The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney :: :: University of Virginia Library

Speake thou for me, against wrong speaking foes:
Thy force O Lord against their force oppose.
Take upp thy shield and for my succour stand
Yea take thy launce and stoppe the way of those
That seeke my bane; O make me understand
In sprite, that I shall have thy helping hand.

Confounde those folks, thrust them in shamfull hoale
That hunt so poore a pray, as is my soule.
Rebuke, and wrack, on those wrong-doers throw
Who for my hurt, each way their thoughtes did roule.
And as vile chaff, away the wind doth blow,
Lett Angell thine, a scatt'ring make them goe.

Lett Angell thine pursue them as they fly
But lett their flight be dark, and slippery
For causles they, both pitt, and nett did sett:
For causles they, did seeke to make me dy:
Lett their sly witts unwares destruction gett:
Fall in self pitt, be caught in their own nett.

232

Then shall I joy in thee, then sav'd by thee
I both in mind, and boanes shall gladded be.
Ev'n boanes shall say (ô God) who is thy peere?
Who poore and weake, from ritch, and strong dost free.
Who helpest those, whose ruine was so neere,
From him whose force did in their spoiles appeere.

Who did me wrong, against me wittnesse beare,
Layeng such things, as never in me weare:
So my good deedes they pay, with evill share
With cruell mindes, my very soule to teare.
And whose? ev'n his, who when they sicknes bare,
With inward woe, an outward sack-cloth ware.

I did pull down my self, fasting for such,
I praid, with praiers, which my brest did touch:
In summe I shew'd, that I to them was bent
As brothers, or as freendes beloved much.
Still, still, for them I humbly moorning went,
Like one that should, his mothers death lament.

But lo, soone as they did me stagg'ring see,
Who joy but thei, when they assembled be?
Then abjects, while I was unwitting quite
Against me swarme, ceaslesse to raile at me
With scoffers false, I was theyr feasts delight,
Even gnashing teeth, to wittnesse more their spight.

Lord wilt thou see, and wilt thou suffer it?
Oh; on my soule, let not these tumults hitt.
Save me distrest, from Lions cruell kind.
I will thanck thee, where congregations sitt,
Even where I do most store of people find,
Most to thy laudes will I my speeches bind.

Then, then lett not my foes unjustly joy:
Let them not fleere, who me would causles stroy.
Who never word of peace yet utter would,
But hunt with craft the quiett mans annoy.
And said to me, wide mowing, as they could:
A, ha: Sir, now we see you, where we should.

233

This thou hast seene: and wilt thou silent be?
O Lord doe not absent thi self from me:
But rise, but wake, that I may judgment gett.
My Lord, my God, ev'n to my equity,
Judg Lord: judge, God, ev'n in thy justice greate:
Lett not their joy, upon my woes be sett.

Lett them not, Lord, within their harts thus say:
O soule rejoyce, we made this wretch our pray.
But throw them down, put them to endles blame,
Who make a cause to joy, of my decay.
Lett them be cloth'd, with most confounding shame,
That lift them selves my ruine, for to frame.

But make such gladd and full of joyfullnesse;
That yet beare love, unto my righteousnesse:
Yet, let them say, laud be to God allwaies,
Who loves with good, his servaunts good to blesse.
As for my tongue, while I have any daies,
Thy justice wittnesse shall, and speake thy praise.