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Du Bartas

His Divine Weekes And Workes with A Compleate Collectio[n] of all the other most delight-full Workes: Translated and written by yt famous Philomusus: Iosvah Sylvester

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The Third Booke.
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974

The Third Booke.

Flame-snorting Phlegon's ruddy breath began,
Reducing Day, to gild the Indian;
When early wakened with their ratling Drums,
Each Heathen Souldier from his Caban comes,
Takes-vp his Arms; and marching in Array,
Towards Bethulia tends the ready way.
In May, the Meads are not so py'd with Flowers,
Of sundry Figures, Colours, Savours, Powers;
As was this Hoast, with Squadrons, different
In Language, Maners, Arms, and Ornament:
So that th'old Chäos (wombe of th'Vniverse)
Was never made of Members more diverse.
Yet, heer-in All agreed, for all their Ods,
To warre against th'Eternall God of Gods,
Whose breath, whose beck, makes both the Poles to shake,
And Caucasus and Libanus to quake.
Heer, cold Hyrcania's bold and braving Seed,
Mixt with (Their neighbours) both Armenias Breed,
Wave wanton Crests. There, Parthian Archers try
Backward to shoot, the while they forward fly.
The Persian, there, proud of th'Imperiall state,
With golden scales scalops his Armed plate.
Heer would the Mede show, that for want of Hap,
Not Heart, He lost His (late) Imperiall Cap.
And that, nor Pomp of his too sumptuous Suits;
His painted Cheeks, his Phrygik Layes and Lutes;
His crisped Bush, not his long, borrowed Lock,
Had ever power his Manly mind to smock:
Happy-Arabians, who their Fern-thatcht Townes
Tumble in Tumbrels vp and downe the Downes:
The subtle Tyrians, who did first invent,
Our winged words, in Barks of Trees to print:

975

The men of Moab, and the Ammonites,
The Iduméans, and the Elamites,
Learned Ægyptians: Those that neer confine
The swelting Coasts of swartest Abyssine:
In briefe; All Asia was immur'd almost
Within the Trenches of This mighty Hoast;
Wherein, wel-neer as many Nations clustred,
As th'Hebrews Army single Souldiers mustred.
But, of all These, none plagu'd the Israelites,
More, then their owne Apostate Ephraimites;
Who, not to seem of kin to Israel,
Rag'd with more fury, fought more deadly fell.
As, in the Spring time, while a Poole is still,
And smooth aloft, the Froggs lye croaking shrill;
But if the least Stone that a Child can fling
But stir the water, straight they cease to sing:
So, while a happy Peace Ivdea blest,
The Constancy of These stood with the best
Among the Saints; and the Lord's sacred Praise
Was in their mouthes daily and many waies;
So that they seem'd like burning Lamps to shine
Amid the Flock, devoutly-most-divine:
But, at the Noyse of Holofernes Name,
Their famous Faith nothing but ayre became;
Their Mouth is stopr, the Zeale they did presume
So highly hot, is vanisht into Fume.
Nay, turned Pagans (for som Profits sake)
They, worse then Pagans, their poor Brethren rake.
O! what a Number of such Ephraimites
Are now-adayes (Deceitfull Hypocrites!)
With-in the Church, the while a prosperous winde,
With gentle Gales, blowes fair and full behinde;
Which seem with Zeal the Gospel to imbrace,
While that it yeelds them either Gain, or Grace:
But, if the Chance change; if it hap to puffe
But halfe afront; if She be fain to luffe;
Faint-hearted, then forth-with they cast about:
And, with th'Almighty playing banque-rout,
With greater Rage his Law they persecute,
Then yerst with Zeal they did it prosecute;
And in their Malice growe more fierce and furious,
Then Iulian yerst, or Celsus, or Porphyrius.
Soon as the Hebrews from their Turrets spy
So many Ensignes waving in the Sky;
And such an Hoast, marching in such Array,
Begirt a farre their Citie every way:
They faint for dread; not having where to run,
Save to the GOD their Grandsires trusted on.

