Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt Edited by Kenneth Muir and Patricia Thomson |
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 | I. |
| II. |
| III. | III Penitential Psalms |
| CVIII. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
 | Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt |  |
98
III
Penitential Psalms
[The great Macedon that out of Perse chasyd]
The great Macedon that out of Perse chasyd
Darius of whose huge power all Asy Rang,
In the riche arke of Homers rymes he placyd,
Who fayned gestes of hethen Prynces sang;
Darius of whose huge power all Asy Rang,
In the riche arke of Homers rymes he placyd,
Who fayned gestes of hethen Prynces sang;
What holly grave, what wourthy sepulture
To Wyates Psalmes shuld Christians then purchase?
Wher he dothe paynte the lyvely faythe and pure,
The stedfast hope, the swete returne to grace
To Wyates Psalmes shuld Christians then purchase?
Wher he dothe paynte the lyvely faythe and pure,
The stedfast hope, the swete returne to grace
Of iust Dauyd by parfite penytence,
Where Rewlers may se in a myrrour clere
The bitter frewte of false concupicense,
How Jewry bought Vryas deathe full dere.
Where Rewlers may se in a myrrour clere
The bitter frewte of false concupicense,
How Jewry bought Vryas deathe full dere.
In Prynces hartes goddes scourge yprynted depe
Myght them awake out of their synfull slepe.
Myght them awake out of their synfull slepe.
HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY
CVIII
[Love to gyve law vnto his subiect hertes]
Love to gyve law vnto his subiect hertes
Stode in the Iyes off Barsabe the bryght;
And in a look anone hymsellff convertes,
Cruelly plesant byfore kyng David syght;
First dasd his Iyes and forder forth he stertes
With venemd breth as sofftly as he myght
Towcht his sensis and ouer ronnis his bonis
With creping fyre, sparplid for the nonis.
Stode in the Iyes off Barsabe the bryght;
And in a look anone hymsellff convertes,
Cruelly plesant byfore kyng David syght;
First dasd his Iyes and forder forth he stertes
With venemd breth as sofftly as he myght
Towcht his sensis and ouer ronnis his bonis
With creping fyre, sparplid for the nonis.
99
And when he saw that kendlid was the flame,
The moyst poyson in his hert he launcyd,
So that the sowle did tremble with the same;
And in this brawle as he stode and trauncyd,
Yelding vnto the figure and the frame
That those fayre Iyes had in his presens glauncid,
The forme that love had printyd in his brest
He honorth it as thing off thinges best.
The moyst poyson in his hert he launcyd,
So that the sowle did tremble with the same;
And in this brawle as he stode and trauncyd,
Yelding vnto the figure and the frame
That those fayre Iyes had in his presens glauncid,
The forme that love had printyd in his brest
He honorth it as thing off thinges best.
So that forgott the wisdome and fore-cast
(Wych wo to Remes when that thes kynges doth lakk)
Forgettyng eke goddes maiestie as fast,
Ye and his own, forthwith he doth to mak
Vrye to go in to the feld in hast,
Vrye I say, that was his Idolles mak,
Vnder pretence off certen victorye
For enmys swordes a redy pray to dye.
(Wych wo to Remes when that thes kynges doth lakk)
Forgettyng eke goddes maiestie as fast,
Ye and his own, forthwith he doth to mak
Vrye to go in to the feld in hast,
Vrye I say, that was his Idolles mak,
Vnder pretence off certen victorye
For enmys swordes a redy pray to dye.
Wherby he may enjoy her owt of dowte,
Whom more then god or hymsellff he myndyth;
And after he had browght this thing abowt
And off that lust posest hym sellff, he fyndyth
That hath and doth reuerse and clene torn owt
Kynges from kyndomes and cytes vndermyndyth:
He blyndyd thinkes this trayne so blynd and closse
To blynd all thing that nowght may it disclosse.
Whom more then god or hymsellff he myndyth;
And after he had browght this thing abowt
And off that lust posest hym sellff, he fyndyth
That hath and doth reuerse and clene torn owt
Kynges from kyndomes and cytes vndermyndyth:
He blyndyd thinkes this trayne so blynd and closse
To blynd all thing that nowght may it disclosse.
But Nathan hath spyd out this trecherye
With rufull chere, and settes afore his face
The gret offence, outrage and Iniurye,
That he hath done to god as in this Case,
By murder for to clok Adulterye;
He shewth hym ek from hevyn the thretes, alas,
So sternly sore, this prophet, this Nathan,
That all amasid this agid woofull man.
With rufull chere, and settes afore his face
The gret offence, outrage and Iniurye,
That he hath done to god as in this Case,
By murder for to clok Adulterye;
100
So sternly sore, this prophet, this Nathan,
That all amasid this agid woofull man.
Lyke hym that metes with horrour and with fere,
The hete doth strayte forsake the lyms cold,
The colour eke drowpith down from his chere,
So doth he fele his fyer maynifold.
His hete, his lust and plesur all in fere
Consume and wast, and strayt his crown of gold,
His purpirll pall, his sceptre he lettes fall,
And to the ground he throwth hym sellff withall.
The hete doth strayte forsake the lyms cold,
The colour eke drowpith down from his chere,
So doth he fele his fyer maynifold.
His hete, his lust and plesur all in fere
Consume and wast, and strayt his crown of gold,
His purpirll pall, his sceptre he lettes fall,
And to the ground he throwth hym sellff withall.
The pompous pryd of state and dygnite
Fortwith rabates repentant humblenes;
Thynner vyle cloth then clothyth pouerty
Does skantly hyde and clad his nakednes;
His faire hore berd of reverent gravite
With ruffeld here, knowyng his wykednes:
More lyke was he the sellff same repentance
Then statly prynce off worldly governance.
Fortwith rabates repentant humblenes;
Thynner vyle cloth then clothyth pouerty
Does skantly hyde and clad his nakednes;
His faire hore berd of reverent gravite
With ruffeld here, knowyng his wykednes:
More lyke was he the sellff same repentance
Then statly prynce off worldly governance.
His harpe he taketh in hand to be his guyde,
Wherewith he offerth his plaintes his sowle to save,
That from his hert distilles on euery syde,
Withdrawyng hym into a dark Cave
Within the grownd wherin he myght hym hyde,
Fleing the lyght, as in pryson or grave:
In wych as sone as David enterd had,
The dark horrour did mak his fawte a drad.
Wherewith he offerth his plaintes his sowle to save,
That from his hert distilles on euery syde,
Withdrawyng hym into a dark Cave
Within the grownd wherin he myght hym hyde,
Fleing the lyght, as in pryson or grave:
In wych as sone as David enterd had,
The dark horrour did mak his fawte a drad.
101
But he withowt prolonging or delay
Rof that that myght his lord, his god, apese,
Fallth on his knees, and with his harp, I say,
Afore his brest, frawtyd with disese
Off stormy syghes, his chere colourd lyk clay,
Dressyd vpryght, sekyng to conterpese
His song with syghes, and towching of the strynges
With tendre hert, lo thus to god he synges.
Rof that that myght his lord, his god, apese,
Fallth on his knees, and with his harp, I say,
Afore his brest, frawtyd with disese
Off stormy syghes, his chere colourd lyk clay,
Dressyd vpryght, sekyng to conterpese
His song with syghes, and towching of the strynges
With tendre hert, lo thus to god he synges.
Psalm 6.
Domine ne in furore
O lord, sins in my mowght thy myghty name
Sufferth it sellff, my lord to name and call,
Here hath my hert hope taken by the same,
That the repentance wych I have and shall
May at thi hand seke marcy as the thing,
Only confort of wrechid synners all.
Wherby I dare with humble bymonyng
By thy goodnes off the this thing require:
Chastyse me not for my deserving,
Acordyng to thy just conceyvid Ire.
O lord, I dred, and that I did not dred
I me repent, and euermore desyre
The, the to dred. I open here and spred
My fawte to the, but thou, for thi goodnes,
Mesure it not in largenes nor in bred,
Punish it not, as askyth the grettnes
Off thi furour, provokt by my offence.
