University of Virginia Library

In Judahs Vale a Man of wealth abode,
Vile as a Beast, yet Worship'd as a God.
Who Tyrian Clothes and Egypts Linnen ware,
And on whose Table met Land, Sea and Air.
Beneath the Threshold of his Out-most Gate
A pale, deformed, Horrid Carcass Sate.
Another Job—But of more Fixed woes,
Who from his Dunghil never once arose.

The English of Lazarus.

God-Help-Me was his Name. God was his all.

Those few that knew him, Lazarus him did call.
Need, pain and Scorn at once did on him ly.
His Bed was Earth, his Covering was the Sky.
Nothing had he to pay off Natures Scores.
Empty he was of Bread, but full of Sores.

2

Hunger (that Wrack) will make a Man Confess
What modest Minds endeavour to suppress.
Sharp Hunger whets the Wit, and 'mends its strain,
It hurts the Bowels, but it helps the Brain.
A Servant pass'd the Gate, where, lo! he found
This Rueful Object groveling on the Ground.
Said Lazarus, Sir, if Pity be my due,
Give to your Master what I Give to You.