976

O Father (cry they) Father of Compassion,
Whose wing is wont to be our strong Salvation;
Sith now against vs all the World doth swarm,
O! Cover vs with thine Almighty arm.
Thus having pray'd, the Carefull Gouernour
To Charge his Watches doth him quick bestir;
And when the Sun in his moist Cabin dives,
With hundred Fires the Day again revives;
Watches himselfe amid the Court of Guard;
Walks oft the Round: and weens, that over-hard
Phœbe's black Coachman drives his sable Steeds,
Hebrews neer Ruine hasting more then needs;
While, opposite, the Pagans think her fast
With her Endymion, in a slumber cast:
But, Mens frail wishes have (alas!) no force,
To hold, or hasten, the Heav'ns settled Course.
Soon as the saw Aurora's saffron ray
On their Horizon to renew the Day;
The Vice-Roy makes a thousand Trumpets sound,
T'assemble all his scatter'd Troops around;
Which from all parts with speedy pases went
Environing their Chief-Commanders Tent:
As round about a Huntsman, in a morn,
The Hounds do throng when once they hear his horn.
Having, in vain, summon'd the Town; he tries
A hundred wayes, it (wrathfull) to surprise:
Heer, th'Enginer begins his Ram to reare;
Heer mounts his Trepan, and his Scorpion there;
Bends heer his Bricol, there his boysterous Bowe;
Brings heer his Fly-Bridge, there his batt'ring Crowe:
Besides high Timber-Towers, on rowling Feet
Mov'd and remov'd; contorlling every Street.
Heer, Pioners are put the Ditch to fill;
To levell Mounts, to make a Hole a Hill:
To play the Moules, to dig a secret way,
Into the Town their Souldiers to convay.
Heer, others must their Ladders raise the while,
And quick surprise the Sentinels, by wile:
Others must vnder-mine: others aspire,
With matter fitting, every Gate to fire.
But the most part stand ready in Array
To give Assault, soon as they see their Way
Made meet and easie by the battering Thunder
Of all their Engines pashing Wals in sunder.
Tower-tearing Mars, Bellona thirsting-blood,
Fill there the faintest with their Furious-mood:
There fiery Steeds, stamping and neighing loud;
There Pagans fell, braving and raving proud,

977

With hideous noise make th'Heav'nly Vault resound,
The Earth to eccho; and even Hell astound.
But He that keeps eternall Sentinell
On Heav'ns high Watch-Tower, for His Israel
Pittying his People, alters, in a trice,
The Tyrants purpose, by a new Advice;
Causing the Captains of brave Moabites,
Strong Iduméans, and stout Ammonites,
Thus to advise: Most noble Generall,
Terror of Kings, redoubted Scourge of All;
We would not wish (my Lord) in any sort,
You bring Your brave Bands to assault this Fort:
For, neither Pike, Dart, Sling, Bowe, Sword, nor Shield,
So back the Foe, or make them slack to yeeld;
As these proud Rocks, which, by wise Natures grace,
Rampire the Rampires of this wretched Place:
Which yer You scale, vndoubtedly will cost
Ladders of Bodies; and even Tythe your Hoast.
The Victor is no Victor, if his Gain
Pass not his Loss; nor th'Honor droun the Stain.
Wise-valiant Prince, that Fisher, Fool we hold,
Who for a Gull, venters a Line of Gold:
And, ill doth th'Honor of a Crown beseem
Th'inhumane, bloody, barbarous, Head of Him
Who rather would the Death of many Foes,
Then Life and Safety of one Friend, to chose.
You may (my Lord) you may, with-out Assault,
Or Loss of Man, reduce them all to nought,
If in yon Hillocks you but seize the Springs,
Whence hollow Lead the Hebrews Water brings;
Who, so by Thirst distrest, and so put to't,
Will come and cast them haltred at your Foot.
The noble Lion never sets-vpon
Base fearfull Beasts, but on the noblest one:
Iove's sulphury Darts He seld or never thrils
But on Mount Atlas, or the Ryphean Hills:
And stormfull Auster, ever rather smote
Clowd-cleaving Turrets then a lowly Cote:
No more, no more let your drad Arms assail
So faint a Foe as of himself will quail.
It is not Fear (my Lord) and much-less Pittie;
(Fear of our Selves, or Fauour to the Citie)
Makes vs oppose vs to Thy Purpose yet:
For, yer that We Thy happy Standards quit:
For Thee will We defie th'immortall Gods:
For Thee Wee 'll break their Altars all to Clods:
For Thee will We march with vnweary soles,
Beyond the Artik and Antartik Poles:

