The Poems of Edward Taylor Edited by Donald E. Standford ... With a foreword by Louis L. Martz |
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Mans Perplexity when calld to an account. |
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 | The Poems of Edward Taylor |  |
Mans Perplexity when calld to an account.
Justice, and Mercy ending their Contest,
In such a sort, now thrust away the Desk.
And other titles come in Majesty,
All to attend Almighty royally.
Which sparkle out, call man to come and tell
How he his Cloath defild and how he fell?
In such a sort, now thrust away the Desk.
And other titles come in Majesty,
All to attend Almighty royally.
Which sparkle out, call man to come and tell
How he his Cloath defild and how he fell?
He on his skirts with Guilt, and Filth out peeps
With Pallid Pannick Fear upon his Cheeks,
With Trembling joynts, and Quiverring Lips, doth quake
As if each Word he was about to make,
Should hackt a sunder be, and Chopt as small
As Pot herbs for the pot before they Call
Upon the Understanding to draw neer,
By tabbering on the Drum within the eare.
His Spirits are so low they'l scarce afford
Him Winde enough to wast a single word
Over the Tongue unto one's eare: yet loe,
This tale at last with sobs, and sighs lets goe,
Saying, my Mate procurde me all this hurt,
Who threw me in my best Cloaths in the Dirt.
With Pallid Pannick Fear upon his Cheeks,
With Trembling joynts, and Quiverring Lips, doth quake
As if each Word he was about to make,
Should hackt a sunder be, and Chopt as small
As Pot herbs for the pot before they Call
Upon the Understanding to draw neer,
By tabbering on the Drum within the eare.
His Spirits are so low they'l scarce afford
Him Winde enough to wast a single word
Over the Tongue unto one's eare: yet loe,
This tale at last with sobs, and sighs lets goe,
Saying, my Mate procurde me all this hurt,
Who threw me in my best Cloaths in the Dirt.
399
Thus man hath lost his Freehold by his ill:
Now to his Land Lord tenent is at Will.
And must the Tenement keep in repare
Whate're the ruins, and the Charges are.
Nay, and must mannage war against his Foes.
Although ten thousand strong, he must oppose.
Some seeming Friends prove secret foes, which will
Thrust Fire i'th'thatch, nay stob, Cut throate and kill.
Some undermine the Walls: Some knock them down,
And make them tumble on the Tenents Crown.
He's then turnd out of Doors, and so must stay,
Till's house be rais'd against the Reckoning day.
Now to his Land Lord tenent is at Will.
And must the Tenement keep in repare
Whate're the ruins, and the Charges are.
Nay, and must mannage war against his Foes.
Although ten thousand strong, he must oppose.
Some seeming Friends prove secret foes, which will
Thrust Fire i'th'thatch, nay stob, Cut throate and kill.
Some undermine the Walls: Some knock them down,
And make them tumble on the Tenents Crown.
He's then turnd out of Doors, and so must stay,
Till's house be rais'd against the Reckoning day.
| The Poems of Edward Taylor | |