 | The Love of King David And Fair Bethsabe |  |
Prologus.
Of Israels sweetest singer now I sing,His holy stile and happie victories,
Whose Muse was dipt in that inspiring deaw,
Arch-angels stilled from the breath of Ioue,
Decking her temples with the glorious flowers,
Heauens raind on tops of Syon and Mount Synai,
Vpon the bosome of his yuorie Lute,
The Cherubins and Angels laid their brests,
And when his consecrated fingers strooke
The golden wiers of his rauishing harpe,
He gaue alarum to the host of heauen,
That wing'd with lightning, brake the clouds and cast
Their christall armor, at his conquering feet.
Of this sweet Poet Ioues Musition,
And of bis beauteous sonne I prease to sing.
Then helpe deuine Adonay to conduct,
Vpon the wings of my well tempered verse,
The hearers minds aboue the towers of Heauen,
And guide them so in this thrice haughty flight,
Their mounting feathers scorch not with the fire,
That none can temper but thy holy hand:
To thee for succour flies my feeble muse,
And at thy feet her yron Pendoth vse.
| The Love of King David And Fair Bethsabe | |