Tempre, O lord, the harme of my excesse
With mendyng will, that I for recompense
Prepare agayne; and rather pite me,
For I ame wek and clene withowt defence:
More is the nede I have of remede,
For off the hole the lech takyth no cure.
The shepe that strayth the sheperd sekes to se:
I lord ame strayd: I, sek withowt recure,
Fele al my lyms, that have rebelld for fere,
Shake in dispayre, onles thou me assure.
Mye flesshe is troubled, my hart doth feare the speare;
That dread of death, of death that ever lastes,
Threateth of right and draweth neare and neare.
Moche more my sowle is trowbled by the blastes
Of theise assawltes, that come as thick as hayle,
Of worldlye vanytie, that temptacion castes
Agaynst the weyke bulwarke of the flesshe frayle:
Wheare in the sowle in great perplexitie
Ffeelethe the sensis, with them that assayle,
Conspyre, corrupte by vse and vanytie;
Whearby the wretche dothe to the shade resorte
Of hope in the, in this extreamytie.
But thow, O Lord, how long after this sorte
Fforbearest thow to see my myserye?
Suffer me yet, in hope of some comforte,
Ffeare and not feele that thow forgettest me.
Returne, O Lorde, O Lorde, I the beseche,
Vnto thie olde wonted benignitie.
Reduce, revyve my sowle: be thow the Leche,
And reconcyle the great hatred and stryfe
That it hath tane agaynste the flesshe, the wretche
That stirred hathe thie wrathe bye filthie life.
Se how my sowle doth freat it to the bones,
Inward remorce so sharp'the it like a knife;
That but thow helpp the caitife, that bemones
His great offence, it turnes anon to dust.
Heare hath thie mercye matter for the nones,
Ffor if thie rightwise hand that is so iuste
Suffer no Synne or stryke with dampnacion,
Thie infinyte marcye want nedes it must
Subjecte matter for his operacion:
For that in deth there is no memorie
Amonge the Dampnyd, nor yet no mencion
Of thie great name, grownd of all glorye.
Then if I dye and goe wheare as I feare
To thinck thearon, how shall thie great mercye
Sownde in my mowth vnto the worldes eare?
Ffor theare is none than can thee lawde and love,
Ffor that thow wilt no love among them theare.
Suffer my Cryes thie marcye for to move,
That wonted is a hundred yeares offence
In momente of repentaunce to remove.
How ofte have I calde vpp with diligence
This slowthful flesshe longe afore the daye,
Ffor to confesse his faulte and negligence,
That to the done for ought that I coold say
Hath still returnd to shrowde it self from colde;
Whearbye it suffers nowe for suche delaye.
By nightlye playntes in stede of pleasures olde
I wasshe my bed with teares contynuall,
To dull my sight that it be never bolde
To stirr mye hart agayne to suche a fall.
Thus drye I vpp among my foes in woe,
That with my fall do rise and grow with all,
And me bysett evin now where I am so
With secrett trapps to troble my penance.
Sum do present to my weping yes, lo,
The chere, the manere, beaute and countenance
Off her whose loke alas did mak me blynd;
Sum other offer to my remembrans
Those plesant wordes, now bitter to my mynd;
And sum shew me the powre of my armour,
Tryumph, and conquest, and to my hed assind
Dowble diademe: sum shew the favour
Of people frayle, palais, pompe and ryches:
To thes marmaydes and theyre baytes off errour
I stopp myn eris with help of thy goodnes;
And for I fele it comith alone of the
That to my hert thes foes have non acces
I dare them bid: ‘avoyd wreches and fle!
The lord hath hard the voyce off my complaint;
Your engins take no more effect in me.
The lord hath herd, I say, and sen me faynt
Vnder your hand, and pitith my distres.
He shall do mak my sensis by constraint
Obbey the rule that reson shall expres,
Wher the deceyte of yowr glosing baite
Made them vsurp a powre in all exces’.
Shamid be thei all that so ly in whaite
To compas me, by missing of theire pray!
Shame and rebuke redound to suche decayte!
Sodayne confusion's stroke withowt delay
Shall so defface theire craffty sugestion
That they to hurt my helthe no more assay,
Sins I, o Lord, remayne in thi protection.
Sufferth it sellff, my lord to name and call,
Here hath my hert hope taken by the same,
That the repentance wych I have and shall
May at thi hand seke marcy as the thing,
Only confort of wrechid synners all.
Wherby I dare with humble bymonyng
By thy goodnes off the this thing require:
Chastyse me not for my deserving,
Acordyng to thy just conceyvid Ire.
O lord, I dred, and that I did not dred
I me repent, and euermore desyre
The, the to dred. I open here and spred
My fawte to the, but thou, for thi goodnes,
Mesure it not in largenes nor in bred,
Punish it not, as askyth the grettnes
Off thi furour, provokt by my offence.
Tempre, O lord, the harme of my excesse
With mendyng will, that I for recompense
Prepare agayne; and rather pite me,
For I ame wek and clene withowt defence:
More is the nede I have of remede,
102
The shepe that strayth the sheperd sekes to se:
I lord ame strayd: I, sek withowt recure,
Fele al my lyms, that have rebelld for fere,
Shake in dispayre, onles thou me assure.
Mye flesshe is troubled, my hart doth feare the speare;
That dread of death, of death that ever lastes,
Threateth of right and draweth neare and neare.
Moche more my sowle is trowbled by the blastes
Of theise assawltes, that come as thick as hayle,
Of worldlye vanytie, that temptacion castes
Agaynst the weyke bulwarke of the flesshe frayle:
Wheare in the sowle in great perplexitie
Ffeelethe the sensis, with them that assayle,
Conspyre, corrupte by vse and vanytie;
Whearby the wretche dothe to the shade resorte
Of hope in the, in this extreamytie.
But thow, O Lord, how long after this sorte
Fforbearest thow to see my myserye?
Suffer me yet, in hope of some comforte,
Ffeare and not feele that thow forgettest me.
Returne, O Lorde, O Lorde, I the beseche,
Vnto thie olde wonted benignitie.
Reduce, revyve my sowle: be thow the Leche,
And reconcyle the great hatred and stryfe
That it hath tane agaynste the flesshe, the wretche
That stirred hathe thie wrathe bye filthie life.
Se how my sowle doth freat it to the bones,
Inward remorce so sharp'the it like a knife;
That but thow helpp the caitife, that bemones
His great offence, it turnes anon to dust.
Heare hath thie mercye matter for the nones,
Ffor if thie rightwise hand that is so iuste
Suffer no Synne or stryke with dampnacion,
Thie infinyte marcye want nedes it must
103
For that in deth there is no memorie
Amonge the Dampnyd, nor yet no mencion
Of thie great name, grownd of all glorye.
Then if I dye and goe wheare as I feare
To thinck thearon, how shall thie great mercye
Sownde in my mowth vnto the worldes eare?
Ffor theare is none than can thee lawde and love,
Ffor that thow wilt no love among them theare.
Suffer my Cryes thie marcye for to move,
That wonted is a hundred yeares offence
In momente of repentaunce to remove.
How ofte have I calde vpp with diligence
This slowthful flesshe longe afore the daye,
Ffor to confesse his faulte and negligence,
That to the done for ought that I coold say
Hath still returnd to shrowde it self from colde;
Whearbye it suffers nowe for suche delaye.
By nightlye playntes in stede of pleasures olde
I wasshe my bed with teares contynuall,
To dull my sight that it be never bolde
To stirr mye hart agayne to suche a fall.
Thus drye I vpp among my foes in woe,
That with my fall do rise and grow with all,
And me bysett evin now where I am so
With secrett trapps to troble my penance.
Sum do present to my weping yes, lo,
The chere, the manere, beaute and countenance
Off her whose loke alas did mak me blynd;
Sum other offer to my remembrans
Those plesant wordes, now bitter to my mynd;
And sum shew me the powre of my armour,
Tryumph, and conquest, and to my hed assind
Dowble diademe: sum shew the favour
104
To thes marmaydes and theyre baytes off errour
I stopp myn eris with help of thy goodnes;
And for I fele it comith alone of the
That to my hert thes foes have non acces
I dare them bid: ‘avoyd wreches and fle!
