 | Saint Peters complaint |  |
SAINT PETERS COMPLAINT.
Newlie augmented VVith other Poems.
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A Phansie turned to a sinners complaint.
Hee that his mirth hath lost,
vvhose comfort is to rue,
vvhose hope is fallen, whose faith is cras'de,
vvhose trust is found vntrue:
vvhose comfort is to rue,
vvhose hope is fallen, whose faith is cras'de,
vvhose trust is found vntrue:
If he haue held them deere,
And cannot cease to mone;
Come, let him take his place by me,
He shall not rue alone.
And cannot cease to mone;
Come, let him take his place by me,
He shall not rue alone.
But if the smallest sweete,
Be mixt with all his sower;
If in the day, the moneth, the yeare,
He feele one lightning hower,
Be mixt with all his sower;
If in the day, the moneth, the yeare,
He feele one lightning hower,
Then rest he with himselfe,
He is no mate for me;
vvhose time in teares, whose race in ruth,
vvhose life a death must be.
He is no mate for me;
vvhose time in teares, whose race in ruth,
vvhose life a death must be.
Yet not the wished death,
That feeles no plaint or lack:
That making free the better part,
Is onely Natures wrack.
That feeles no plaint or lack:
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Is onely Natures wrack.
O no, that were too well,
My death is of the minde;
That alwayes yeelds extreamest pangues,
Yet threatens worse behinde.
My death is of the minde;
That alwayes yeelds extreamest pangues,
Yet threatens worse behinde.
As one that liues in shewe,
And inwardly dooth die;
vvhose knowledge is a bloody field,
vvhere vertue slaine doth lie.
And inwardly dooth die;
vvhose knowledge is a bloody field,
vvhere vertue slaine doth lie.
VVhose hart the Altar is,
And hoast a God to moue:
From whom my ill doth feare reuenge,
His good doth promise loue.
And hoast a God to moue:
From whom my ill doth feare reuenge,
His good doth promise loue.
My phansies are like thornes,
In which I goe by night;
My frighted wits are like an hoast,
That force hath put to flight.
In which I goe by night;
My frighted wits are like an hoast,
That force hath put to flight.
My sence is passions spie,
My thoughts like ruines olde,
vvhich shew how faire the building was,
vvhile grace did it vpholde.
My thoughts like ruines olde,
vvhich shew how faire the building was,
vvhile grace did it vpholde.
And still before my eyes,
My mortall fall they lay;
VVhom grace and vertue once aduaunc'd,
Now sinne hath cast away.
My mortall fall they lay;
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Now sinne hath cast away.
O thoughts, no thoughts but wounds,
Sometime the seate of ioy,
Sometime the store of quiet rest,
But now of all annoy.
Sometime the seate of ioy,
Sometime the store of quiet rest,
But now of all annoy.
I sow'd the soyle of peace,
My blisse was in the spring;
And day by day the fruite I eate,
That Vertues tree did bring.
My blisse was in the spring;
And day by day the fruite I eate,
That Vertues tree did bring.
To Nettles now my corne,
My field is turn'd to flint;
vvhere I a heauie haruest reape,
Off cares that neuer stint.
My field is turn'd to flint;
vvhere I a heauie haruest reape,
Off cares that neuer stint.
The peace, the rest, the life,
That I enioy'd of yore,
vvere happy lot, but by their losse,
My smart doth sting the more.
That I enioy'd of yore,
vvere happy lot, but by their losse,
My smart doth sting the more.
So to vnhappy men,
The best frames to the worst:
O time, ô place, where thus I fell,
Deere then, but now accurst.
The best frames to the worst:
O time, ô place, where thus I fell,
Deere then, but now accurst.
In was, stands my delight,
In is, and shall my woe,
My horrour fastned in the yea,
My hope hangs in the no.
In is, and shall my woe,
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My hope hangs in the no.
Vnworthy of releefe
That craued it too late;
Too late I finde, (I finde too well)
Too well, stoode my estate.
That craued it too late;
Too late I finde, (I finde too well)
Too well, stoode my estate.
Behold, such is the end,
That pleasure doth procure,
Of nothing else but care and plaint,
Can she the minde assure.
That pleasure doth procure,
Of nothing else but care and plaint,
Can she the minde assure.
Forsaken first by grace,
By pleasure now forgotten,
Her paine I feele, but graces wage,
Haue others from me gotten.
By pleasure now forgotten,
Her paine I feele, but graces wage,
Haue others from me gotten.
