 | Divine poems
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Eleg. 14.
O how the Priests of Sion, whose pure light
Should shine to such, as grope in Errors night,
And blaze like Lamps, before the darkned eye
Of Ignorance, to raise up those that lie
In dull despaire, and guide those feet that strey,
Ay me! How blinde, how darke, how dull are they!
Fierce rage, & fury drives them through the street,
And, like to mad men, stabbe at all they meet;
They weare the purple Livery of Death,
And live themselves, by drawing others breath;
Say (wasted Sion) could Revenge behold
So foule an acted Scene as this, and hold?
| Divine poems
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