The lord hath hard the voyce off my complaint;
Your engins take no more effect in me.
The lord hath herd, I say, and sen me faynt
Vnder your hand, and pitith my distres.
He shall do mak my sensis by constraint
Obbey the rule that reson shall expres,
Wher the deceyte of yowr glosing baite
Made them vsurp a powre in all exces’.
Shamid be thei all that so ly in whaite
To compas me, by missing of theire pray!
Shame and rebuke redound to suche decayte!
Sodayne confusion's stroke withowt delay
Shall so defface theire craffty sugestion
That they to hurt my helthe no more assay,
Sins I, o Lord, remayne in thi protection.
Who so hathe sene the sikk in his fevour,
Affter treux taken with the hote or cold
And that the fitt is past off his faruour,
Draw faynting syghes, let hym, I say, behold
Sorowfull David affter his langour,
That with the terys that from his iyes down rold,
Pausid his plaint, and laid adown his harp,
Faythfull record of all his sorows sharp.
Affter treux taken with the hote or cold
And that the fitt is past off his faruour,
Draw faynting syghes, let hym, I say, behold
Sorowfull David affter his langour,
That with the terys that from his iyes down rold,
Pausid his plaint, and laid adown his harp,
Faythfull record of all his sorows sharp.
105
It semid now that of his fawt the horrour
Did mak aferd no more his hope of grace,
The thretes whereoff in horrible errour
Did hold his hert as in dispaire a space
Till he had willd to seke for his socour,
Hym selff accusing, beknowyng his cace,
Thinking so best his lord for to apese,
Eesd, not yet heled, he felith his disese.
Did mak aferd no more his hope of grace,
The thretes whereoff in horrible errour
Did hold his hert as in dispaire a space
Till he had willd to seke for his socour,
Hym selff accusing, beknowyng his cace,
Thinking so best his lord for to apese,
Eesd, not yet heled, he felith his disese.
Semyth horrible no more the dark Cave
That erst did make his fault for to tremble,
A place devout or refuge for to save
The socourles it rather doth resemble:
For who had sene so knele within the grave
The chieff pastor of thebrews assemble
Wold juge it made by terys of penitence
A sacrid place worthi off reuerence.
That erst did make his fault for to tremble,
A place devout or refuge for to save
The socourles it rather doth resemble:
For who had sene so knele within the grave
The chieff pastor of thebrews assemble
Wold juge it made by terys of penitence
A sacrid place worthi off reuerence.
With vapord iyes he lokyth here and there,
And when he hath a while hym sellff bethowght,
Gadryng his sprites that were dismayd for fere,
His harp agayne in to his hand he rowght.
Tunyng accord by Jugement of his ere:
His hertes botum for a sigh he sowght,
And there withall apon the holow tre
With straynid voyce agayne thus cryth he.
And when he hath a while hym sellff bethowght,
Gadryng his sprites that were dismayd for fere,
His harp agayne in to his hand he rowght.
Tunyng accord by Jugement of his ere:
His hertes botum for a sigh he sowght,
And there withall apon the holow tre
With straynid voyce agayne thus cryth he.
Psalm 32.
Beati quorum remisse sunt
Oh happy ar they that have forgiffnes gott
Off their offence (not by their penitence
As by meryt wych recompensyth not
Altho that yet pardone hath non offence
Withowte the same) but by the goodnes
Off hym that hath perfect intelligens
Off hert contrite, and coverth the grettnes
Off syn within a marcifull discharge.
And happy ar they that have the willfullness
Off lust restraynd, afore it went at large,
Provokyd by the dred of goddes furour
Wherby thei have not on theyre bakes the charge
Of othrs fawte to suffer the dolour;
For that thire fawte was neuer excecute
In opyn syght, example of errour;
And happi is he to whom god doth impute
No more his faut by knoleging his syn
But clensid now the lord doth hym repute,
As adder freshe new stryppid from his skin;
Nor in his sprite is owght vndiscoverd.
I for by cawse I hidd it still within,
Thynking by state in fawte to be preferd,
Do fynd by hyding of my fawte my harme,
As he that feels his helth to be hinderd
By secrete wound concelid from the charme
Of lechis cure that elles had had redresse,
And fele my bonis consume and wax vnfarme
By dayly rage roryng in excesse.
Thy hevy hand on me was so encrest
Both day and nyght and held my hert in presse
With priking thowghtes byreving me my rest,
That wytherd is my lustynes away
As somer hettes that hath the grene oprest;
Wherfore I did an othr way assay,
And sowght forthwith to opin in thi syght
My fawt, my fere, my filthines, I say,
And not to hide from the my gret vnryght.
I shall (quod I) agaynst my sellff confesse
Vnto the lord all my synfull plyght;
And thou forthwith didst washe the wikkednes
Off myn offence, of trowgth ryght thus it is.
Wherfor they that have tastid thi goodnes
At me shall take example as of this,
And pray and seke in tyme for tyme of grace.
Then shall the stormes and fluddes of harme him miss,
And hym to rech shall neuer have the space.
Thow art my refuge and only savegard
From the trobles that compasse me the place.
Such Joy as he that skapis his enmis ward
With losid bondes hath in his libertie,
Such Joy, my Joy, thow hast to me prepard,
That as the seman in his Jeopretie
By soden lyght perceyvid hath the port,
So by thy gret marcifull propertie
Within thi lok thus rede I my confort.
I shall the tech and gyve vnderstondyng,
And poynt to the what way thou shalt resort;
For thi adresse to kepe the from wandryng,
Myn iye shall tak the charge to be thy guyde.
I aske therto of the alone this thing:
Be not like horse or Mule that man doth ryde,
That not alone doth not his master know,
But for the good thou dost hym must be tyde
And brydeld, lest his guyd he bite or throw.
Oh dyuerse ar the chastysinges off syn!
In mete, in drynk, in breth that man doth blow,
In slepe, in wach, in fretyng styll within,
That neuer soffer rest vnto the mynd;
Filld with offence, that new and new begyn
With thowsand feris the hert to strayne and bynd.
But for all this he that in god doth trust
With mercy shall hym sellff defendid fynd.
Joy and reioyse, I say, ye that be just
In hym that makth and holdyth yow so still;
In hym your glory alwey set yow must,
All ye that be off vpright hert and will.
Off their offence (not by their penitence
As by meryt wych recompensyth not
Altho that yet pardone hath non offence
Withowte the same) but by the goodnes
106
Off hert contrite, and coverth the grettnes
Off syn within a marcifull discharge.
And happy ar they that have the willfullness
Off lust restraynd, afore it went at large,
Provokyd by the dred of goddes furour
Wherby thei have not on theyre bakes the charge
Of othrs fawte to suffer the dolour;
For that thire fawte was neuer excecute
In opyn syght, example of errour;
And happi is he to whom god doth impute
No more his faut by knoleging his syn
But clensid now the lord doth hym repute,
As adder freshe new stryppid from his skin;
Nor in his sprite is owght vndiscoverd.
I for by cawse I hidd it still within,
Thynking by state in fawte to be preferd,
Do fynd by hyding of my fawte my harme,
As he that feels his helth to be hinderd
By secrete wound concelid from the charme
Of lechis cure that elles had had redresse,
And fele my bonis consume and wax vnfarme
By dayly rage roryng in excesse.
Thy hevy hand on me was so encrest
Both day and nyght and held my hert in presse
With priking thowghtes byreving me my rest,
That wytherd is my lustynes away
As somer hettes that hath the grene oprest;
Wherfore I did an othr way assay,
And sowght forthwith to opin in thi syght
My fawt, my fere, my filthines, I say,
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I shall (quod I) agaynst my sellff confesse
Vnto the lord all my synfull plyght;
And thou forthwith didst washe the wikkednes
Off myn offence, of trowgth ryght thus it is.