Then grace, where is the ioy
That makes thy torments sweete;
VVhere is the cause that many thought,
Their deaths through thee but meete.
That makes thy torments sweete;
VVhere is the cause that many thought,
Their deaths through thee but meete.
VVhere thy disdaine of sinne,
Thy secret sweete delight;
Thy sparks of blisse, thy heauenly ioyes,
That shined erst so bright?
Thy secret sweete delight;
Thy sparks of blisse, thy heauenly ioyes,
That shined erst so bright?
O that they were not lost,
Or I could it excuse;
O that a dreame of fained losse,
My iudgement did abuse.
Or I could it excuse;
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My iudgement did abuse.
O fraile inconstant flesh,
Soone trapt in euery ginne;
Soone wrought thus to betray thy soule,
And plunge thy selfe in sinne.
Soone trapt in euery ginne;
Soone wrought thus to betray thy soule,
And plunge thy selfe in sinne.
Yet hate I but the fault,
And not the faulty one:
Ne can I rid from me the mate,
That forceth me to moane.
And not the faulty one:
Ne can I rid from me the mate,
That forceth me to moane.
To moane a sinners case,
Then which, was neuer worse;
In Prince or poore, in young or olde,
In bliss'd, or full of curse.
Then which, was neuer worse;
In Prince or poore, in young or olde,
In bliss'd, or full of curse.
Yet Gods must I remaine,
By death, by wrong, by shame;
I cannot blot out of my hart,
That grace writ in his name.
By death, by wrong, by shame;
I cannot blot out of my hart,
That grace writ in his name.
I cannot set at naught
vvhom I haue held so deere:
I cannot make him seeme a farre,
That is in deede so neere.
vvhom I haue held so deere:
I cannot make him seeme a farre,
That is in deede so neere.
Not that I looke hence-forth
For loue that earst I found;
Sith that I brake my plighted truth,
To build on fickle ground.
For loue that earst I found;
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To build on fickle ground.
Yet that shall neuer faile,
vvhich my faith bare in hand:
I gaue my vow, my vow gaue me,
Both vow and gift shall stand.
vvhich my faith bare in hand:
I gaue my vow, my vow gaue me,
Both vow and gift shall stand.
But since that I haue sinn'd,
And scourge none is too ill;
I yeeld me captiue to my curse,
My hard fate to fulfill.
And scourge none is too ill;
I yeeld me captiue to my curse,
My hard fate to fulfill.
The solitarie VVood
My Cittie shall become,
The darkest dennes shall be my Lodge,
In which I rest or come.
My Cittie shall become,
The darkest dennes shall be my Lodge,
In which I rest or come.
A sandie plot my board,
The wormes my feast shall be,
vvhere-with my carcasse shall be fed,
Vntill they feede on me.
The wormes my feast shall be,
vvhere-with my carcasse shall be fed,
Vntill they feede on me.
My teares shall be my wine,
My bed a craggy Rock;
My harmonie the Serpents hisse,
The screeching Owle my clock.
My bed a craggy Rock;
My harmonie the Serpents hisse,
The screeching Owle my clock.
My exercise remorse,
And dolefull sinners layes,
My booke remembrance of my crimes,
And faults of former dayes.
And dolefull sinners layes,
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And faults of former dayes.
My walke the path of plaint,
My prospect into hell;
vvhere Iudas and his cursed crue,
In endlesse paines doe dwell.
My prospect into hell;
vvhere Iudas and his cursed crue,
In endlesse paines doe dwell.
And though I seeme to vse
The faining Poets stile,
To figure forth my carefull plight,
My fall, and my exile:
The faining Poets stile,
To figure forth my carefull plight,
My fall, and my exile:
Yet is my greefe not fain'd,
vvherein I starue and pine,
vvho feeles the most, shall think it least,
If his compare with mine.
vvherein I starue and pine,
vvho feeles the most, shall think it least,
If his compare with mine.
Dauids Peccaui.
In eaues, sole Sparrowe sits not more alone,
Nor mourning Pellican in Desert wilde:
Then silly I, that solitarie mone,
From highest hopes to hardest hap exilde:
Sometime (ô blisfull time) was vertues meede,
Ayme to my thoughts, guide to my word and deede.
Nor mourning Pellican in Desert wilde:
Then silly I, that solitarie mone,
From highest hopes to hardest hap exilde:
Sometime (ô blisfull time) was vertues meede,
Ayme to my thoughts, guide to my word and deede.
