Du Bartas His Divine Weekes And Workes with A Compleate Collectio[n] of all the other most delight-full Workes: Translated and written by yt famous Philomusus: Iosvah Sylvester |
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 | Du Bartas |  |
I made a Covenant with my constant Eyes,
From gazing out on blazing Vanities:
(Having my Choyce, whereon my thoughts were staid)
Why should I once mis-think vpon a Maid?
For, O! for such, what Part, what Portion is
With God, aboue in th'Heritage of Bliss?
Nay: is there not destruction still behinde,
Strange Punishment, for Wicked (of this kinde)?
From gazing out on blazing Vanities:
(Having my Choyce, whereon my thoughts were staid)
Why should I once mis-think vpon a Maid?
For, O! for such, what Part, what Portion is
With God, aboue in th'Heritage of Bliss?
Nay: is there not destruction still behinde,
Strange Punishment, for Wicked (of this kinde)?
933
Are not my Paths apparant vnto God?
Doth not He see and summe the Steps I trod?
Doth not He see and summe the Steps I trod?
If I haue walkt in Vanitie and Pride:
If vnto Fraud my Foot haue ever hy'd:
In his iust Balance let him weigh me right,
And hee shall finde me by his Beam vpright.
If vnto Fraud my Foot haue ever hy'd:
In his iust Balance let him weigh me right,
And hee shall finde me by his Beam vpright.
If that my Steps haue straid, or trod awry:
If that my Heart haue hearkened to mine Eye:
If to my Hand haue cleaved any Spot:
If Blood or Bribes the same did ever Blot;
Then let me Sowe, and Others eat my Crop;
Yea, let my Plant be ever plucked-vp.
If that my Heart haue hearkened to mine Eye:
If to my Hand haue cleaved any Spot:
If Blood or Bribes the same did ever Blot;
Then let me Sowe, and Others eat my Crop;
Yea, let my Plant be ever plucked-vp.
If ever Woman haue my heart beguil'd;
Or I layd wait t'haue Others Wife defil'd:
Let mine again vnto Another grinde,
And me be punisht in my Sins owne kinde.
For This is sure a high and hainous Crime,
To be condemn'd and punisht in the prime:
Yea, 'tis a Fire, whose Fury would not cease,
But ruine all, and root out my Increase.
Or I layd wait t'haue Others Wife defil'd:
Let mine again vnto Another grinde,
And me be punisht in my Sins owne kinde.
For This is sure a high and hainous Crime,
To be condemn'd and punisht in the prime:
Yea, 'tis a Fire, whose Fury would not cease,
But ruine all, and root out my Increase.
If ever I despis'd my Man, or Maid,
Debating with me, and them over-waid;
What shall I doo? What Answer shall I make,
When God, as Iudge, their Cause shall vndertake?
Did not one Maker them and me create,
Of Matter like, in Manner like, and Fate?
Debating with me, and them over-waid;
What shall I doo? What Answer shall I make,
When God, as Iudge, their Cause shall vndertake?
Did not one Maker them and me create,
Of Matter like, in Manner like, and Fate?
If ever I delay'd the Poor's desire:
Or let the Widowes longing Hopes to tire:
Or ever eat my Morsels all alone,
And gaue the Orphan and the needy none
(He hath been with me from my Child-hood bred
As with a Father: Shee, in Husband's sted,
Hath ever had my Counsell for her Guide,
My Power for Guard; my Purse her Want supply'd.)
Or let the Widowes longing Hopes to tire:
Or ever eat my Morsels all alone,
And gaue the Orphan and the needy none
(He hath been with me from my Child-hood bred
As with a Father: Shee, in Husband's sted,
Hath ever had my Counsell for her Guide,
My Power for Guard; my Purse her Want supply'd.)
If I haue seen or suffered any Poor
To lie and die, Naked, or out of Door:
Nay, if his Loynes be-blest not me from harm,
Because my Fleece and Cottage kept them warm:
To lie and die, Naked, or out of Door:
Nay, if his Loynes be-blest not me from harm,
Because my Fleece and Cottage kept them warm:
If ever I, against the Impotent,
Poor, Father-less or Friend-less Innocent
(For Feare or Favour, of a Friend or Foe,
For Gain, or Grudge that I did ever owe)
Haue lift my hand, or him in right witstood;
Or, when I might haue, haue not don him good:
Then let mine Arme off from my Shoulder fall,
And from the bone be pasht to powder all.
For, God's drad Iudgements did I alwaies fear:
Whose Highness VVrath I could nor balk nor bear.