Wherfor they that have tastid thi goodnes
At me shall take example as of this,
And pray and seke in tyme for tyme of grace.
Then shall the stormes and fluddes of harme him miss,
And hym to rech shall neuer have the space.
Thow art my refuge and only savegard
From the trobles that compasse me the place.
Such Joy as he that skapis his enmis ward
With losid bondes hath in his libertie,
Such Joy, my Joy, thow hast to me prepard,
That as the seman in his Jeopretie
By soden lyght perceyvid hath the port,
So by thy gret marcifull propertie
Within thi lok thus rede I my confort.
I shall the tech and gyve vnderstondyng,
And poynt to the what way thou shalt resort;
For thi adresse to kepe the from wandryng,
Myn iye shall tak the charge to be thy guyde.
I aske therto of the alone this thing:
Be not like horse or Mule that man doth ryde,
That not alone doth not his master know,
But for the good thou dost hym must be tyde
And brydeld, lest his guyd he bite or throw.
Oh dyuerse ar the chastysinges off syn!
In mete, in drynk, in breth that man doth blow,
In slepe, in wach, in fretyng styll within,
That neuer soffer rest vnto the mynd;
Filld with offence, that new and new begyn
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But for all this he that in god doth trust
With mercy shall hym sellff defendid fynd.
Joy and reioyse, I say, ye that be just
In hym that makth and holdyth yow so still;
In hym your glory alwey set yow must,
All ye that be off vpright hert and will.
This song endid, David did stint his voyce,
And in that while abowt he with his iye
Did seke the Cave with wiche withowten noyce
His sylence semid to argew and replye
Apon this pees, this pees that did reioyce
The sowle with mercy, that mercy so did Crye,
And fownd mercy at mercyes plentifull hand,
Neuer denid but where it was withstand.
And in that while abowt he with his iye
Did seke the Cave with wiche withowten noyce
His sylence semid to argew and replye
Apon this pees, this pees that did reioyce
The sowle with mercy, that mercy so did Crye,
And fownd mercy at mercyes plentifull hand,
Neuer denid but where it was withstand.
As the servant that in his masters face
Fyndyng pardon of his passid offence,
Consyderyng his grete goodnes and his grace,
Glad teris distills, as gladsome recompence;
Ryght so David that semid in that place
Marble ymage off singuler reuerence
Carffd in the rokk with Iyes and handes on hygh,
Made as by crafft to plaine, to sobbe, to sygh.
Fyndyng pardon of his passid offence,
Consyderyng his grete goodnes and his grace,
Glad teris distills, as gladsome recompence;
Ryght so David that semid in that place
Marble ymage off singuler reuerence
Carffd in the rokk with Iyes and handes on hygh,
Made as by crafft to plaine, to sobbe, to sygh.
This while a beme that bryght sonne forth sendes,
That sonne the wych was neuer clowd cowd hide,
Percyth the cave and on the harpe discendes,
Whose glauncyng light the cordes did ouerglyde,
And such luyster apon the harpe extendes
As lyght off lampe upon the gold clene tryde:
The torne wheroff into his Iyes did sterte,
Surprisd with Joye by penance off the herte.
That sonne the wych was neuer clowd cowd hide,
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Whose glauncyng light the cordes did ouerglyde,
And such luyster apon the harpe extendes
As lyght off lampe upon the gold clene tryde:
The torne wheroff into his Iyes did sterte,
Surprisd with Joye by penance off the herte.
He then Inflamd with farr more hote affect
Of god then he was erst of Bersabe,
His lifft fote did on the yerth erect,
And just therby remaynth the tothr kne;
To his lifft syde his wayght he doth direct.
Sure hope of helth, and harpe agayne takth he;
His hand, his tune, his mynd sowght his lay,
Wyche to the Lord with sobre voyce did say.
Of god then he was erst of Bersabe,
His lifft fote did on the yerth erect,
And just therby remaynth the tothr kne;
To his lifft syde his wayght he doth direct.
Sure hope of helth, and harpe agayne takth he;
His hand, his tune, his mynd sowght his lay,
Wyche to the Lord with sobre voyce did say.
Psalm 38.
Domine ne in furore tuo arguas me
O Lord, as I the have both prayd and pray,
(Altho in the be no alteration
But that we men, like as our sellffes we say,
Mesuryng thy Justice by our Mutation)
Chastice me not, o lord, in thi furour,
Nor me correct in wrathfull castigation.
Ffor that thi arrows off fere, off terrour
Of sword, of sekenes, off famine and fyre
Stikkes diepe in me. I, lo, from myn errour
Ame plongid vp, as horse owt of the myre
With strok off spurr: such is thi hand on me,
That in my fleshe for terrour of thy yre
Is not on poynt of ferme stabilite,
Nor in my bonis there is no stedfastnes:
Such is my drede of mutabilite,
Ffor that I know my frailefull wykednes.
For why? my sinns above my hed ar bownd,
Like hevi wheyght that doth my force oppresse
Vnder the wych I stopp and bowe to grownd,
As whilow plant haled by vyolence;
And off my fleshe ech not well curyd wound,
That festred is by foly and neclegens,
By secrete lust hath ranklyd vnder skyn,
Not duly Curyd by my penitens.
Perceyving thus the tyranny off sin,
That with his wheit hath humblid and deprest
My pryd, by gruging off the worme within
That neuer dyth, I lyve withowten rest.
So ar myn entrayles infect with fervent sore,
Fedyng the harme that hath my welth oprest,
That in my fleshe is lefft no helth therfore.
So wondrus gret hath bene my vexation
That it hath forst my hart to crye and rore.
O lord thow knowst the inward contemplation
Off my desire, thou knowst my syghes and plaintes
Thow knowst the teres of my lamentation
Can not expresse my hertes inward restraintes.
My hart pantyth, my force I fele it quaile,
My syght, myn Iyes, my lok dekays and fayntes.
And when myn enmys did me most assayle,
My frendes most sure, wherein I sett most trust,
Myn own vertus, sonest then did ffaile,
And stoud apart, reson and witt vniust,
As kyn vnkynd were fardest gone at nede.
So had thei place theire venim owt to thrust
That sowght my deth by nowghty word and dede:
Theire tonges reproche, theire wittes did fraude aplye,
And I like deffh and domme forth my way yede,
Lyk one that heris not, nor hath to replye
One word agayne, knowyng that from thi hand
Thes thinges procede and thow o lord shalt supplye
My trust in the wherein I stikk and stand.
Yet have I had gret cawse to dred and fere
That thou woldst gyve my foos the ouerhand;
Ffor in my ffall they shewd suche plesant chere,
And therwithall I alway in the lashe
Abyd the strok: and with me euery where
I bere my fawte, that gretly doth abashe
My dowlfull chere; ffor I my fawt confesse,
And my desert doth all my conffort dashe.
In the mene while myn Enmys saffe encresse
And my provokars herby do augement,
That withowt cawse to hurt me do not cesse.
In evill for good agaynst me they be bent,
And hinder shall my good pursuyte off grace.
Lo now, my god, that seist my hole Intent,
My lord, I ame, thow knowst well, in what case.
Fforsak me not, be not farre from me gone:
Hast to my help, hast, lord, and hast apace,
O lord, the lord off all my helth alone.
(Altho in the be no alteration
But that we men, like as our sellffes we say,
Mesuryng thy Justice by our Mutation)
Chastice me not, o lord, in thi furour,
Nor me correct in wrathfull castigation.
Ffor that thi arrows off fere, off terrour
Of sword, of sekenes, off famine and fyre
Stikkes diepe in me. I, lo, from myn errour
Ame plongid vp, as horse owt of the myre
With strok off spurr: such is thi hand on me,
That in my fleshe for terrour of thy yre
Is not on poynt of ferme stabilite,
110
Such is my drede of mutabilite,
Ffor that I know my frailefull wykednes.
