Petrarchs seven penitentiall psalms paraphrastically translated: With other Philosophicall Poems, and a Hymne to Christ vpon the Crosse. Written by George Chapman |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IIII. |
| V. | PSALME V. Noctes meæ in mœrore transeunt. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
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 | Petrarchs seven penitentiall psalms |  |
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PSALME V. Noctes meæ in mœrore transeunt.
1
Yet, Lord, vnquiet sinne is stirring,My long nights, longer grow, like euening shades:
In which woe lost, is all waies erring:
And varied terror euery step inuades.
Wayes made in teares, shut as they ope,
My lodestarre I can no way see:
Lame is my faith, blind loue and hope,
And, Lord, tis passing ill with me.
2
My sleepe, like glasse, in dreames is broken,No quiet yeelding, but affright and care,
Signes that my poore life is forspoken:
Lord, courbe the ill, and good in place prepare.
No more delay my spent desire,
Tis now full time, for thee to heare:
Thy loue hath set my soule on fire,
My heart quite broke twixt hope and feare.
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3
No outward light, my life hath graced,My mind hath euer bene my onely Sunne:
And that so farre hath enuie chaced,
That all in clouds her hated head is runne.
And while she hides, immortall cares
Consume the soule, that sense inspires:
Since outward she sets eyes and eares,
And other ioyes spend her desires.
4
She musters both without and in me,Troubles, and tumults: she's my houshold theefe,
Opes all my doores to lust, and enuie,
And all my persecutors lends releefe.
Bind her, Lord, and my true soule free,
Preferre the gift thy hand hath giuen:
Thy image in her, crowne in me,
And make vs here free, as in heauen.
All glorie to the Father be,
And to the Sonne, &c.
And to the Sonne, &c.
| Petrarchs seven penitentiall psalms | |