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But feares are now my Pheares, griefe my delight,
My teares my drink, my famisht thoughts my bread;
Day full of dumps, Nurse of vnrest the night,
my garments gyues, a bloody field my bed,
My sleepe is rather death, then deaths allie,
Yet kill'd with murd'ring pangues, I cannot die.
My teares my drink, my famisht thoughts my bread;
Day full of dumps, Nurse of vnrest the night,
my garments gyues, a bloody field my bed,
My sleepe is rather death, then deaths allie,
Yet kill'd with murd'ring pangues, I cannot die.
This is the chaunce of my ill changed choyse,
Ruth for my rest, for comforts cares I finde;
To pleasant tunes succeedes a plaining voyce,
The dolefull ecchoe of my wayling minde:
VVhich taught to know the worth of vertues ioyes,
Doth hate it selfe for louing fancies toyes.
Ruth for my rest, for comforts cares I finde;
To pleasant tunes succeedes a plaining voyce,
The dolefull ecchoe of my wayling minde:
VVhich taught to know the worth of vertues ioyes,
Doth hate it selfe for louing fancies toyes.
If wiles of wit had ouer-wrought my will,
Or subtle traines misled my steppes awrie,
My foile had found excuse in want of skill,
Ill deede I might, though not ill doome denie:
But wit and will must now confesse with shame,
Both deede and doome, to haue deserued blame.
Or subtle traines misled my steppes awrie,
My foile had found excuse in want of skill,
Ill deede I might, though not ill doome denie:
But wit and will must now confesse with shame,
Both deede and doome, to haue deserued blame.
I Fansie deem'd fit guide to leade my way,
And as I deem'd, I did pursue her track;
VVit lost his ayme, and will was Fancies pray,
The Rebels wan, the Rulers went to wrack:
But now sith fansie did with folly end,
VVit bought with losse, will taught by wit, will mend.
And as I deem'd, I did pursue her track;
VVit lost his ayme, and will was Fancies pray,
The Rebels wan, the Rulers went to wrack:
But now sith fansie did with folly end,
VVit bought with losse, will taught by wit, will mend.
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Sinnes heauie loade.
O Lord my sinnes doth ouer-charge thy brest,
The poyse thereof doth force thy knees to bow;
Yea flat thou fallest with my faults opprest,
And bloody sweat runs trickling from thy brow:
But had they not to earth thus pressed thee,
Much more they would in hell haue pestred mee.
The poyse thereof doth force thy knees to bow;
Yea flat thou fallest with my faults opprest,
And bloody sweat runs trickling from thy brow:
But had they not to earth thus pressed thee,
Much more they would in hell haue pestred mee.
This Globe of earth doth thy one finger prop,
The world thou doo'st within thy hand embrace;
Yet all this waight of sweat drew not a drop,
Ne made thee bow, much lesse fall on thy face:
But now thou hast a loade so heauy found,
That makes thee bow, yea fall flat to the ground.
The world thou doo'st within thy hand embrace;
Yet all this waight of sweat drew not a drop,
Ne made thee bow, much lesse fall on thy face:
But now thou hast a loade so heauy found,
That makes thee bow, yea fall flat to the ground.
O sinne, how huge and heauie is thy waight,
That wayest more then all the world beside?
Of which when Christ had taken in his fraight
The poyse thereof his flesh could not abide;
Alas, if God himselfe sinke vnder sinne,
vvhat will become of man that dies therein.
That wayest more then all the world beside?
Of which when Christ had taken in his fraight
The poyse thereof his flesh could not abide;
Alas, if God himselfe sinke vnder sinne,
vvhat will become of man that dies therein.
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First, flat thou fel'st, when earth did thee receaue,
In closet pure of Maries virgin brest;
And now thou fall'st of earth to take thy leaue,
Thou kissest it as cause of thy vnrest:
O louing Lord that so doost loue thy foe,
As thus to kisse the ground where he doth goe.
In closet pure of Maries virgin brest;
And now thou fall'st of earth to take thy leaue,
Thou kissest it as cause of thy vnrest:
O louing Lord that so doost loue thy foe,
As thus to kisse the ground where he doth goe.
Thou minded in thy heauen our earth to weare,
Doo'st prostrate now thy heauen our earth to blisse;
As God, to earth thou often wert seuere,
As man, thou call'st a peace with bleeding kisse:
For as of soules thou common Father art,
So is she Mother of mans other part.
Doo'st prostrate now thy heauen our earth to blisse;
As God, to earth thou often wert seuere,
As man, thou call'st a peace with bleeding kisse:
For as of soules thou common Father art,
So is she Mother of mans other part.