For why? my sinns above my hed ar bownd,
Like hevi wheyght that doth my force oppresse
Vnder the wych I stopp and bowe to grownd,
As whilow plant haled by vyolence;
And off my fleshe ech not well curyd wound,
That festred is by foly and neclegens,
By secrete lust hath ranklyd vnder skyn,
Not duly Curyd by my penitens.
Perceyving thus the tyranny off sin,
That with his wheit hath humblid and deprest
My pryd, by gruging off the worme within
That neuer dyth, I lyve withowten rest.
So ar myn entrayles infect with fervent sore,
Fedyng the harme that hath my welth oprest,
That in my fleshe is lefft no helth therfore.
So wondrus gret hath bene my vexation
That it hath forst my hart to crye and rore.
O lord thow knowst the inward contemplation
Off my desire, thou knowst my syghes and plaintes
Thow knowst the teres of my lamentation
Can not expresse my hertes inward restraintes.
My hart pantyth, my force I fele it quaile,
My syght, myn Iyes, my lok dekays and fayntes.
And when myn enmys did me most assayle,
My frendes most sure, wherein I sett most trust,
Myn own vertus, sonest then did ffaile,
And stoud apart, reson and witt vniust,
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So had thei place theire venim owt to thrust
That sowght my deth by nowghty word and dede:
Theire tonges reproche, theire wittes did fraude aplye,
And I like deffh and domme forth my way yede,
Lyk one that heris not, nor hath to replye
One word agayne, knowyng that from thi hand
Thes thinges procede and thow o lord shalt supplye
My trust in the wherein I stikk and stand.
Yet have I had gret cawse to dred and fere
That thou woldst gyve my foos the ouerhand;
Ffor in my ffall they shewd suche plesant chere,
And therwithall I alway in the lashe
Abyd the strok: and with me euery where
I bere my fawte, that gretly doth abashe
My dowlfull chere; ffor I my fawt confesse,
And my desert doth all my conffort dashe.
In the mene while myn Enmys saffe encresse
And my provokars herby do augement,
That withowt cawse to hurt me do not cesse.
In evill for good agaynst me they be bent,
And hinder shall my good pursuyte off grace.
Lo now, my god, that seist my hole Intent,
My lord, I ame, thow knowst well, in what case.
Fforsak me not, be not farre from me gone:
Hast to my help, hast, lord, and hast apace,
O lord, the lord off all my helth alone.
Lik as the pilgryme that in a long way
Fayntyng for hete, provokyd by some wind
In some fresh shaade lith downe at mydes off day,
So doth off David the weryd voyce and mynd
Tak breth off syghes when he had song this lay,
Vnder such shaad as sorow hath assynd;
And as the tone still myndes his viage end,
So doth the tother to mercy still pretend.
Fayntyng for hete, provokyd by some wind
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So doth off David the weryd voyce and mynd
Tak breth off syghes when he had song this lay,
Vnder such shaad as sorow hath assynd;
And as the tone still myndes his viage end,
So doth the tother to mercy still pretend.
On sonour cordes his fingers he extendes,
Withowt heryng or Jugement off the sownd;
Down from his Iyes a storme off terys discendes,
Withowt feling, that trykill on the grownd,
As he that bledes in baigne ryght so intendes
Th'altryd sensis to that that thei ar bownd;
But syght and wepe he can non othr thing,
And lok vp still vnto the hevins kyng.
Withowt heryng or Jugement off the sownd;
Down from his Iyes a storme off terys discendes,
Withowt feling, that trykill on the grownd,
As he that bledes in baigne ryght so intendes
Th'altryd sensis to that that thei ar bownd;
But syght and wepe he can non othr thing,
And lok vp still vnto the hevins kyng.
But who had bene withowt the Cavis mowth,
And herd the terys and syghes that he did strayne,
He wold have sworne there had owt off the sowth
A lewk warme wynd browght forth a smoky rayne;
But that so close the Cave was and vnkowth
That none but god was record off his payne:
Elles had the wynd blowne in all Israelles erys
The wofull plaint and off theire kyng the terys.
And herd the terys and syghes that he did strayne,
He wold have sworne there had owt off the sowth
A lewk warme wynd browght forth a smoky rayne;
But that so close the Cave was and vnkowth
That none but god was record off his payne:
Elles had the wynd blowne in all Israelles erys
The wofull plaint and off theire kyng the terys.
Off wych some part, when he vpp suppyd hade,
Like as he whom his owne thowght affrays,
He torns his look; hym semith that the shade
Off his offence agayne his force assays
By violence dispaire on hym to lade;
Stertyng like hym whom sodeyne fere dismays,
His voyce he strains, and from his hert owt brynges
This song that I not wyther he crys or singes.
Like as he whom his owne thowght affrays,
He torns his look; hym semith that the shade
Off his offence agayne his force assays
By violence dispaire on hym to lade;
113
His voyce he strains, and from his hert owt brynges
This song that I not wyther he crys or singes.
Psalm 51.
Miserere mei domine
Rew on me, lord, for thy goodnes and grace,
That off thy nature art so bountefull,
Ffor that goodnes that in the world doth brace
Repugnant natures in quiete wonderfull,
And for thi mercys nomber withowt end
In hevin and yerth perceyvid so plentefull
That ouer all they do them sellffes extend:
Ffor those marcys much more then man can synn
Do way my synns that so thy grace offend.
Agayne washe me but washe me well within,
And from my synn that thus makth me affrayd
Make thou me clene as ay thy wont hath byn;
Ffor vnto the no nombre can be layd
For to prescrybe remissions off offence
In hertes retornd, as thow thy sellff hast sayd.
And I beknow my ffawt, my neclegence,
And in my syght my synn is fixid fast,
Theroff to have more perfett penitence.
To the alone, to the have I trespast,
Ffor none can mesure my fawte but thou alone;
For in thy syght I have not bene agast
For to offend, juging thi syght as none,
So that my fawt were hid from syght of man,
Thy maiestye so from my mynd was gone:
This know I and repent; pardon thow than,
Wherby thow shalt kepe still thi word stable,
Thy justice pure and clene; by cawse that whan
I pardond ame, then forthwith Justly able,
Just I ame jugd by justice off thy grace.
Ffor I my sellff, lo thing most vnstable,
Fformd in offence, conceyvid in like case,
Ame nowght but synn from my natyvite;
Be not this sayd for my excuse, alase,
But off thy help to shew necessite;
Ffor lo thou loves the trowgh off inward hert,
Wich yet doth lyve in my fydelite;
Tho I have fallen by fraylte ouerthwart,
Ffor willfull malice led me not the way,
So much as hath the flesh drawn me apart.
Wherfore, o lord, as thow hast done alway,
Tech me the hydden wisdome off thy lore,
Sins that my fayth doth not yet dekay;
And as the Juyz to hele the liepre sore
With hysope clense, clense me, and I ame clene.
Thow shalt me wash, and more then snow therfore
I shall be whight, how fowle my fawt hath bene.
Thow off my helth shalt gladsome tydynges bryng;
When from above remission shall be sene
Descend on yerth, then shall for Joye vp spryng
The bonis that were afore consumd to dust.
Looke not, o lord, apon myn offendyng,
But do a way my dedes that ar vnjust.
Make a clene hert in the myddes off my brest
With spryte vpryght, voydyd from fylthye lust.
Ffrom thyn Iys cure, cast me not in vnrest,
Nor take from me thy spryte of holynesse.
Rendre to me joye off thy help and rest;
My will conferme with spryte off stedfastnesse:
And by this shall thes goodly thinges ensue.
Sinners I shall in to thy ways adresse:
They shall retorne to the and thy grace sue.
My tong shall prayse thy Justification,
My mowgh shall spred thy gloryus praysis true.
But off thi sellff, o god, this operation
It must proced, by purging me from blood,
Among the just that I may have relation;
And off thy lawdes for to let owt the flood;
Thow must, o lord, my lypps furst vnlose:
Ffor if thou hadst estemid plesant good
The owtward dedes that owtward men disclose,
I wold have offerd vnto the sacryfice.