978

For Thee will We with winged Arms go fetch
Iove's Aigle down; and Neptune's Trident snatch:
For Thee, the Sonne shall not his Sire forbear,
Nor Sire the Sonne; nor Brother, Brother spare.
The Generall, who for Avail revolves,
Peizes this Counsail; and re-peiz'd, resolves:
Dispatching speedy a selected Force,
To seize the Waters, and divert their Course.
Th'Hebrews, Their Drift, and their Owne Danger see
In that Attempt: so sally instantly
To stop the Foe from stopping of the Stream
Which should deriue Liquor and Life to Them.
Then Pagans fighting for ambitious Fame;
Iewes, not to die with vn-revenged Shame;
Bravely incounter with so fell Disdain,
That now the Pagan flyes, now fights again;
Followes his Flying Foe: and now the Iew,
Nigh foiled, faints; now doth the Fight renew:
So that fair Victory seems long to waver,
As it were, doubtfull whether side to fauour:
Till (at the last) th'Hebrews, all over spread
With Clowds of Shot, back to their Bulwark fled:
Even as a Pilgrim, in the naked Plain
Meeting a Storm of mighty Hail or Rain,
Runs dropping wet some hollow Rock to finde,
Or other Covert built by Nature kinde.
Pagans pursue them, and pel-mel among
Enter almost the Citie in the Throng.
Then every where did dreadfull Noise arise:
From street to street th'amazed Vulgar flyes;
Tearing their haire, beating their brest and face:
As if the Foe had euen possest the Place.
Why flie ye Cowards? Whither? Doe you knowe?
What Fortress have you, if you This forgoe?
Or, in this Citie seek you for a stronger,
To gard you better, or preserve you longer?
If now (alas!) you dare not beare you stout
Against the Foe, while he is yet with-out;
How will you dare resist his violence,
Were he once Master of your weak Defence?
The People, chid thus by their prudent Chief,
Som-what re-heart'ned, rescue with relief
Cambris and Carmis; who, the while like Towers,
Had in the Gate witstood the Assaulting Stowers
Of almost all the furious Infidels.
For Lance, a long Mast, either strongly welds,
For Arms an Anvile; each a massie Targe
Of steel about his neck, as long as large:

979

Adown their shoulders from their Helms did wave
Thick Plumie Clowds of Colours-brightly brave:
Both like, in Age, in Courage, Name, and Nature;
Both like, in bulk, both like in Strength and Stature.
Both, like two Popplars which (on either side
Some silver Brook) their tressie Tops do hide
Amid the Clouds; and shaken by the winde,
Oft kiss each other, like Two Brethren kinde.
The Heathen, seeing still fresh Troops descend
From every side, the Citie to defend;
Leave-off their On-set: and welnigh disbanded,
Gladly retreat whither their Heads commanded.
When I consider the extream distress
Which thirty Dayes did the Bethulians press;
Song sad enough I hardly can invent,
So deadly Plight lively to represent:
My hand for horror shakes, and can no more
Guide on this page my Pen as heretofore:
Yet doo mine Eyes with Tears bedeaw it so,
It well appears a subiect full of Woe.
Thou Spirit which doost all Spirits vivifie;
Which didst vnloose the Tongue of Zacharie;
And, through the World thy sacred Name to preach,
Thy Messengers so sundry Tongues didst teach:
Direct my wearie Quill, my Courage raise,
That I, This Work may finish to Thy Praise.
Though th'Hebrews saw their Town, on every part,
Not with an Hoast, but with a World begirt,
Yet had they Hope the long Siege would no less
Consume th'Assyrians, then themselues distress:
But when the Foe had all the Pipes depriv'd,
Whence, Water yerst the sacred Town deriv'd,
Alas! their Hope and even their heart did shrink,
As quite cut-off, and dry'd vp with their Drink.
The Rulers though (yer Bondage, Death to take)
Give to the People what Themselves did lack:
To wit, a hope, Water enough to keep
In private Troughs, and publike Cesterns deep;
Both Citizens and Souldiers to suffice,
So that they would be moderate and wise.
So: th'Officers divide in silver measures,
To all, of all sorts, of these liquid Treasures,
This welcom Liquor; which might serve (at first)
To keep their life a while, not quench their Thirst.
Their Cesterns dry'd, they seek in every sink:
Of every Gutter greedily they drink;
T'appease their Thirst awhile, not please their taste,
With Drink whose stink was oft the Drinkers last.

