TO HIS VERY GOOD FRIEND MR. GEORGE HERBERT. THE pains that it pleased you to take about some of my writings I cannot forget; which did put me in mind to dedicate to you this poor exercise of my sickness. Besides, it being my manner for dedications, to choose those that I hold most fit for the argument, I thought that in respect of divinity and poesy 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 love and acknowledgment, I ever rest Your affectionate Friend, FR. ST. ALBAN. Τε A TRANSLATION OF CERTAIN PSALMS THE TRANSLATION OF THE IST PSALM. WHO never gave to wicked reed A yielding and attentive ear; Who never sinner's paths did tread, Nor sat him down in scorner's chair; He shall be like the fruitful tree, A goodly yield of fruit doth bring: And are no prey to winter's pow'r: With wicked men it is not so, So shall he not lift up his head For why? the Lord hath special eye THE TRANSLATION OF THE XIITH PSALM. HELP, Lord, for godly men have took their flight, When one with other falls in talk apart, Their meaning go'th not with their words, in proof; But fair they flatter, with a cloven heart, By pleasing words, to work their own behoof. But God cut off the lips, that are all set To trap the harmless soul, that peace hath vow'd; And pierce the tongues, that seek to counterfeit The confidence of truth, by lying loud: Yet so they think to reign, and work their will By subtile speech, which enters ev'ry where; And say, Our tongues are ours, to help us still; What need we any higher pow'r to fear? Now for the bitter sighing of the poor, The Lord hath said, I will no more forbear The wicked's kingdom to invade and scour, And set at large the men restrain'd in fear. And sure the word of God is pure and fine, And in the trial never loseth weight; Like noble gold, which, since it left the mine, Hath seven times passed through the fiery strait. And now thou wilt not first thy word forsake, In spite of all their force and wiles can do. And time it is, O Lord, thou didst draw nigh; THE TRANSLATION OF THE XCTH PSALM. O LORD, thou art our home, to whom we fly, Or that the frame was up of earthly stage, One God thou wert, and art, and still shall be; Both death and life obey thy holy lore, Or as a watch by night, that course doth keep, Thou carriest man away as with a tide: Then down swim all his thoughts that mounted high : Or as the grass, that cannot term obtain At morning, fair it musters on the ground; Thou buriest not within oblivion's tomb As a tale told, which sometimes men attend, |