But thou delyghtes not in no such glose
Off owtward dede, as men dreme and devyse.
The sacryfice that the lord lykyth most
Is spryte contrite: low hert in humble wyse
Thow dost accept, o god, for plesant host.
Make Syon, lord, accordyng to thy will,
Inward Syon, the Syon of the ghost:
Off hertes Hierusalem strength the walles still.
Then shalt thou take for good these vttward dedes,
As sacryfice thy plesure to fullfyll.
Off the alone thus all our good procedes.
That off thy nature art so bountefull,
Ffor that goodnes that in the world doth brace
Repugnant natures in quiete wonderfull,
And for thi mercys nomber withowt end
In hevin and yerth perceyvid so plentefull
That ouer all they do them sellffes extend:
Ffor those marcys much more then man can synn
Do way my synns that so thy grace offend.
Agayne washe me but washe me well within,
And from my synn that thus makth me affrayd
Make thou me clene as ay thy wont hath byn;
Ffor vnto the no nombre can be layd
For to prescrybe remissions off offence
In hertes retornd, as thow thy sellff hast sayd.
And I beknow my ffawt, my neclegence,
And in my syght my synn is fixid fast,
Theroff to have more perfett penitence.
To the alone, to the have I trespast,
Ffor none can mesure my fawte but thou alone;
For in thy syght I have not bene agast
For to offend, juging thi syght as none,
So that my fawt were hid from syght of man,
Thy maiestye so from my mynd was gone:
This know I and repent; pardon thow than,
Wherby thow shalt kepe still thi word stable,
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I pardond ame, then forthwith Justly able,
Just I ame jugd by justice off thy grace.
Ffor I my sellff, lo thing most vnstable,
Fformd in offence, conceyvid in like case,
Ame nowght but synn from my natyvite;
Be not this sayd for my excuse, alase,
But off thy help to shew necessite;
Ffor lo thou loves the trowgh off inward hert,
Wich yet doth lyve in my fydelite;
Tho I have fallen by fraylte ouerthwart,
Ffor willfull malice led me not the way,
So much as hath the flesh drawn me apart.
Wherfore, o lord, as thow hast done alway,
Tech me the hydden wisdome off thy lore,
Sins that my fayth doth not yet dekay;
And as the Juyz to hele the liepre sore
With hysope clense, clense me, and I ame clene.
Thow shalt me wash, and more then snow therfore
I shall be whight, how fowle my fawt hath bene.
Thow off my helth shalt gladsome tydynges bryng;
When from above remission shall be sene
Descend on yerth, then shall for Joye vp spryng
The bonis that were afore consumd to dust.
Looke not, o lord, apon myn offendyng,
But do a way my dedes that ar vnjust.
Make a clene hert in the myddes off my brest
With spryte vpryght, voydyd from fylthye lust.
Ffrom thyn Iys cure, cast me not in vnrest,
Nor take from me thy spryte of holynesse.
Rendre to me joye off thy help and rest;
115
And by this shall thes goodly thinges ensue.
Sinners I shall in to thy ways adresse:
They shall retorne to the and thy grace sue.
My tong shall prayse thy Justification,
My mowgh shall spred thy gloryus praysis true.
But off thi sellff, o god, this operation
It must proced, by purging me from blood,
Among the just that I may have relation;
And off thy lawdes for to let owt the flood;
Thow must, o lord, my lypps furst vnlose:
Ffor if thou hadst estemid plesant good
The owtward dedes that owtward men disclose,
I wold have offerd vnto the sacryfice.
But thou delyghtes not in no such glose
Off owtward dede, as men dreme and devyse.
The sacryfice that the lord lykyth most
Is spryte contrite: low hert in humble wyse
Thow dost accept, o god, for plesant host.
Make Syon, lord, accordyng to thy will,
Inward Syon, the Syon of the ghost:
Off hertes Hierusalem strength the walles still.
Then shalt thou take for good these vttward dedes,
As sacryfice thy plesure to fullfyll.
Off the alone thus all our good procedes.
Off diepe secretes that David here did sing,
Off mercy, off fayth, off frailte, off grace,
Off goddes goodnes and off Justyfying,
The grettnes dyd so astonne hymselff a space,
As who myght say who hath exprest this thing?
I synner, I, what have I sayd alas?
That goddes goodnes wold within my song entrete,
Let me agayne considre and repete.
Off mercy, off fayth, off frailte, off grace,
Off goddes goodnes and off Justyfying,
The grettnes dyd so astonne hymselff a space,
As who myght say who hath exprest this thing?
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That goddes goodnes wold within my song entrete,
Let me agayne considre and repete.
And so he doth, but not exprest by word:
But in his hert he tornith and paysith
Ech word that erst his lypps might forth aford.
He poyntes, he pawsith, he wonders, he praysyth
The marcy that hydes off justice the swourd,
The justice that so his promesse complysyth,
For his wordes sake to worthilesse desert,
That gratis his graces to men doth depert.
But in his hert he tornith and paysith
Ech word that erst his lypps might forth aford.
He poyntes, he pawsith, he wonders, he praysyth
The marcy that hydes off justice the swourd,
The justice that so his promesse complysyth,
For his wordes sake to worthilesse desert,
That gratis his graces to men doth depert.
Here hath he confort when he doth mesure
Mesureles marcys to mesureles fawte,
To prodigall sinners Infinite tresure,
Tresure termeles that neuer shall defawte.
Ye, when that sinn shall fayle and may not dure,
Mercy shal reygne, gaine whome shall no assaute
Off hell prevaile, by whome, lo, at this day,
Off hevin gattes Remission is the kay.
Mesureles marcys to mesureles fawte,
To prodigall sinners Infinite tresure,
Tresure termeles that neuer shall defawte.
Ye, when that sinn shall fayle and may not dure,
Mercy shal reygne, gaine whome shall no assaute
Off hell prevaile, by whome, lo, at this day,
Off hevin gattes Remission is the kay.
And when David hath ponderd well and tryd,
And seith hym sellff not vtterly deprivid
From lyght of grace that dirk of sinn dyd hyde,
He fyndes hys hope muche therewith revivid;
He dare Importune the lord on euery syde,
(For he knowth well to mercy is ascrybid
Respectles labour) Importune, crye and call:
And thus begynth his song therwithall.
And seith hym sellff not vtterly deprivid
From lyght of grace that dirk of sinn dyd hyde,
He fyndes hys hope muche therewith revivid;
He dare Importune the lord on euery syde,
(For he knowth well to mercy is ascrybid
Respectles labour) Importune, crye and call:
And thus begynth his song therwithall.
117
Psalm 102.
Domine exaudi orationem meam
Lord here my prayre and let my crye passe
Vnto the lord withowt impediment.
Do not from me torne thy mercyfull fase,
Vnto my sellff leving my government.
In tyme off troble and aduersitye
Inclyne to me thyn ere and thyn Intent;
And when I call help my necessitye;
Redely graunt th'effect off my desyre.
Thes bold demaundes do plese thy maiestye,
And ek my Case such hast doth well require.
Ffor like as smok my days bene past awaye,
My bonis dryd vp as forneis with the fyre.
My hert, my mynd is wytherd vp like haye,
By cawse I have forgot to take my brede,
My brede off lyff, the word off trowthe, I say.
And ffor my plaintfull syghes, and my drede,
My bonis, my strenght, my very force of mynde
Cleved to the flesh, and from thi spryte were flede,
As dispairate thy mercy for to fynd.
So made I me the solaine pelycane,
And lyke the owle that fleith by propre kynd
Lyght of the day and hath her sellff betane
To ruyne lyff owt of all companye.
With waker care that with this wo bygane,
Lik the sparow was I solytarye,
That sittes alone vnder the howsis effes.
This while my foes conspird continually,
And did provoke the harme off my dises.
Wherfor lik ashes my bred did me savour,
Of thi just word the tast myght not me ples;
Wherfore my drynk I temperd with lycour
Off weping teris that from myn Iyes do rayne.