980

O wretched Men! O wondrous Misery!
Little, or much; drink, or not drink; they dy.
Plenty and Lack of Liquor, in extreme
Though Contraries, concurr to murder them:
With-in whose Bodies warreth Thirst, as fell
As outwardly th'outrageous Infidell.
Street, Lane, nor Alley had this wofull Citie,
Where-in the Sisters, Enemies to Pitie,
Invented not some new and vncouth guise
To murder Hebrews; and from firmest eyes
(In signe of Sorrow) showers to extract
Of pearly Tears, of bitter brine compact;
'Mid all Degrees; if rested any-where
But so much moysture as could make a Teare.
There, an Old man complaineth that a Lad
Hath new snatcht from him all the Drink he had:
But Thirst contracts his Throat, his voyce, and vains;
And ends at once his Life, his Plaint, and Pains:
A Souldier heer re-swils again (and gladder)
Th'vnsavory Water which had sweld his bladder:
There th'wofull Mother, on her Couching-Settle,
Her half-dead Childe reviveth with her Spettle:
Heer the sad Lover sighes her latest breath
With the last Sighes of her deer Love, in Death.
For, cruell Thirst, comn from Cyrenian Strand
(Where ay Shee lives amid the burning Sand,
Perpetuall panting for continuall Drouth,
Hanging her Tongue a foot without her Mouth,
Her Face all wrinkled, both her Eyes deep sunk,
Her Body leane and light, her Bowels shrunk,
Her Brest transparent, and her Veins repleat
With Brimstone, all, in steed of Blood's moist Heat)
Blowes from her rotten Lungs a loathsome breath
Through all the Town; infusing Fumes of Death
In th'Hebrews Artires; causing every Porch
Obscurely shine with some Funereall Torch.
So that the Heav'ns, seeing so many Woes,
Could hold no longer; but would faine with those
Sad-weeping Hebrews Their sad Tears have meld,
Save that their Tears the Lord of Hoasts with-held.
And, I my Self, that drown mine Eyes with Theirs,
Vnable though well to express those Tears,
Will with my Silence vaile their Countenance;
Following that Painters learned Ignorance,
Who well conceiving that his live-less Colours
Could not to life express the deadly Dolours
Of Agamemnon at his Daughters End,
Cover'd his sad Face with a sable Bend.

