 | A Divine Centvrie of Spirituall Sonnets
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Sonnet. LI.
[Breake thou the iawes of olde Leuiathan]
Breake
thou the iawes of olde Leuiathan,
Victorious conquerour, breake thou the iawes,
Which full of blasphemie maligne thy lawes:
Ready to curse, to lie, slaunder and banne,
Which nothing but abhomination can:
Who like a ramping Lyon with his pawes
Thy little flocke with daily dread adawes,
Antichrists Harrould who with pride beganne,
Euen into thy triumphant throane to prease,
And therefore his first comfort had forgonne:
The bodies ruinor, and soules disease,
Bawde to that harlot of proude Babilon,
Which mortall men to mortall sinnes inuiteth,
Teare out those Fangues with which hee thy flocke biteth.
| A Divine Centvrie of Spirituall Sonnets
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