Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
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A01612
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The translation of certaine psalmes into English verse by the Right Honourable, Francis Lo. Verulam, Viscount St. Alban.
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Bacon, Francis, 1561-1626.
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1625
(1625)
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STC 1174; ESTC S650
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5,423
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22
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THE TRANSLATION OF CERTAINE PSALMES INTO ENGLISH VERSE BY THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE Francis Lo. VERVLAM Viscount St. ALBAN LONDON Printed for Hanna Barret and Richard Whittaker and are to be sold at the signe of the Kings Head in Pauls Church-yard 1625. TO HIS VERY GOOD FREND Mr. GEORGE HERBERT THE paines that it pleased you to take about some of my Writings I cannot forget which did put mee in minde to dedicate to you this poore Exercise of my sicknesse Besides it being my manner for Dedications to choose those that I hold most fit for the Argument I thought that in respect of Diuinitie and Poesie met whereof the one is the Matter the other the Stile of this little Writing I could not make better choice So with signification of my Loue and Acknowledgement I euer rest Your affectionate Frend FR St ALBAN THE TRANSLATION OF The first Psalme WHo neuer gaue to wicked read A yeelding and attentiue eare Who neuer Sinners paths did tread Nor sate him downe in Scorners chaire But maketh it his whole delight On Law of God to meditate And therein spendeth day and Night That Man is in a happie State He shall be like the fruitfull Tree Planted along a running Spring Which in due season constantly A goodly yeeld of Fruit doth bring Whose leaues continue alwaies greene And are no prey to winters power So shall that Man not once be seene Surprized with an euill Hower With Wicked Men it is not so Their Lot is of another kinde All as the Chaffe which too and fro Is tost at Mercie of the winde And when he shall in Iudgment plead A casting Sentence bide he must So shall he not lift vp his Head In the Assembly of the Iust. For why the Lord hath Speciall Eye To be the Godlies stay at call And hath giuen ouer righteously The wicked Man to take his fall The Translation of the 12. Psalme HElpe Lord for godly Men haue took their flight And left the Earth to be the Wicked's Den Not one that standeth fast to Truth and Right But feares or seekes to please the Eies of Men. When one with other fall's in talke apart Their meaning goeth not with their words in proofe But faire they flatter with a clouen Heart By pleasing words to worke their owne behoofe But God cut off the Lips that are all set To trap the harmlesse Soule that peace hath vow'd And pierce the Tongues that seeke to counterfet The Confidence of Truth by lying loud Yet so they thinke to reigne and worke their will By subtill Speech which enter's euery where And say Our Tongues are ours to helpe vs still What need wee any Higher Power to feare Now for the bitter sighing of the poore The Lord hath said I will no more forbeare The Wicked's Kingdome to inuade and scoure And set at large the Men restrain'd in feare And sure the Word of God is pure and fine And in the triall neuer looseth waight Like Noble Gold which since it left the Mine Hath seuen times passed through the fiery straight And now thou wilt not first thy word forsake Nor yet the Righteous man that leanes theretoo But will 't his safe Protection vndertake In spight of all their force and wiles can doe And time it is ô Lord thou didst draw nigh The Wicked daily doe enlarge their Bands And that which makes them follow ill a vie Rule is betaken to vnworthy Hands The Translation of the 90. Psalme OLord thou art our Home to whom we fly And so hast alwaies beene from Age to Age. Before the Hills did intercept the Eye Or that the Frame was vp of Earthly Stage One God thou wert and art and still shalt bee The Line of Time it doth not measure thee Both Death and Life obey thy holy lore And visit in their turnes as they are sent A Thousand yeares with thee they are no more Then yesterday which ereit is is spent Or as a watch by night that course doth keepe And goes and comes vnwares to them that sleepe Thou carriest Man away as with a Tide Then downe swim all his Thoughts that mounted high Much like a mocking Dreame that will not bide But flies before the sight of waking Eye Or as the Grasse that cannot terme obtaine To see the Summer come about againe At Morning faire it musters on the Ground At Euen it is cut downe and laid along And though it spared were and fauour found The wether would performe the Mowers wrong Thus hast thou hang dour Life on brittle Pins To let vs know it will not beare our Sins Thou buriest not within obliuious Tombe Our Trespasses but entrest them aright Euen those that are conceiu'd in darkenesse Wombe To thee appeare as done at broad day light As a Tale told which sometimes men attend And sometimes not our Life steales to an end The Life of Man is threescore yeares and ten Or if that he be strong perhaps fourescore Yet all things are but labour to him then New sorrowes still come on Pleasures no more Why should there be such turmoile such strife To spin in length this feeble Line of Life But who consider's duely of thine Ire Or doth the thoughts thereof wisely embrace For thou O God art a consuming Fire Fraile Man how can he stand before thy face If thy displeasure thou do'st not refraine A Moment brings all backe to Dust againe Teath vs O Lord to number well our Daies Thereby our Hearts to wisdome to apply For that which guides Man best in all his waies Is Meditation of Mortality This bubble light this vapour of our Breath Teach vs to consecrate to Howre of Death Returne vnto vs Lord and ballance now With daies of Ioy our daies of Misery Helpe vs right soone our knees to thee we bow Depending wholy on thy Clemency Then shall thy Seruants both with heart voice All the daies of their Life in thee reioyce Begin thy worke O Lord in this our Age Shew it vnto thy Seruants that now liue But to our Children raise it many a Stage That all the World to thee may glory giue Our Handy worke likewise as fruitfull Tree Let it O Lord blessed not blasted be The Translation of the 104. Psalme Father and King of Powers both high and low Whose sounding Fame all creatures serue to blow My Soule shall with the rest strike vp thy praise And Caroll of thy workes and wondrous wayes But who can blaze thy Beauties Lord aright They turne the brittle Beames of mortall sight Vpon thy head thou wear'st a glorious Crowne All set with vertues polisht with renowne Thence round about a Siluer Vaile doth fall Of Chrystall Light Mother of Colours all The Compasse heauen smooth without graine or fold All set with Spangs of glitt'ring Stars vntold And stript with golden Beames of power vnpent Is raised vp for a remouing Tent. Vaulted and arched are his Chamber Beames Vpon the Seas the Waters and the streames The Clouds as Chariots