981

Mean-while, the few that of this Wrack remain,
Against their sad Chiefs murmur and complain:
The Lord, say they, in Iustice recompence
Your wilfull Malice, and Our Innocence:
The Lord, look down vpon the wretched Teen
Your wicked Counsails have heer plung'd vs in:
For, had you yeelded to the Foes demand,
Yer hee had entred on the Holy Land,
We, happy we, had never seen our Friends
So hap-lesse brought to so vntimely Ends.
Alas! What Comfort rests? O wretched City!
Those that besiege thee round would show thee Pity;
Thine Owne are Cruell: Foes would fain preserve-thee:
Thy Friends destroy thee: Those would fain reserve-thee,
Would save thy Children; thine owne Children rather
Run headlong all on willfull Death together.
Lord, well we know, our wicked Deeds have made
Thee (iust displeas'd) to drawe the keenest Blade
Of thy fierce-kindled ire, which iustly sheads
Thy deadliest Darts on our disloyall heads.
Yet, Thou, which dost not long thy Wrath retain,
(Against thine Owne) O turn to Vs again:
Lord, change the purpose of our wilfull Lords,
Who 'gainst our Bosomes whet the Pagan Swords:
Or grant (at least) with thousand Arrowes thrill'd,
We rather may by Heathen hands be kill'd;
Then longer Languor of this banefull Thirst
To linger vs in living Death accurst.
Deer Brethren, 'tis our only Duty bindes,
Their Rulers said (not our sinister mindes
Of vndermining, or of pyning Ours)
Thus to hold out against these Heathen Powers.
If You have Pain, We have our Portion too;
We are imbarkt in the same Ship with you:
On the same Deep we the same Danger run;
Our Cross is common, and our Loss is one:
As common shall our comfort be, when GOD
Shall please to ease vs of th'Assyrians Rod:
As sure he will, if Your Impatiency
Stop not the Course of his kinde Clemency.
Then, strive not with th'All-Perfect; but depend
On God alone: Whose Actions all do tend
To profit His: Who, in his Season, ever
(Almighty) can and will His Church deliver.
Somtimes the Archer lets his Bowe, vnbent,
Hang idly by; that, when it is re-bent
With boysterous Armes, it may the farther cast
His winged shafts, and fix them far more fast:

982

So, oft the Lord seems, in his Bosom, long
To hold his hand; and after (as more strong)
To hammer Those whose impious Impudence
Mis-spends the Treasure of his Patience,
Which (at first sight) gives all Impunity
(As think the Lewd) to all Iniquity.
But, at the last, his heavy Vengeance paies
Them home, for all his Iustice long Delaies:
As th'Vsurer, forbearing of his poor
And needy Debtors, makes his Debt the more.
What though th'high Thunderer, in his Fury dread,
Strike not in th'instant this proud Vice-Roy dead?
Can all th'Amass of Waters which he pent
Above and vnder th'ample Firmament,
Seditious, so shake off his Soverain Power,
As not to send the thirstie Earth a Shower?
No, no: though Heav'ns, on every side so cleer,
Boad nothing less then Rain, or moysture neer:
They with their Tears shall shortly soak the Plain,
As on the Day when Saul began to raign:
For, all the Heav'ns, the Stars, and Elements,
Must execute his high Commandements.
But still the Plebe, with Thirst and Fury prest,
Thus roaring, raving, 'gainst their Chiefs contest:
O, holy Nation! shall we, shall We die,
Their Elderships grave Sights to satisfie?
O! shall we die to please These foolish-wise,
Who make themselves rich by our Miseries;
And with our Bloods would purchase them a Name,
To live for ever in the Role of Fame?
No, no: Let's rather break their servile bands
Which hold vs in: let's take into our hands
Our Cities Helm; that freeing it from Sack,
We wisely so may free our Selves from Wrack.
As the Physician, by the Patient Prest,
Who, on his Bed (vnruly) will not rest;
Permits somtimes what Art prohibiteth:
Osias so, importun'd, promiseth
To yeeld the Town, if in five Dayes appear
No certain Signe of divine Succour neer.
The People then, their woefull past estate,
Their present pain, and future Fears, forgate:
Sith though it should not hap as most they thirst;
At least, they should of Evils scape the worst.
But Ivdith (who the while incessant Showres
From her sad eyes, in signe of Sorrow poures)
With mournfull voyce now cals vpon the Lord;
Anon, her sad Soule comforts in his Word:

