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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.

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;
But maketh it his whole delight
On law of God to meditate,

And therein spendeth day and night:
That man is in a happy state.

He shall be like the fruitful tree,
Planted along a running spring,
Which, in due season, constantly

A goodly yield of fruit doth bring:
Whose leaves continue always green,

And are no prey to winter's pow'r:
So shall that man not once be seen

Surprised with an evil hour.

With wicked men it is not so,

Their lot is of another kind:
All as the chaff, which to and fro
Is toss'd at mercy of the wind.
And when he shall in judgment plead,
A casting sentence bide he must:
So shall he not lift up his head
In the assembly of the just.

For why? the Lord hath special eye
To be the godly's stay at call:
And hath given over, righteously,
The wicked man to take his fall.

THE TRANSLATION OF THE XIITH PSALM.

HELP, Lord, for godly men have took their flight,
And left the earth to be the wicked's den:

Not one that standeth fast to truth and right,
But fears, or seeks to please, the eyes of men.
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,
Nor yet the righteous man that leans thereto;
But wilt his safe protection undertake,

In spite of all their force and wiles can do.
And time it is, O Lord, thou didst draw nigh;

The wicked daily do enlarge their bands; And that which makes them follow ill a vie, Rule is betaken to unworthy hands.

THE TRANSLATION OF THE XCтн PSALM.

◇ LORD, thou art our home, to whom we fly, And so hast always been from age to age: Before the hills did intercept the eye,

Or that the frame was up of earthly stage,

One God thou wert, and art, and still shall be ;

The line of Time, it doth not measure thee.

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