 | A Metrical History of Christianity |  |
2
The Lungs those blankets of the heart do findeThemselves blown bladder like up with the Winde
Of Pride that russles in the heart untill
It blow the wildfire up from nature's kill
That blessed Light Constantinople had
Famous Chrysostom, good mens joy, but bad
Who unto holy Lives were cursed foes
Found him a sharp reproover and offt throws
His Rod of Discipline and frowns on Clarks
That vicious are, yea and his Zealous sparks
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The Courtiers, yea the Emp'ress feel his hand
Fall on their sins, at which their stomachs rise
And envie seeke to pluck out's tongue and Eyes.
Theophilus of Alexandria
Makes Satans bellows hellish blasts display
To blow this Light out, others too are bent
Untill he's banisht: Such a foist hell vents.
| A Metrical History of Christianity | |