The Poems of Henry Howard :: :: University of Virginia Library

Thie name, O Lord, howe greate is fownd before our sight!
Yt filles the earthe and spreades the ayre, the great workes of thie might.
For even unto thie powre the heavens have geven a place,
And closyd it above their heades a mightie lardge compace.
Thye prayse what clowde can hyde, but it will sheene agayne,

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Synce yonge and tender sucking babes have powre to shew it playne;
Whiche, in despight of those that wold this glorye hide,
Hast put into such infantes mowthes for to confounde their pryde.
Wherefore I shall beholde thy fygurde heaven so hye,
Whiche shews suche printes of dyvers formes within the clowdye skye
As hills and shapes of men, eke beastes of sondrie kynde,
Monstruous to our outward sight and fancyes of our mynde;
And eke the wanishe moone whiche sheenes by night also,
And eache one of the wondring sterres whiche after her doth goe;
And how to kepe their course, and whiche are those that stands,
Because they be thie wonderous workes and labours of thie hands.
But yet among all theise I aske, “What thing is man,
Whose tourne to serve in his poore neede this worke thow first began?
Or whate is Adames sonne that beares his fathers marke,
For whose delyte and compforte eke thow hase wrought all this warke?
I see thow myndest hym moch that doste rewarde hym so,
Beinge but earthe, to rule the earthe wheare on hymself doth go.
Ffrom aungells substaunce eke, thow madeste hym differ small,
Save one dothe chaunge his lif awhyle, the other not at all.
The sonne and moone also, thow madeste to geve hym light,
And eache one of the wandring sterrs to twynckle sparkles bright.
The ayre to geve hym breathe, the water for his health,
The earth to bring forth grayne and frute for to encrease his wealth.
And many mettalls to, for pleasure of the eye,
Whiche, in the hollow sowndyd grownd, in previe vaynes do lye.
The sheepe to geve his wool, to wrapp his boddie in,
And for suche other needefull thynges the oxe to spare his skynne.
The horsse, even at his will, to bear hym to and fro,
And as hym list eache other beaste to serve his turne also.
The fysshes of the sea lykewyse, to feede hym ofte,
And eke the birdes, whose feathers serve to make his sydes lye softe.
On whose head thow hast sett a crowne of glorye to,
To whome also thow didest appoint that honour shuld be do.
And thus thow madeste hym lord of all this worke of thyne:
Of man that goes; of beast that creapes, whose lookes dothe downe declyne;
Of ffysshe that swymme below; of ffowles that flyes on hye;
Of sea that fyndes the ayre his rayne; and of the land so drye.
And underneath his feet thow hast sett all this same,

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To make hym know and playne confesse that marveilous is thie name.
And Lord, whiche art our Lord, how merveilous is it fownd
The heavens doth shew, the earth doth tell, and eke the world so rownd.
Glorie therefore be geven to thee first, whiche are three,
And yet but one almightie God, in substance and degree.
As first it was when thow the darcke confused heape
Clottid in one, didst part in fowre, which elementes wee cleape,
And as the same is now, even heare within our tyme,
And ever shall here after be, when we be filth and slyme.”