She shortly was to drink thy dearest blood,
And yeeld thy soule away to sathans caue;
She shortly was thy corse in tombe to shrowd,
And with them all thy deitie to haue:
Now then in me thou ioyntly yeeldest all,
That seuerally to earth should shortly fall.
And yeeld thy soule away to sathans caue;
She shortly was thy corse in tombe to shrowd,
And with them all thy deitie to haue:
Now then in me thou ioyntly yeeldest all,
That seuerally to earth should shortly fall.
O prostrate Christ, erect my crooked minde,
Lord let thy fall my flight from earth obtaine;
Or if I needes must still in earth be shrinde,
Then Lord on earth come fall yet once againe:
And eyther yeeld in earth with me to lie,
Or else with thee to take me to the skie.
Lord let thy fall my flight from earth obtaine;
Or if I needes must still in earth be shrinde,
Then Lord on earth come fall yet once againe:
And eyther yeeld in earth with me to lie,
Or else with thee to take me to the skie.
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Iosephs Amazement.
When Christ by growth disclosed his desent,
Into the pure receipt of Maries brest;
Poore Ioseph stranger yet to Gods intent,
vvith doubts of iealous thoughts was sore opprest:
And wrought with diuers fits of feare and loue,
He neither can her free, nor faulty proue.
Into the pure receipt of Maries brest;
Poore Ioseph stranger yet to Gods intent,
vvith doubts of iealous thoughts was sore opprest:
And wrought with diuers fits of feare and loue,
He neither can her free, nor faulty proue.
Now since the wakefull spie of iealous minde,
By strong coniectures deemeth her defilde;
But loue in doome of things best loued blinde,
Thinks rather sence deceau'd, then her with childe:
Yet proofes so pregnant were, that no pretence
Could cloake a thing so cleare and plaine to sence,
By strong coniectures deemeth her defilde;
But loue in doome of things best loued blinde,
Thinks rather sence deceau'd, then her with childe:
Yet proofes so pregnant were, that no pretence
Could cloake a thing so cleare and plaine to sence,
Then Ioseph daunted with a deadly wound,
Let loose the raines of vndeserued griefe,
His hart did throb, his eyes in teares were drownd,
His life a losse, death seem'd his best reliefe:
The pleasing rellish of his former loue,
In gaulish thoughts to bitter tast doth proue.
Let loose the raines of vndeserued griefe,
His hart did throb, his eyes in teares were drownd,
His life a losse, death seem'd his best reliefe:
The pleasing rellish of his former loue,
In gaulish thoughts to bitter tast doth proue.
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One foote he often setteth out of dore,
But t'other loath vncertaine wayes to tread;
He takes his fardle for his needefull store,
He casts his Inne where first he meanes to bed:
But still ere he can frame his feete to goe,
Loue winneth time, till all conclude in no.
But t'other loath vncertaine wayes to tread;
He takes his fardle for his needefull store,
He casts his Inne where first he meanes to bed:
But still ere he can frame his feete to goe,
Loue winneth time, till all conclude in no.
Sometimes griefe adding force he doth depart,
He will against his will keepe on his pace;
But straight remorse so racks his raging hart,
That hasting thoughts yeeld to a pausing pace:
Then mighty reasons presse him to remaine,
She whom he flies doth winne him home againe.
He will against his will keepe on his pace;
But straight remorse so racks his raging hart,
That hasting thoughts yeeld to a pausing pace:
Then mighty reasons presse him to remaine,
She whom he flies doth winne him home againe.
But when his thought by sight of his aboade,
Presents the signe of misesteemed shame;
Repenting euery step that back he troade,
Teares done, the guides, the tong, the feet doth blame:
Thus warring with himselfe a field he fights,
vvhere euery wound vpon the giuer lights.
Presents the signe of misesteemed shame;
Repenting euery step that back he troade,
Teares done, the guides, the tong, the feet doth blame:
Thus warring with himselfe a field he fights,
vvhere euery wound vpon the giuer lights.
And was (quoth he) my loue so lightly pris'd,
Or was our sacred league so soone forgot;
Could vowes be voyd, could vertues be dispis'd;
Could such a spouse be stain'd with such a spot:
O wretched Ioseph that hath liu'd so long,
Of faithfull loue to reape so greeuous wrong.
Or was our sacred league so soone forgot;
Could vowes be voyd, could vertues be dispis'd;
Could such a spouse be stain'd with such a spot:
O wretched Ioseph that hath liu'd so long,
Of faithfull loue to reape so greeuous wrong.