By cause I know the wrath off thy furour,
Provokt by ryght had off my pride disdayne;
For thou didst lyfft me vp to throw me downe,
To tech me how to know my sellff agayne;
Wherby I knew that helples I shold drowne.
My days lik shadow declyne and I do drye;
And the for euer eternite doth crowne;
World withowt end doth last thy memorye.
Ffor this frailte that yokyth all manekynd,
Thou shallt awake, and rue this misery,
Rue on Syon, Syon that as I ffynd
Is the peple that lyve vnder thy law;
For now is tyme, the tyme at hand assynd,
The tyme so long that doth thy servantes draw
In gret desyre to se that plesant day,
Day off redeming Syon ffrom sins Aw.
Ffor they have ruth to se in such dekay
In dust and stones this wrechid Syon lowr.
Then the gentilles shall dred thy name alway;
All erthly kinges thy glory shall honour,
Then, when thi grace this Syon thus redemith,
When thus thou hast declard thy myghty powre.
The lord his servauntes wishis so estemith
That he hym tornth vnto the poores request.
To our discent thys to be wrytten semith,
Off all confortes as consolation best;
And thei that then shalbe regenerate
Shall praise the lord therfore both most and lest.
Ffor he hath lokt from the heyght off his astate,
The lord from hevyn in yerth hath lokt on vs,
To here the mone off them that ar algate
In fowle bondage, to lose and to discus
The sonns off deth owt from theire dedly bond,
To gyve therby occasion gracius,
In this Syon hys holy name to stond
And in Hierusalem hys laudes lastyng ay.
When in one chirche the peple off the lond
And remes bene gaderd to serve, to lawd, to pray
The lord aboue so just and mercyfull.
But to this samble runnyng in the way
My strenght faylyth to rech it at the full.
He hath abrigd my days, they may not dure,
To se that terme, that terme so wonderfull,
Altho I have with herty will and Cure
Prayd to the lord; take me not lord away
In myddes off my yeres, tho thyn euer sure
Remayne eterne, whom tyme can not dekay.
Thow wrowghtst the yerth, thy handes thevyns did mak;
Thei shall peryshe and thou shalt last alway,
And althinges age shall were and ouertake
Like cloth, and thou shalt chainge them lik aparell,
Tourne, and translate, and thei in worth it tak.
But thou thy sellff the sellff remaynist well
That thou wast erst, and shalt thi yeres extend.
Then sins to this there may nothing rebell,
The gretest confort that I can pretend
Is that the childerne off thy servantes dere
That in thy word ar gott, shall withowt end
Byfore thy face be stablisht all in fere.
Vnto the lord withowt impediment.
Do not from me torne thy mercyfull fase,
Vnto my sellff leving my government.
In tyme off troble and aduersitye
Inclyne to me thyn ere and thyn Intent;
And when I call help my necessitye;
Redely graunt th'effect off my desyre.
Thes bold demaundes do plese thy maiestye,
And ek my Case such hast doth well require.
Ffor like as smok my days bene past awaye,
My bonis dryd vp as forneis with the fyre.
My hert, my mynd is wytherd vp like haye,
By cawse I have forgot to take my brede,
My brede off lyff, the word off trowthe, I say.
And ffor my plaintfull syghes, and my drede,
My bonis, my strenght, my very force of mynde
Cleved to the flesh, and from thi spryte were flede,
As dispairate thy mercy for to fynd.
So made I me the solaine pelycane,
And lyke the owle that fleith by propre kynd
Lyght of the day and hath her sellff betane
To ruyne lyff owt of all companye.
With waker care that with this wo bygane,
Lik the sparow was I solytarye,
That sittes alone vnder the howsis effes.
This while my foes conspird continually,
And did provoke the harme off my dises.
Wherfor lik ashes my bred did me savour,
Of thi just word the tast myght not me ples;
118
Off weping teris that from myn Iyes do rayne.
By cause I know the wrath off thy furour,
Provokt by ryght had off my pride disdayne;
For thou didst lyfft me vp to throw me downe,
To tech me how to know my sellff agayne;
Wherby I knew that helples I shold drowne.
My days lik shadow declyne and I do drye;
And the for euer eternite doth crowne;
World withowt end doth last thy memorye.
Ffor this frailte that yokyth all manekynd,
Thou shallt awake, and rue this misery,
Rue on Syon, Syon that as I ffynd
Is the peple that lyve vnder thy law;
For now is tyme, the tyme at hand assynd,
The tyme so long that doth thy servantes draw
In gret desyre to se that plesant day,
Day off redeming Syon ffrom sins Aw.
Ffor they have ruth to se in such dekay
In dust and stones this wrechid Syon lowr.
Then the gentilles shall dred thy name alway;
All erthly kinges thy glory shall honour,
Then, when thi grace this Syon thus redemith,
When thus thou hast declard thy myghty powre.
The lord his servauntes wishis so estemith
That he hym tornth vnto the poores request.
To our discent thys to be wrytten semith,
Off all confortes as consolation best;
And thei that then shalbe regenerate
Shall praise the lord therfore both most and lest.
Ffor he hath lokt from the heyght off his astate,
119
To here the mone off them that ar algate
In fowle bondage, to lose and to discus
The sonns off deth owt from theire dedly bond,
To gyve therby occasion gracius,
In this Syon hys holy name to stond
And in Hierusalem hys laudes lastyng ay.
When in one chirche the peple off the lond
And remes bene gaderd to serve, to lawd, to pray
The lord aboue so just and mercyfull.
But to this samble runnyng in the way
My strenght faylyth to rech it at the full.
He hath abrigd my days, they may not dure,
To se that terme, that terme so wonderfull,
Altho I have with herty will and Cure
Prayd to the lord; take me not lord away
In myddes off my yeres, tho thyn euer sure
Remayne eterne, whom tyme can not dekay.
Thow wrowghtst the yerth, thy handes thevyns did mak;
Thei shall peryshe and thou shalt last alway,
And althinges age shall were and ouertake
Like cloth, and thou shalt chainge them lik aparell,
Tourne, and translate, and thei in worth it tak.
But thou thy sellff the sellff remaynist well
That thou wast erst, and shalt thi yeres extend.
Then sins to this there may nothing rebell,
The gretest confort that I can pretend
Is that the childerne off thy servantes dere
That in thy word ar gott, shall withowt end
Byfore thy face be stablisht all in fere.
120
When David had perceyvid in his brest
The sprite off god retournd that was exild,
By cause he knew he hath alone exprest
Thes grete thinges that greter spryte compilde,
As shalme or pype letes owt the sownd inprest
By musikes art forgid to fore and fyld,
I say when David had percyvid this
The sprite of confort in hym revivid is.
The sprite off god retournd that was exild,
By cause he knew he hath alone exprest
Thes grete thinges that greter spryte compilde,
As shalme or pype letes owt the sownd inprest
By musikes art forgid to fore and fyld,
I say when David had percyvid this
The sprite of confort in hym revivid is.
Ffor therapon he makyth argument
Off reconsiling vnto the lordes grace,
Altho sometyme to prophecy have lent
Both brut bestes and wikkyd hertes a place;
But our David jugith in his intent
Hym sellff by penance clene owt off this cace,
Wherby he hath remission off offence,
And gynnyth to Alow his payne and penitence.
Off reconsiling vnto the lordes grace,
Altho sometyme to prophecy have lent
Both brut bestes and wikkyd hertes a place;
But our David jugith in his intent
Hym sellff by penance clene owt off this cace,
Wherby he hath remission off offence,
And gynnyth to Alow his payne and penitence.
But when he weyth the fawt and recompense
He damth his dede and fyndyth playne
A twene them to no whitt equivalence,
Wherby he takes all owtward dede in vayne
To bere the name off ryghtfull penitence;
Wich is alone the hert retornd agayne
And sore contryt that doth his fawt bymone,
And owtward dede the sygne or fruyt alone.
