Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

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

Psalm LXXII

XXI. Abraham Fraunce

GOD, th’ æternal God, noe doubt is good to the godly,

Giuing grace to the pure, and mercy to Israel holy:

And yet, alas! my feete, my faynte feet gan to be slyding,

And I was almost gone and fall’n to a dangerous error.

For my soul did grudg, my hart consumed in anger,

And myne eyes disdayng’d, when I saw that such men abounded

With wealth, health, and joy, whose myndes with myschif abounded,

Theyr body stowt and strong, theyr lyms still lyuely apearing,

Neyther feare any panges of death, nor feele any sicknes:

Some still mourne, they laughe: some lyue unfortunate euer,

They for ioy doe triumphe, and taste aduersity neuer;

Which makes them with pryde, with scornful pryde to be chayned,

And with blood-thirsting disdaigne as a roabe to be cou’red.

Tush! say they, can God from the highest heauens to the lowest

Earth vouchsaulf, thinck you, those prince-like eyes be bowing?

’Tis but a vaine conceipt of fooles to be fondly referring

Euery jesting trick and trifling toy to the Thundrer:

For loe these be the men whoe rule and reign with aboundance;

These, and who but these? Why then, what meane I to lift up

Cleane handes and pure hart to the heu’ns? what meane I to offer

Praise and thanksgeuing to the Lord? what meane I to suffer

Such plagues with patience? Yea, and almost had I spoken

Euen as they did speake, which thought noe God to be guyding.

But soe should I, alas! haue iudged thy folk to be luckless,

Thy sons forsaken, thy saints vnworthily haples.

Thus did I thinck and muse, and search what might be the matter:

But yet I could not, alas! conceaue so hidden a woonder,

Vntil I left myself, and all my thoughts did abandon,

And to thy sacred place, to thy sanctuary, lastly repayred.

There did I see, O Lord, these men’s vnfortunate endings;

Endings mute, and fit for their vngodly beginnings.

Then did I see how they did stand in slippery places,

Lifted aloft, that their downefalling might be the greater.

Lyving Lord, how soone is this theyr glory triumphant

Dasht, confounded, gone, drownd in destruction endless!

Their fame’s soone outworne, theyr names extinct in a moment,

Lyke to a dreame, that lyues by a sleep, and dyes with a slumber.

—Thus my soule did greeue, my hart did languish in anguish;

Soe blynde were myne eyes, my minde soe plunged in error,

That noe more than a beast did I know this mystery sacred.

Yet thou heldst my hande, and kepst my soule from the dungeon;

Thou didst guyde my feete, and me with glory receauedst.

For what in heau’n or in earth shall I loue, or woorthyly wonder,

But my most good God, my Lord and mighty Jehova?

Though my flesh oft faint, my hart’s oft drowned in horror,

God neuer fayleth, but will be my mighty protector.

Such as God forsake, and take to a slippery comfort,

Trust to a broken staffe, and taste of woorthy reuengement.

In my God, therefore, my trust is wholly reposed,

And his name wil I praise, and sing his glory renowmed.