blynde were myne eyes, my minde soe plunged in error,
That noemore than a beast did I know this mystery sacred.
Yet thou heldst my hande, and keptst my soule fro the dungeon,
Thou didst guyde my feete, and mee with glory receauedst.
For what in heu'n or in earth shal I loue or woorthyly wonder
But my most good God, my Lord and mighty Iehoua?
Though my flesh oft faint, my hart's oft drowned in horror,
God neuer fayleth, but wilbe my mighty protector.
Such as God forsake, and take to a slippery comfort,
Trust to a broken staffe, and taste of woorthy reuengement.
In my God therefore my trust is wholly reposed,
And his name wil I praise, and sing his glory renowmed.
Trust to a broken staffe, and taste of woorthy reuengement.
In my God therefore my trust is wholly reposed,
And his name wil I praise, and sing his glory renowmed.
| The Countesse of Pembrokes Emanuel | |