If I on Gold haue fixt my Hope, or Heart;
Or, to the Wedge haue said: My Trust thou art:
If I haue ioy'd for being grow'n so Rich;
Or for my Hands had gotten me so much:
Poor, Father-less or Friend-less Innocent
(For Feare or Favour, of a Friend or Foe,
For Gain, or Grudge that I did ever owe)
Haue lift my hand, or him in right witstood;
Or, when I might haue, haue not don him good:
Then let mine Arme off from my Shoulder fall,
And from the bone be pasht to powder all.
For, God's drad Iudgements did I alwaies fear:
Whose Highness VVrath I could nor balk nor bear.
934
Or, to the Wedge haue said: My Trust thou art:
If I haue ioy'd for being grow'n so Rich;
Or for my Hands had gotten me so much:
If, when I saw the Sun or Moon to shine,
My heart (intiç't) in secret did incline
To th'idle Orgies of an Idolist;
Or (Heathen-like) my Mouth my Hand hath kist:
Or, if, in Summer of my golden Dayes,
Or silver Nights shining with prosperous Rayes,
My heart in private hath been puft too-high,
Ascribing all to mine owne Industrie
(Which had been impious Sacrilege and Pride:
For, then had I the God of Heav'n deny'd):
My heart (intiç't) in secret did incline
To th'idle Orgies of an Idolist;
Or (Heathen-like) my Mouth my Hand hath kist:
Or, if, in Summer of my golden Dayes,
Or silver Nights shining with prosperous Rayes,
My heart in private hath been puft too-high,
Ascribing all to mine owne Industrie
(Which had been impious Sacrilege and Pride:
For, then had I the God of Heav'n deny'd):
If I reioyç't at Ruine of my Foes,
Or haue triumphed in their Overthrowes;
Or haue so much as let my Tongue to roule,
Or Heart to wish a curse vnto their Soule:
Though oft, my Servants, in their rage extream,
Would fain haue beaten, nay, haue eaten them:
Or haue triumphed in their Overthrowes;
Or haue so much as let my Tongue to roule,
Or Heart to wish a curse vnto their Soule:
Though oft, my Servants, in their rage extream,
Would fain haue beaten, nay, haue eaten them:
If I haue shut the Stranger out of Door;
Or let-not-in the weary Pilgrim poor:
If I (like ADAM) haue conceald my Sin,
And closely cloakt my Wickedness with-in:
(Although I could haue over-born, with Aw,
Whole multitudes; the meanest Groom I saw,
I feared so, I durst not wring, nor wrong,
Nor wrangle with: but kept my Tent and Tongue).
Or let-not-in the weary Pilgrim poor:
If I (like ADAM) haue conceald my Sin,
And closely cloakt my Wickedness with-in:
(Although I could haue over-born, with Aw,
Whole multitudes; the meanest Groom I saw,
I feared so, I durst not wring, nor wrong,
Nor wrangle with: but kept my Tent and Tongue).
O! that I had an equall Arbitrer,
(To heare, and waigh, consider, and confer).
Behold my Aime: th'Almightie I desire
(A certain Signe of mine Intent intire)
For, He, I know, would sentence on My side;
And witness for me, that I haue not ly'd.
(To heare, and waigh, consider, and confer).
Behold my Aime: th'Almightie I desire
(A certain Signe of mine Intent intire)
For, He, I know, would sentence on My side;
And witness for me, that I haue not ly'd.
Then, though against me (in his fell Despite)
Mine Adversarie should a Volume write,
It, as a Robe, I on my back would beare,
And as a Garland on my head it weare:
I would, by peece-meale, shew my Conversation,
All so vnlike to all his Accusation,
That clearing Me, it should him more convince,
To come and aske me Pardon, as a Prince.
Mine Adversarie should a Volume write,
It, as a Robe, I on my back would beare,
And as a Garland on my head it weare:
I would, by peece-meale, shew my Conversation,
All so vnlike to all his Accusation,
That clearing Me, it should him more convince,
To come and aske me Pardon, as a Prince.
But, if my Land against me plead or plain;
Or, If my Furrowes cry-out, or complain:
If, Tithe-less, Tax-less, Wage-less, Right-less, I
Haue eat the Crop, or caus'd the Owners die;
In sted of Barley, and the best of Corn,
Grow nothing there, but Thistles, Weeds and Thorn.
Or, If my Furrowes cry-out, or complain:
If, Tithe-less, Tax-less, Wage-less, Right-less, I
Haue eat the Crop, or caus'd the Owners die;
In sted of Barley, and the best of Corn,
Grow nothing there, but Thistles, Weeds and Thorn.
| Du Bartas | |