A Mvsicall Consort of Heauenly harmonie (compounded out of manie parts of Musicke) called Chvrchyards Charitie [by Thomas Churchyard] |
 |
[VVhat song should please, a sacred princes eares] |
 | A Mvsicall Consort of Heauenly harmonie |  |
[VVhat song should please, a sacred princes eares]
VVhat song should please, a sacred princes eares
Which likes no tunes, but musick sweet & sound
Weake were my muse, to offer sighes and teares
Where ioyfull mirth, and gladnes doth abound
But troubled mind, that rowles on restles ground
In sorrow sings, the secrets of the hart
Because sad man, can sing no sweeter part.
O charitie helpe.
Which likes no tunes, but musick sweet & sound
Weake were my muse, to offer sighes and teares
Where ioyfull mirth, and gladnes doth abound
But troubled mind, that rowles on restles ground
In sorrow sings, the secrets of the hart
Because sad man, can sing no sweeter part.
O charitie helpe.
Of charitie, that makes a solemne noies
A strange consort, I hope well tunde I bring
Of heauenlie loue, that passeth earthlie Ioies
In formall wise, a true set song I sing
Would God the sound, through al the world might ring
That charitie, which ech one ought to keepe
Might waken now, that long hath laine a sleepe.
O charitie helpe.
A strange consort, I hope well tunde I bring
Of heauenlie loue, that passeth earthlie Ioies
In formall wise, a true set song I sing
Would God the sound, through al the world might ring
That charitie, which ech one ought to keepe
Might waken now, that long hath laine a sleepe.
O charitie helpe.
Shee hath bin brought, in slumber sundrie waies
With lullabie, as nurse doth rocke hir childe
The cradle gaie, of pleasant nights and daies
With too much ease, hath charitie beguilde
And now God wot, the world is waxt so wilde
That charitie, must needs make ech thing tame
That wilde discord, hath brought cleane out of frame.
O charitie helpe.
With lullabie, as nurse doth rocke hir childe
The cradle gaie, of pleasant nights and daies
With too much ease, hath charitie beguilde
And now God wot, the world is waxt so wilde
That charitie, must needs make ech thing tame
That wilde discord, hath brought cleane out of frame.
O charitie helpe.
Pity and ruth, are fled or banisht quite
And in their place, comes rigor rudelie cled
Godlie remorse, is drownd in worlds delite
Good conshence feares, that charitie is dead
Loue looketh downe, and hate holds vp the head
Troth barelie liues, and tretchrie thriues apace
Deserts doth starue, and meanewell hides his face.
O charitie helpe.
And in their place, comes rigor rudelie cled
Godlie remorse, is drownd in worlds delite
Good conshence feares, that charitie is dead
Loue looketh downe, and hate holds vp the head
Troth barelie liues, and tretchrie thriues apace
Deserts doth starue, and meanewell hides his face.
O charitie helpe.
Franknes is blinde, affection dims his sight
Larges is lost, hardnes supplies his place
Wrong runs so swift, it ouer-gallops right
Goodnes limps downe, and halts in many a case
Do well doth droupe, or walks with muffled face
Vertue and vice, now wrastles for a fall
And so the strong, will thrust the weake to wall.
O charitie helpe.
Larges is lost, hardnes supplies his place
Wrong runs so swift, it ouer-gallops right
Goodnes limps downe, and halts in many a case
Do well doth droupe, or walks with muffled face
Vertue and vice, now wrastles for a fall
And so the strong, will thrust the weake to wall.
O charitie helpe.
Stoutnes with strength, strikes flat the feeble force
Downe is kept downe, and neuer like to rise
Malice and might, rides both vpon one horse
(Sir Packolets nagge, that gallops through the skies)
Iudgement growes grosse, ore weening wanteth eies
Will is a wagge, waste hath the wager woon
For all the date, of our redresse is done.
O charitie helpe.
Downe is kept downe, and neuer like to rise
Malice and might, rides both vpon one horse
(Sir Packolets nagge, that gallops through the skies)
Iudgement growes grosse, ore weening wanteth eies
Will is a wagge, waste hath the wager woon
For all the date, of our redresse is done.
O charitie helpe.
