Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Edward Farr, ed. Select Poetry of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. 1845.

Psalme LXXVII

VI. Sir Philip Sidney and the Countess of Pembroke

TO thee my crying call,

To thee my calling cry,

I did, O God, addresse,

And thou didst me attend:

To nightly anguish thrall,

From thee I sought redresse;

To thee unceassantly

Did praying handes extend.

All comfort fled my soule;

Yea, God to mind I call’d:

Yet calling God to mynde

My thoughts could not appease:

Nought els but bitter dole

Could I in thincking finde:

My sprite with paine appal’d

Could entertaine no ease.

Whole troupes of busy cares,

Of cares that from thee came,

Tooke up their restlesse rest

In sleepie sleeplesse eies:

Soe lay I all opprest,

My hart in office lame;

My tongue as lamely fares;

No part his part supplies.

At length, with turned thought,

Anew I fell to thinck

Upon the auncient tymes,

Upon the yeares of old

Yea, to my mynd was brought,

And in my hart did sinck,

What in my former rimes

My self of thee had told.

Loe, then to search the truth

I sent my thoughts abroade:

Meane while my silent hart

Distracted thus did plaine:

Will God no more take ruth?

No further love impart?

No longer be my God?

Unmoved still remayne?

Are all the conduites dry

Of his erst flowing grace?

Could rusty teeth of tyme

To nought his promise turne?

Can mercy no more clyme

And come before his face?

Must all compassion dy?

Must nought but anger burne?

Then lo, my wrack I see—

Say I, and do I know

That change lies in his hand

Who changelesse sitts aloft?

Can I ought understand,

And yet unmindfull be,

What wonders from hym flow?

What workes his will hath wrought?

Nay, still thy acts I minde;

Still of thy deedes I muse;

Still see thy glorie’s light

Within thy temple shine.

What God can any find

(For tearme them so they use)

Whose majesty, whose might,

May strive, O God, with thine?

Thou only wonders dost;

The wonders by thee done

All earth do wonder make:

As when thy hand of old

From servitude unjust

Both Jacob’s sonnes did take,

And sonnes of Jacob’s sonne

Whom Jacob’s sonnes had sold.

The waves thee saw; saw thee,

And fearefull fledd the field:

The deepe, with panting brest,

Engulphed quaking lay:

The cloudes thy fingers prest

Did rushing rivers yield;

Thy shaftes did flaming flee

Through fiery airy way.

Thy voice’s thundring crash

From one to other pole,

Twixt roofe of starry sphere

And earth’s then trembling flore,

While light of lightning’s flash

Did pitchy cloudes encleare,

Did round with terror role,

And rattling horror rore.

Meane while through duskie deepe

On sea’s discovered bed,

Where none thy trace could view,

A path by thee was wrought:

A path whereon thy crew,

As shepherds use their sheepe,

Moses and Aron ledd,

And to glad pastures brought.