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Could such a worme breed in so sweet a vvood,
Could in so chast demeanure lurke vntruth;
Could vice lie hid where Vertues image stood,
vvhere hoarie sagenesse graced tender youth:
vvhere can affiance rest to rest secure,
In vertues fairest seate faith is not sure.
Could in so chast demeanure lurke vntruth;
Could vice lie hid where Vertues image stood,
vvhere hoarie sagenesse graced tender youth:
vvhere can affiance rest to rest secure,
In vertues fairest seate faith is not sure.
All proofes did promise hope a pledge of grace,
vvhose good might haue repay'd the deepest ill;
Sweet signes of purest thoughts in saintly face,
Assur'd the eye of her vnstayned will,
Yet in this seeming lustre, seeme to lie,
Such crimes for which the law condemnes to die.
vvhose good might haue repay'd the deepest ill;
Sweet signes of purest thoughts in saintly face,
Assur'd the eye of her vnstayned will,
Yet in this seeming lustre, seeme to lie,
Such crimes for which the law condemnes to die.
But Iosephs word shall neuer worke her woe,
I wish her leaue to liue, not doome to die;
Though fortune mine, yet am I not her foe,
She to her selfe lesse louing is then I:
The most I will, the least I can is this,
Sith none may salue, to shunne that is amisse.
I wish her leaue to liue, not doome to die;
Though fortune mine, yet am I not her foe,
She to her selfe lesse louing is then I:
The most I will, the least I can is this,
Sith none may salue, to shunne that is amisse.
Exile my home, the wildes shall be my walke,
Complaint my ioy, my musick mourning layes;
vvith pensiue griefes in silence will I talke,
Sad thoughts shall be my guides in sorrowes wayes:
This course best sutes the care of carelesse minde,
That seekes to loose, what most it ioy'd to finde.
Complaint my ioy, my musick mourning layes;
vvith pensiue griefes in silence will I talke,
Sad thoughts shall be my guides in sorrowes wayes:
This course best sutes the care of carelesse minde,
That seekes to loose, what most it ioy'd to finde.
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Like stocked tree whose branches all doe fade,
vvhose leaues doe fall, and perisht fruite decay;
Like hearbe that growes in cold and barren shade,
vvhere darknes driues all quickning heate away:
So die must I, cut from my roote of ioy,
And throwne in darkest shades of deepe annoy.
vvhose leaues doe fall, and perisht fruite decay;
Like hearbe that growes in cold and barren shade,
vvhere darknes driues all quickning heate away:
So die must I, cut from my roote of ioy,
And throwne in darkest shades of deepe annoy.
But who can flie from that his hart doth feele?
vvhat change of place can change implanted paine?
Remouing, moues no hardnes from the steele,
Sicke harts that shift no fits, shift roomes in vaine:
vvhere thought can see, what helps the closed eye?
VVhere hart pursues, what gaines the foote to flie?
vvhat change of place can change implanted paine?
Remouing, moues no hardnes from the steele,
Sicke harts that shift no fits, shift roomes in vaine:
vvhere thought can see, what helps the closed eye?
VVhere hart pursues, what gaines the foote to flie?
Yet still I tread a maze of doubtfull ende;
I goe, I come, she drawes, she driues away,
She wounds, she heales, she doth both marre and mende,
She makes me seeke, and shunne, depart, and stay:
She is a friend to loue, a foe to loth,
And in suspence I hang betweene them both.
I goe, I come, she drawes, she driues away,
She wounds, she heales, she doth both marre and mende,
She makes me seeke, and shunne, depart, and stay:
She is a friend to loue, a foe to loth,
And in suspence I hang betweene them both.
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New Prince, new pompe.
Behold a silly tender Babe,in freesing VVinter night;
In homely manger trembling lies,
Alas a pitteous sight:
The Innes are full, no man will yeeld,
This little Pilgrime bed;
But forc'd he is with silly beasts,
In Crib to shrowd his head.
Despise him not for lying there,
First what he is enquire:
As orient pearle is often found,
In depth of dirty mire,
VVaigh not his Crib, his wooden dish,
Nor beasts that by him feede:
VVaigh not his Mothers poore attire,
Nor Iosephs simple weede.
This stable is a Princes Court,
The Crib his chaire of state:
The beasts are parcell of his pompe,
The wooden dish his plate.
The persons in that poore attire,
His royall liuories weare,
The Prince himselfe is com'd from heauen,
This pompe is prized there.
