 | Divine poems
|  |
|
Eleg. 2.
Bondage hath forc'd my servile necke to faile
Beneath her load; Afflictions nimble flayle
Hath thrasht my soule upon a floore of stones,
And quasht the marrow of my broken bones,
Th'assembled powres of Heaven enrag'd, are eager
To root me out: Heavens souldiers doe beleager
My worried soule, my soule unapt for fleeing,
That yeelds o'reburthen'd with her tedious being;
Th'Almighties hand hath clouded all my night,
And clad my soule with a perpetuall light,
A night of torments, and eternall sorrow,
Like that of Death, that never findes a morrow.
| Divine poems
| |
|