983

Prayers were her Stairs, the highest Heav'ns to clime;
God's Word, a Garden, where (in needfull time)
Shee found her Simples (in Examples pure)
The Carefull Passion of her Heart to cure.
There, Ivdith reading (then not casually,
But by God's will, which still works certainly)
Light on the place where the left handed Prince,
Who, griev'd for Israels grievous Languishments
Vnder the Heathen; to deliver them
Slew Moabs's Eglon, by a Stratagem.
The more she reads, she marks it, and admires
That Act of Ahud, and in Zeale desires
To imitate his valour. But frail flesh
With thousand Reasons would her purpose dash;
Proposing, now, the Facts foule odiousnes;
Then, Fear of Death; then, Dangers numberless,
Where-to she puts her Honor: and that (though,
For Israels sake, God should the Act allow)
Behoves a Man's hand, not a Woman's (there)
Much fitter for a Spindle than a Speare.
While Ivdith thus with Ivdith doubts doth wage,
A sudden Puff turns-over that same Page:
And, that which followes showes, how Iabel yerst
Courageously the sleeping temples perç't
Of that fell Pagan, who from th'Hebrews flying,
Accursed found in his Defence his dying:
To teach all Tyrants in all Times to-come,
That they may fly, but not out-fly their Doome.
This last Example did so fortifie
The fearfull Widow, that even by and by
Shee would with Engine of Revenge endevour
So wicked Soule's and Bodie's knot to sever.
But while apart Shee plots, and plots anew
Some wylie way her purpose to pursue;
She hears reported, by a neighbour Dame,
The Townes Decree, much grieved at the same:
So: to prevent Mischiefs so neer at hand,
She sends forth-with for Those of Chiefe Command,
Whom sharpely sweet She thus begins to chide:
Why! How-now, Lordings, shall the Lord be ty'd
Vnto your Terms? Will you th'Almightie's Arms
Chain with your Counsails? limit with your Charms?
O! vniudicious Iudges, will you Thus
Giue law to God, who giues it Heav'n and Vs?
Will you subiect, to Times confined Stayes,
Th'Author of Times, Months, Moments, Years and Daies?
Be not deceiv'd; The sacred Power Divine
No Circumstance can compass or confine:

984

God can do, what he will; will, what he ought:
Ought loue his righteous (whom his love hath bought)
This (Fathers) This my dead Hopes most reviues,
That, in our Citie not a man surviues
Who lifts his hands (after the Heathen fashions)
Vnto the dumb, dead Idols of the Nations.
All Sins are Sins: but That foule Sin, alone
Exceeds all blinde or bold transgression
That we have heapt 'gainst sacred Heav'n: for, that
Seems to degrade God of his Soverain State;
To give his Glory to a Wedge of Gold,
Or Block, or Stock, or Stone of curious mold.
Sith then That Sin doth not our Conscience taint,
Of God's deer Succour let vs never faint:
Let's think (alas!) how now all Iuda's Eyes,
Agast, are cast vpon Our Constancies:
Let's think, that All will (over all the Land)
By our Example, either stoop or stand:
Let's think, that All these Altars, Houses, Goods,
Stand (after God) on our couragious-Moods:
Let's think, We keep the Gate of Israel;
And that, so soon opening to th'Infidell
(Who hates so deadly all our Abramides)
Wee shall be held Traytors and Paricides.
We cannot, neither will we now deny
But that our Counsaile (Thus the Chiefe reply)
Was foolish, and offensive to the Lord:
But now (alas!) we cannot break our word.
But, if Thou rew our Common miseries;
And canst not see our Tears with tear-less Eyes;
Weep night and day: O! weep and sigh so much,
That thy sad Sighs and Tears with ruth may touch
Th'Eternall Iudge; whose gentle Eare is ay
Open to All that to Him humbly pray.
I shall, said Shee, and (if God say Amen)
Dis-siege this City, yer we meet again.
Sound me no further, but expect th'Event
Of Mine (I hope) happy as high Intent:
And, soon as Night hath spred her dusky Damp,
Let Me go forth into the Heathen Camp.
Go on, in God's Name: and where-ere thou art,
God guide (say They) thy Foot, thy Hand, thy Hart.
The end of the third Booke.