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Doe homage to thy King;
And highly praise his humble pompe,
vvhich he from heauen dooth bring.
The burning Babe.
As I in hoarie Winters night stoode shiuering in the snow,Surpris'd I was with sodaine heate, which made my hart to glow;
And lifting vp a fearefull eye, to view what fire was neare,
A pretty Babe all burning bright did in the ayre appeare;
Who scorched with excessiue heate, such floods of teares did shed,
As though his floods should quench his flames, which with his teares were bred:
Alas (quoth he) but newly borne, in fierie heates I frie,
Yet none approach to warme their harts or seele my fire, but I;
My faultlesse breast the furnace is, the fuell wounding thornes:
Loue is the fire, and sighs the smoake, the ashes, shames and scornes;
The fewell Iustice layeth on, and Mercie blowes the coales,
The mettall in this furnace wrought, are mens defiled soules:
For which, as now on fire I am to worke them to their good,
So will I melt into a bath, to wash them in my blood.
With this he vanisht out of sight, and swiftly shrunk away,
And straight I called vnto minde, that it was Christmasse day.
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New heauen, new warre.
Come to your heauen you heauenly quires,
Earth hath the heauen of your desires;
Remoue your dwelling to your God,
A stall is now his best abode;
Sith men their homage doe denie,
Come Angels all their fault supplie.
Earth hath the heauen of your desires;
Remoue your dwelling to your God,
A stall is now his best abode;
Sith men their homage doe denie,
Come Angels all their fault supplie.
His chilling cold doth heate require,
Come Seraphins in liew of fire;
This little Arke no couer hath,
Let Cherubs wings his body swath:
Come Raphaell, this Babe must eate,
Prouide our little Tobie meate.
Come Seraphins in liew of fire;
This little Arke no couer hath,
Let Cherubs wings his body swath:
Come Raphaell, this Babe must eate,
Prouide our little Tobie meate.
Let Gabriell be now his groome,
That first tooke vp his earthly roome;
Let Michaell stand in his defence,
vvhom loue hath linck'd to feeble sence,
Let Graces rock when he doth crie,
Let Angels sing his lullabie.
That first tooke vp his earthly roome;
Let Michaell stand in his defence,
vvhom loue hath linck'd to feeble sence,
Let Graces rock when he doth crie,
Let Angels sing his lullabie.
76
The same you saw in heauenly seate,
Is he that now sucks Maries teate;
Agnize your King a mortall wight,
His borrowed weede lets not your sight:
Come kisse the maunger where he lies,
That is your blisse aboue the skies.
Is he that now sucks Maries teate;
Agnize your King a mortall wight,
His borrowed weede lets not your sight:
Come kisse the maunger where he lies,
That is your blisse aboue the skies.
This little Babe so few dayes olde,
Is com'd to ryfle sathans folde;
All hell doth at his presence quake,
Though he himselfe for cold doe shake:
For in this weake vnarmed wise,
The gates of hell he will surprise.
Is com'd to ryfle sathans folde;
All hell doth at his presence quake,
Though he himselfe for cold doe shake:
For in this weake vnarmed wise,
The gates of hell he will surprise.
VVith teares he fights and winnes the field,
His naked breast stands for a shield;
His battering shot are babish cryes,
His Arrowes lookes of weeping eyes,
His Martiall ensignes cold and neede,
And feeble flesh his vvarriers steede.
His naked breast stands for a shield;
His battering shot are babish cryes,
His Arrowes lookes of weeping eyes,
His Martiall ensignes cold and neede,
And feeble flesh his vvarriers steede.
His Campe is pitched in a stall,
His bulwarke but a broken wall:
The Crib his trench, hay stalks his stakes,
Of Sheepheards he his Muster makes;
And thus as sure his foe to wound,
The Angells trumps alarum sound.
His bulwarke but a broken wall:
The Crib his trench, hay stalks his stakes,
Of Sheepheards he his Muster makes;
And thus as sure his foe to wound,
The Angells trumps alarum sound.
77
My soule with Christ ioyne thou in fight,
Stick to the tents that he hath dight;
VVithin his Crib is surest ward,
This little Babe will be thy guard:
If thou wilt foyle thy foes with ioy,
Then flit not from the heauenly boy.
Stick to the tents that he hath dight;
VVithin his Crib is surest ward,
This little Babe will be thy guard:
If thou wilt foyle thy foes with ioy,
Then flit not from the heauenly boy.
| Saint Peters complaint | |