[The Courte of Vertu contaynynge many holy songes, Sonettes, psalmes and ballettes] [by John Hall] |
 |
 |
The songe of Esechia,
|
 | [The Courte of Vertu |  |
The songe of Esechia,
Ego dixi in dimidio. &c. Esaie .xxxviii.
Vnto
the gates of hell
I wente I should haue wende,
Amid my days whē as I thought
My yeres were at an ende.
I wente I should haue wende,
Amid my days whē as I thought
My yeres were at an ende.
[61]
With in my selfe I sayde,
I neuer shall agayne
Uisite the Lorde (the lorde I saye)
In this lyfe whyle I reigne.
I neuer shall agayne
Uisite the Lorde (the lorde I saye)
In this lyfe whyle I reigne.
I neuer loke agayne
Before men to appeare,
Nor to beholde no worldly wyghtes
That haue their dwellyng heare.
Before men to appeare,
Nor to beholde no worldly wyghtes
That haue their dwellyng heare.
Myne age is folded vp
Together at this daye:
As one should from the shepeherd poore
His cottage take away.
Together at this daye:
As one should from the shepeherd poore
His cottage take away.
And through my synnes my lyfe
Is cut of and vndo,
As when the weuers worke is done
His webbe he cuttes ato.
Is cut of and vndo,
As when the weuers worke is done
His webbe he cuttes ato.
This pynyng sycknes wyll
My lyfe in sunder rende,
For in one daye I well perceyue
My lyfe shall haue an ende.
My lyfe in sunder rende,
For in one daye I well perceyue
My lyfe shall haue an ende.
Untyll to morowe yet
I thought to lyue so long:
But he my bones hath brused sore
Moste lyke a gyant strong.
I thought to lyue so long:
But he my bones hath brused sore
Moste lyke a gyant strong.
For in one daye thou wylt
Myne ende brynge on me lo:
As swalowes chatter in their laye,
Then gan I to doe so.
Myne ende brynge on me lo:
As swalowes chatter in their laye,
Then gan I to doe so.
62
I cried lyke the crane,
And morned as the doue:
Directyng euer more myne eyes
On hyghe to hym aboue.
And morned as the doue:
Directyng euer more myne eyes
On hyghe to hym aboue.
O lord then sayde I tho
This sycknes doth me presse:
O ease thou me for in thy powre
It is, the same to ceasse.
This sycknes doth me presse:
O ease thou me for in thy powre
It is, the same to ceasse.
What shall I saye, the lorde
His promis made to me,
And he hym selfe performed hath
The same as we may see.
His promis made to me,
And he hym selfe performed hath
The same as we may see.
All whyle I lyue therfore,
It shall not from my mynde,
My bytter life, and howe therin
I founde hym good and kynde.
It shall not from my mynde,
My bytter life, and howe therin
I founde hym good and kynde.
Beyonde their yeres I see
O lorde that men may lyue,
Whiche I to all men wyll declare,
And knowledge wyll them gyue.
O lorde that men may lyue,
Whiche I to all men wyll declare,
And knowledge wyll them gyue.
In those prolonged yeres
Howe I in ioye doe reigne:
And that thou causedst me to slepe
And gaue me lyfe agayne.
Howe I in ioye doe reigne:
And that thou causedst me to slepe
And gaue me lyfe agayne.
My pensifnes beholde,
As bytter was as gall:
And for my health I longed sore
Out of that wofull thrall.
As bytter was as gall:
And for my health I longed sore
Out of that wofull thrall.
[62]
Thy pleasure was to saue
Me from the filthy lake:
For thou O lorde hast all my sinnes
Out trowne behinde thy backe.
Me from the filthy lake:
For thou O lorde hast all my sinnes
Out trowne behinde thy backe.
For hell geues thee no prayse,
Nor death magnificence:
And in their graue none praise thy truth,
That parted be from hence.
Nor death magnificence:
And in their graue none praise thy truth,
That parted be from hence.
The lorde hath wrought my health,
Our songes we therfore sure
Wyll alwayes synge within thy house,
Whyle our lyfe dayes indure.
Our songes we therfore sure
Wyll alwayes synge within thy house,
Whyle our lyfe dayes indure.
| [The Courte of Vertu | |