Loyaltie weeps, and flattrie laughes and smiles
Goodwill is scornd, and puts vp many a taunt
Pouertie is plagude, or ouermatcht with wiles
Plainnes complaines, but pride bids him auaunt
Crueltie the curre, with crie of hounds will chaunt
But bandog bites, full sore before he barke
And craft the carle, still iuggles in the darke.
O charitie helpe.
Goodwill is scornd, and puts vp many a taunt
Pouertie is plagude, or ouermatcht with wiles
Plainnes complaines, but pride bids him auaunt
Crueltie the curre, with crie of hounds will chaunt
But bandog bites, full sore before he barke
And craft the carle, still iuggles in the darke.
O charitie helpe.
Friendship lookes pale, it hath an ague fit
Fauour is faint, and lame it cannot go
Finenes is false, and full of subtill wit
Faith giues faire words, and breaketh promis so
Constancie reeles, and staggers to and fro
Charitie must needs, reforme these follies strange
That by abuse, doth noble nature change.
O charitie helpe.
Fauour is faint, and lame it cannot go
Finenes is false, and full of subtill wit
Faith giues faire words, and breaketh promis so
Constancie reeles, and staggers to and fro
Charitie must needs, reforme these follies strange
That by abuse, doth noble nature change.
O charitie helpe.
Dutie doth die, to driue on diuelish drifts
Stubbornes striues, to wrangle for a strawe
Cunning long liues, by cusnage and by shifts
Disorder thriues, with neither rule nor lawe
People growes proud, without true feare or awe
If suffrance see, these prancks and hold his peace
Goodnes decaies, and badnes shall encrease.
O charitie helpe.
Stubbornes striues, to wrangle for a strawe
Cunning long liues, by cusnage and by shifts
Disorder thriues, with neither rule nor lawe
People growes proud, without true feare or awe
If suffrance see, these prancks and hold his peace
Goodnes decaies, and badnes shall encrease.
O charitie helpe.
If charitie be, the foode or fruite of faith
Where bloomes that tree, where doth those branches bud
True charitie sure, as wisest people saith
Is working still, and euer dooing good
Loue helpes our health, as life maintaines the blood
But where no helpe, nor succour we may finde
There charitie, is almost out of minde.
O charitie helpe.
Where bloomes that tree, where doth those branches bud
True charitie sure, as wisest people saith
Is working still, and euer dooing good
Loue helpes our health, as life maintaines the blood
But where no helpe, nor succour we may finde
There charitie, is almost out of minde.
O charitie helpe.
If through my faith, great mountaines I may moue
And can raise vp, to life the dead from graue
That withred faith, brings foorth no fruite of loue
It gaines no grace, what euer hope I haue
If charitie be, the thing which good men craue
God graunt that I, and all that heares the same
May sing that song, like Sidrack in the flame.
O charitie helpe.
And can raise vp, to life the dead from graue
That withred faith, brings foorth no fruite of loue
It gaines no grace, what euer hope I haue
If charitie be, the thing which good men craue
God graunt that I, and all that heares the same
May sing that song, like Sidrack in the flame.
O charitie helpe.
My humble hart, hopes now but for dispatch
Of life that wastes, away like candle blase
The clocke will stricke, in haste I heare the watch
That sounds the bell, whereon the people gase
My forces faile, my wits are in a mase
My corps consumes, my skin and bones doth shew
The soule is glad, the bodie hence shall go.
O charitie helpe.
Of life that wastes, away like candle blase
The clocke will stricke, in haste I heare the watch
That sounds the bell, whereon the people gase
My forces faile, my wits are in a mase
My corps consumes, my skin and bones doth shew
The soule is glad, the bodie hence shall go.
O charitie helpe.
Truth waited long, on your sweete sacred raigne
To catch some crums, that from your table fals
I sowe in teares, and reaps but bitter paine
That makes sicke soule, lie groning by the wals
Where hands a crosse, for helpe to heauen cals
So sucks vp sighes, and sorrow of the minde
As boyling brest, blowes fast for aire and winde.
O charitie helpe.
To catch some crums, that from your table fals
I sowe in teares, and reaps but bitter paine
That makes sicke soule, lie groning by the wals
Where hands a crosse, for helpe to heauen cals
So sucks vp sighes, and sorrow of the minde
As boyling brest, blowes fast for aire and winde.
O charitie helpe.
