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 | Poems by Robert Gomersall |  |
And now I hast unto my songs conclusion;
Israels conquest, Benjamins confusion:
Of all that valiant number which but now
Made treble numbers to their valor bow:
Onely sixe hundred scape away, so few,
They were scarceable to commit anew
The Crime for which they suffer'd; had not Night
Became their Vmpire and forbad the Fight,
Those few had perisht too; then at the last
Let future Ages learne of Ages past
How vice rewards her servants! Let them be
Afraid at leastwise of the misery,
Who slight the sinne: why should a beauteous face
Make my soule foule? and an externall grace
Bereave me of my inward? O despaire!
Shall I be bad, because another's faire?
Hence that poore folly, rather let us winne
A conquest by the losse of Benjamin.
To know that those bely'd, and stolne delights
Are not of so long lasting as the Nights,
In which we did injoy them, how the Day
Takes both their darknesse, and our sweets away:
To understand that tardy heav'n is just,
That Ruine is the consequent of Lust.
Israels conquest, Benjamins confusion:
Of all that valiant number which but now
Made treble numbers to their valor bow:
Onely sixe hundred scape away, so few,
They were scarceable to commit anew
80
Became their Vmpire and forbad the Fight,
Those few had perisht too; then at the last
Let future Ages learne of Ages past
How vice rewards her servants! Let them be
Afraid at leastwise of the misery,
Who slight the sinne: why should a beauteous face
Make my soule foule? and an externall grace
Bereave me of my inward? O despaire!
Shall I be bad, because another's faire?
Hence that poore folly, rather let us winne
A conquest by the losse of Benjamin.
To know that those bely'd, and stolne delights
Are not of so long lasting as the Nights,
In which we did injoy them, how the Day
Takes both their darknesse, and our sweets away:
To understand that tardy heav'n is just,
That Ruine is the consequent of Lust.
| Poems by Robert Gomersall | |