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| 58. | Psalm 58 Si vere utique |
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 | The psalms |  |
113
Psalm 58 Si vere utique
And call yee this to utter what is just,
You that of justice hold the sov'raign throne?
And call yee this to yeld, O sonnes of dust,
To wronged brethren ev'ry man his own?
O no: it is your long malicious will
Now to the world to make by practize known,
With whose oppression you the ballance fill,
Just to your selves, indiff'rent else to none.
You that of justice hold the sov'raign throne?
And call yee this to yeld, O sonnes of dust,
To wronged brethren ev'ry man his own?
O no: it is your long malicious will
Now to the world to make by practize known,
With whose oppression you the ballance fill,
Just to your selves, indiff'rent else to none.
But what could they, who ev'n in birth declin'd,
From truth and right to lies and injuries?
To shew the venim of their cancred mynd
The adders image scarcly can suffice;
Nay scarce the aspick may with them contend,
On whom the charmer all in vaine applies
His skillfull'st spells: ay missing of his end,
While shee self-deff, and unaffected lies.
From truth and right to lies and injuries?
To shew the venim of their cancred mynd
The adders image scarcly can suffice;
Nay scarce the aspick may with them contend,
On whom the charmer all in vaine applies
His skillfull'st spells: ay missing of his end,
While shee self-deff, and unaffected lies.
Lord crack their teeth, Lord crush these lions jawes,
Soe lett them sinck as water in the sand:
When deadly bow their aiming fury drawes,
Shiver the shaft er past the shooters hand.
So make them melt as the dishowsed snaile
Or as the Embrio, whose vitall band
Breakes er it holdes, and formlesse eyes do faile
To see the sun, though brought to lightfull land.
Soe lett them sinck as water in the sand:
When deadly bow their aiming fury drawes,
Shiver the shaft er past the shooters hand.
So make them melt as the dishowsed snaile
Or as the Embrio, whose vitall band
Breakes er it holdes, and formlesse eyes do faile
To see the sun, though brought to lightfull land.
O let their brood, a brood of springing thornes,
Be by untymely rooting overthrowne
Er bushes waxt, they push with pricking hornes,
As fruites yet greene are oft by tempest blowne.
The good with gladnes this reveng shall see,
And bath his feete in bloud of wicked one
While all shall say: the just rewarded be,
There is a God that carves to each his own.
Be by untymely rooting overthrowne
Er bushes waxt, they push with pricking hornes,
As fruites yet greene are oft by tempest blowne.
The good with gladnes this reveng shall see,
And bath his feete in bloud of wicked one
While all shall say: the just rewarded be,
There is a God that carves to each his own.
| The psalms | |