He damth his dede and fyndyth playne
A twene them to no whitt equivalence,
Wherby he takes all owtward dede in vayne
To bere the name off ryghtfull penitence;
Wich is alone the hert retornd agayne
And sore contryt that doth his fawt bymone,
And owtward dede the sygne or fruyt alone.
With this he doth deffend the slye assault
Off vayne alowance off his voyde desert,
And all the glory off his forgyven fault
To good alone he doth it hole convertt.
His owne merytt he fyndyth in deffault;
And whilst he ponderd thes thinges in his hert,
His knee, his arme, his hand, susteind his chyn,
When he his song agayne thus did begynn.
Off vayne alowance off his voyde desert,
And all the glory off his forgyven fault
To good alone he doth it hole convertt.
121
And whilst he ponderd thes thinges in his hert,
His knee, his arme, his hand, susteind his chyn,
When he his song agayne thus did begynn.
Psalm 130.
De profundis clamavi
Ffrom depth off sinn and from a diepe dispaire,
Ffrom depth off deth, from depth off hertes sorow,
From this diepe Cave off darknes diepe repayre,
The have I cald o lord to be my borow;
Thow in my voyce o lord perceyve and here
My hert, my hope, my plaint, my ouerthrow,
My will to ryse, and let by graunt apere
That to my voyce, thin eres do well entend.
No place so farr that to the it is not nere;
No depth so diepe that thou ne maist extend
Thin ere therto; here then my wofull plaint.
Ffor, lord, if thou do observe what men offend
And putt thi natyff mercy in restraint,
If just exaction demaund recompense,
Who may endure o lord? who shall not faynt
At such acompt? dred, and not reuerence,
Shold so raine large. But thou sekes rather love,
Ffor in thi hand is mercys resedence,
By hope wheroff thou dost our hertes move.
I in the, lord, have set my confydence;
My sowle such trust doth euermore approve
Thi holly word off eterne excellence,
Thi mercys promesse, that is alway just,
Have bene my stay, my piller and pretence;
My sowle in god hath more desyrus trust
Then hath the wachman lokyng for the day,
By the releffe to quenche of slepe the thrust.
Let Israell trust vnto the lord alway,
Ffor grace and favour arn his propertie;
Plenteus rannzome shall com with hym, I say,
And shall redeme all our iniquitie.
Ffrom depth off deth, from depth off hertes sorow,
From this diepe Cave off darknes diepe repayre,
The have I cald o lord to be my borow;
Thow in my voyce o lord perceyve and here
My hert, my hope, my plaint, my ouerthrow,
My will to ryse, and let by graunt apere
That to my voyce, thin eres do well entend.
No place so farr that to the it is not nere;
No depth so diepe that thou ne maist extend
Thin ere therto; here then my wofull plaint.
Ffor, lord, if thou do observe what men offend
And putt thi natyff mercy in restraint,
If just exaction demaund recompense,
Who may endure o lord? who shall not faynt
At such acompt? dred, and not reuerence,
Shold so raine large. But thou sekes rather love,
Ffor in thi hand is mercys resedence,
By hope wheroff thou dost our hertes move.
I in the, lord, have set my confydence;
My sowle such trust doth euermore approve
Thi holly word off eterne excellence,
Thi mercys promesse, that is alway just,
Have bene my stay, my piller and pretence;
122
Then hath the wachman lokyng for the day,
By the releffe to quenche of slepe the thrust.
Let Israell trust vnto the lord alway,
Ffor grace and favour arn his propertie;
Plenteus rannzome shall com with hym, I say,
And shall redeme all our iniquitie.
This word redeme that in his mowght did sownd,
Did put David, it semyth vnto me,
As in a traunce to starre apon the grownd,
And with his thowght the heyght of hevin to se;
Where he beholdes the word that shold confownd
The sword off deth, by humble ere to be
In mortall mayd, in mortall habitt made,
Eternall lyff in mortall vaile to shade.
Did put David, it semyth vnto me,
As in a traunce to starre apon the grownd,
And with his thowght the heyght of hevin to se;
Where he beholdes the word that shold confownd
The sword off deth, by humble ere to be
In mortall mayd, in mortall habitt made,
Eternall lyff in mortall vaile to shade.
He seith that word, when full rype tyme shold come,
Do way that vayle by fervent affectione
Torne off with deth, for deth shold have her dome.
And leppeth lyghter from such coruptione
The glint of lyght that in the Ayre doth lome.
Manne redemid, deth hath her distructione,
That mortall vaile hath immortalite,
David assurance off his iniquite.
Do way that vayle by fervent affectione
Torne off with deth, for deth shold have her dome.
And leppeth lyghter from such coruptione
The glint of lyght that in the Ayre doth lome.
Manne redemid, deth hath her distructione,
That mortall vaile hath immortalite,
David assurance off his iniquite.
Wherby he frames this reson in his hert:
That goodnes wych doth not forbere his sonne
From deth for me and can therby convert
My deth to lyff, my synn to salvation,
Both can and woll a smaller grace depert
To hym that suyth by humble supplication;
And sins I have his larger grace assayd,
To aske this thing whi ame I then affrayd?
That goodnes wych doth not forbere his sonne
From deth for me and can therby convert
My deth to lyff, my synn to salvation,
Both can and woll a smaller grace depert
123
And sins I have his larger grace assayd,
To aske this thing whi ame I then affrayd?
He grauntyth most to them that most do crave,
And he delyghtes in suyte withowt respect;
Alas my sonne, poursuys me to the grave,
Sufferd by god my sinne for to correct;
But of my sinne sins I my pardonne have,
My sonnis poursuyt shall shortly be reiect;
Then woll I crave with suryd confidence.
And thus begynns the suyt off his pretence.
And he delyghtes in suyte withowt respect;
Alas my sonne, poursuys me to the grave,
Sufferd by god my sinne for to correct;
But of my sinne sins I my pardonne have,
My sonnis poursuyt shall shortly be reiect;
Then woll I crave with suryd confidence.
And thus begynns the suyt off his pretence.
Psalm 143.
Domine exaudi orationem meam
Here my prayer o lord, here my request,Complyshe my bone, answere to my desire,
Not by desert, but for thyn own byhest,
In whose ferme trowgh thou promest myn empyre
To stond stable. And after thy Justyse,
Performe, o lord, the thing that I require;
But not off law after the forme and guyse
To entre judgement with thy thrall bond slave,
To plede his ryght, for in such maner wyse
By fore thy syght no man his ryght shall save.
Ffor off my sellff lo this my ryght wisenes,
By skourge and whipp and prykyng spurrs I have
Skante rysen vp, such is my bestlynes;
Ffor that my enmy hath pursuyd my lyff,
And in the dust hath foyld my lustynes;
124
He hath me forst as ded to hyd my hed;
And for by cawse within my sellff at stryffe
My hert and spryte with all my force were fled.
I had recourse to tyms that have ben past,
And did remembre thy dedes in all my dred;
And did peruse thi workes that euer last,
Wherby I knew above those wondres all
Thy mercys were. Then lyfft I vp in hast
My handes to the, my sowle to the did call
Like bareyne soyle for moystre off thy grace.
Hast to my help, o lord, afore I fall;
Ffor sure I fele my spryte doth faynt a pace
Torne not thi face from me, that I be layd
In compt off them that hedlyng down do pase
In to the pitt. Shew me by tyms thyn Ayde,
Ffor on thy grace I holly do depend.
And in thi hand sins all my helth is stayde
Do me to know what way thou wolt I bend,
Ffor vnto the I have reysd vp my mynd.
Rydd me, o lord, from that that do entend
My foos to me, ffor I have me assind
Allway within thi secrette protection.
Tech me thy will, that I by the may fynd
The way to work the same in affection.
Ffor thou my god, thy blyssyd spryte vp right,
In lond off trowght shalbe my dyrection.
Thow for thy name, lord, shalt revive my spryte
Within the ryght that I receyve by the,
Wherby my lyff off danger shalbe quyte.
125
That vext my sowle, thou shalt also confownd
My foos, o lord, for thy benignite,
Ffor thyn ame I, thy servant ay most bownd.
| Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | |