Elegy VII. Youth, full of error! whither dost thou hail me?

Barnabe Barnes (1569?–1609)

YOUTH, full of error! whither dost thou hail me?

Down to the dungeon of mine own conceit!

Let me, before, take some divine receipt;

For well I know, my Gaoler will not bail me!

Then, if thou favour not, all helps will fail me!

That fearful dungeon, poisoned with Despair,

Affords no casement to receive sweet air;

There, ugly visions ever will appall me,

Vain Youth misguideth soon, with Love’s deceit!

Deeming false paintèd looks most firmly fair.

Now to remorseless judges must I sue

For gracious pardon; whiles they do repeat

Your bold presumption! threatening me, with you!

Yet am I innocent, though none bewail me!

Ah, pardon! pardon! Childish Youth did view

Those two forbidden apples, which they wished for!

And children long for that, which once they rue.

Suffice, he found Repentance! which he fished for,

With great expense of baits and golden hooks.

Those living apples do the suit pursue!

And are you Judges? See their angry looks!

Where, underneath that wrathful canopy,

They use to open their condemning books!

Expect now, nothing but extremity!

Since they be Judges, and in their own cause

Their sights are fixed on nought but cruelty:

Ruling with rigour, as they list! their laws.

O grant some pity! (placed in Pity’s Hall!)

Since our Forefather (for the like offence)

With us, received sufficient recompense

For two fair apples, which secured his fall.