University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The Works in Verse and Prose

(including hitherto unpublished Mss.) of Sir John Davies: for the first time collected and edited: With memorial-introductions and notes: By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart. In three volumes

collapse sectionI. 
collapse section 
  
  
  
collapse section 
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
  
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
collapse section 
 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
 6. 
 7. 
 8. 
 9. 
 10. 
 11. 
 12. 
 13. 
 14. 
 15. 
 16. 
 17. 
 18. 
 19. 
 20. 
 21. 
 22. 
 23. 
 24. 
 25. 
 26. 
 27. 
 28. 
 29. 
 30. 
 31. 
 32. 
 33. 
 34. 
 35. 
 36. 
 37. 
 38. 
 39. 
 40. 
 41. 
 42. 
 43. 
 44. 
 45. 
 46. 
 47. 
 48. 
collapse section 
 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
 6. 
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
PSALM XXXVIII.
 XXXIX. 
 XL. 
 XLI. 
 XLII. 
 XLIII. 
 XLIV. 
 XLV. 
 XLVI. 
 XLVII. 
 XLVIII. 
 XLIX. 
 L. 
 LXVII. 
 XCV. 
 C. 
 CIII. 
 XCI. 
 CL. 
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

PSALM XXXVIII.

If for my sinnes Thine anger kindled bee,
Lord! let not then Thy justice chastise mee;
Thine arrowes fixèd in my flesh doe stand,
I feele the pressure of Thy heauie hand;
I haue noe health Thine anger is soe much,
My bones noe rest; my greiuous synne is such,
My wickednes doth mount aboue my head
And fallinge presse mee like a load of lead;
My ulcers are corrupted and doe smell.
Caus'd by my folly which I blush to tell.
I am with greife soe broken and soe torne,
As I all day in heart and habit mourne.
My loynes are fillèd with a sore desease,
Noe parte of all my bodie feeleth ease;
I am soe faint, soe feeble, and soe sore,
As paine and anguish make mee crie and roare;
Thou Lord! the longings of my heart dost see,

418

My sighes and groanings are not hidd from Thee.
My heart doth pant, my sinewes faile mee quite,
My weepinge eyes haue lost their power of sight;
Meane while, my freinds and neighbours they looke on,
My nearest kinsmen farthest of[f] are gon:
And they which seeke my life haue layed their snares
And sett their trapps to catch mee vnawares.
They that to doe mee mischeife lye in wait
Doe plott and practise nothinge but deceit;
But as for mee in silent patience
I seemèd deafe and dumbe and voyd of sence,
As one whose eare admitts not any sound,
And in whose mouth there is noe answeare found.
For on the Lord I euermore rely,
Though I stand mute, Thou shalt for mee replie:
My suite is that my foes may not preuaile
Who greatly joy to see my footinge faile;
For in a place of stumblinge sett am I,
My sad estate is still before mine eye;
But I with sorrow will confesse my synne,
And greiue that I offend my God therein;
And yet my foes doe liue and grow in might,

419

They grow in numbers which do beare mee spight.
They which doe ill for good, doe hate mee too,
Because I loue good turnes for ill to doe;
Lord leaue mee not nor from mee farr depart
Saue mee with speede: for Thou my safety art