My muse doth muse, how labour lost his time
And seruice great, doth get so small regarde
I neuer thriude, by prose nor pleasant rime
Nor could in world, be any way prefard
An open signe, my thankles hap is hard
Yet numbers of, my verie name and race
By prince in court, were cald to woorthie place.
O charitie helpe.
And seruice great, doth get so small regarde
I neuer thriude, by prose nor pleasant rime
Nor could in world, be any way prefard
An open signe, my thankles hap is hard
Yet numbers of, my verie name and race
By prince in court, were cald to woorthie place.
O charitie helpe.
I am the Drone, that bees beats from the hiue
The vglie Oule, that kites and crowes do hate
The drawing oxe, that clounes do daily driue
The haples hinde, that hath the hatefull fate
(That weares all sutes, and seasons out of date)
If destny so, alots men such hard chance
They passe the pikes, that fortune will aduance.
O charitie helpe.
The vglie Oule, that kites and crowes do hate
The drawing oxe, that clounes do daily driue
The haples hinde, that hath the hatefull fate
(That weares all sutes, and seasons out of date)
If destny so, alots men such hard chance
They passe the pikes, that fortune will aduance.
O charitie helpe.
My passage is, like one that rides in post
Through water, fire, and all the hazards heere
And so draws home, a weary grisly ghost
Whose losse of youth, buies loathsome age too deere
Now coms account, of daies, of houres and yeere
My debts are stald, as oft bare bankrouts be
The graue paies all, and sets my bondage free.
O charitie helpe.
Through water, fire, and all the hazards heere
And so draws home, a weary grisly ghost
Whose losse of youth, buies loathsome age too deere
Now coms account, of daies, of houres and yeere
My debts are stald, as oft bare bankrouts be
The graue paies all, and sets my bondage free.
O charitie helpe.
The wo of wars, and pride and pompe of peace
The toile of world, and troubles here and there
And churlish checks, of fortune I release
Their heauie crosse, I can no longer beare
In peeces small, my scribbled scrowles I teare
So flinging verse, and bookes before your feet
I craue some crownes, to bie my shrouding sheet.
O charitie helpe.
The toile of world, and troubles here and there
And churlish checks, of fortune I release
Their heauie crosse, I can no longer beare
In peeces small, my scribbled scrowles I teare
So flinging verse, and bookes before your feet
I craue some crownes, to bie my shrouding sheet.
O charitie helpe.
All hope is gone, of any earthly hap
The axe is come, to giue the falling blow
Downe flies the bowes, the tree hath lost his sap
Vp to the clouds, like smoke the breath shall go
A sillie puffe, of winde ends all this wo
O grashous Queene, then some compassion take
Before my soule, this combrous caue forsake.
O charitie helpe.
The axe is come, to giue the falling blow
Downe flies the bowes, the tree hath lost his sap
Vp to the clouds, like smoke the breath shall go
A sillie puffe, of winde ends all this wo
O grashous Queene, then some compassion take
Before my soule, this combrous caue forsake.
O charitie helpe.
If nothing come, of seruice, sute and troth
True man must trudge, and leaue his natiue soile
Abroad the world, to see how fortune goth
In any place, where faith is free from foyle
Heere with vaine hope, my selfe and life I spoile
First lost my youth, so time and all is gone
Age sindes no friends, nor helpe of any one.
O charitie helpe.
True man must trudge, and leaue his natiue soile
Abroad the world, to see how fortune goth
In any place, where faith is free from foyle
Heere with vaine hope, my selfe and life I spoile
First lost my youth, so time and all is gone
Age sindes no friends, nor helpe of any one.
O charitie helpe.
Of charitie, a great discourse is made
Vnto an Earle, I honor in this land
It is not hid, nor sits in silent shade
Would God it were, in your faire blessed hand
There lies the notes, as thicke as is the sand
And there I sing, three parts in one at lest
And in sweete sound, true musicke is exprest.
O charitie helpe, or else adue the pen
For I must march, againe with marshall men.
Vnto an Earle, I honor in this land
It is not hid, nor sits in silent shade
Would God it were, in your faire blessed hand
There lies the notes, as thicke as is the sand
And there I sing, three parts in one at lest
And in sweete sound, true musicke is exprest.
O charitie helpe, or else adue the pen
For I must march, againe with marshall men.
FINIS.
| A Mvsicall Consort of Heauenly harmonie | |