IX.

SIR JOHN HARINGTON.

PSALM CXII.

WHO feare the Lord are trewly blest,
That dewly worke to doe his will:
Great lands are by his seed possesst;
His howse, his heires, shall prosper still.
With plenty God shall blesse his store,
And stay his state, that loveth right:
Yf darkenes come, yet evermore

The Lord shall lend him happy light.
His love, his mercie, hee bestowes

On him that saves the poore from wrong, And gives, and lends, and kindnes shewes, Yet still discreetly guides his tongue. His memorie shall ever bide;

Yea, though in grave his bones be layd, His foote shall never fayle or slyde; No news shall make his hart affrayd. He putts in God assured trust;

And trusting so, hee doth suppose
They need not shrink whose cause is just-
He shall prevayle against his foes.
Hee doth in hast, but not in wast,
His goods disperse to such as need;

His righteousness shall ever last,
His praise and honor shall exceed.

The wicked man, when he this seeth,

That God the good doth love and cherish, Shall pyne for griefe and gnash his teethHis wicked thoughts with him shall perish.

PSALM CXXXVII.

By Babell's brooks we sitt and weep,
O Sion, when on thee we think;
Our harps hang'd upp doe sylence keep
On trees along the river's brink:
Yet they that thralle us thus by wrong,
Amid our sorrowes aske a song.

Come, sing us now a song, say they,
As once you song at anie hand:
Alasse! how can we sing or play
Jehovah's songs in strangers' land?
Yet let my hand forgett all playes,
If Salem I forget to praise.

If Salem byde not firm in mynd,

Let to my roofe my tongue be glew'd, If other joy then her I finde.

Lord, think on Edom's race so rude, That thus that daie did whet this nation, Root up, root up her strong foundation.

X.

MICHAEL DRAYTON.

THE MOST EXCELLENT SONG, WHICH WAS SALOMON'S,

WHEREIN IS DECLARED THE TRUE AND VNFAINED LOUE BETWEENE CHRIST AND HIS CHURCH, CONTAINING VIII. CHAPTERS.

The Fift Chapter.

WITHIN my garden plot,
Loe, I am present now!

I gathered haue the myrrhe and spice
That in aboundance growe.

With honey, milke, and wine,

I haue refresht me here:

Eat, drink, my friends, be mery there,
With harty friendly cheare.

Although in slumbering sleepe
It seemes to you I lay,
Yet heare I my beloued knock,
Methinkes I heare him say:

Open to me the gate,

My loue, my heart's delight,
For, loe, my locks are all bedewed
With drizling drops of night.

My garments are put off,
Then may I not doo so;

Shal I defile my feet I washt
So white as any snow?

Then fast euen by the dore
To me he shew'd his hand :
My heart was then enamoured,
When as I saw him stand.
Then straightwaies vp I rose
To ope the dore with speed;
My handes and fingers dropped myrrhe
Vpon the bar indeede.

Then opened I the dore

Vnto my loue at last;

But all in vain; for why? before

My loue was gone and past.

There sought I for my loue,

Then could I crie and call;
But him I could not find, nor he
Nould answer me at all.

The watchmen found me then,
As thus I walk'd astray;
They wounded me, and from my head
My vaile they took away.

Ye daughters of Ierusalem,
If ye my loue doo see,

Tell him that I am sicke for loue;
Yea, tel him this from me.

Thou peerelesse gem of price,
I pray thee to vs tell,

What is thy loue, what may he be,

That doth so far excell?

In my beloued's face

The rose and lilly striue;
Among ten thousand men not one
Is found so faire aliue.

His head like finest gold,

With secret sweet perfume;

His curled locks hang all as black
As any rauen's plume.

His eies be like to doues'
On riuers' banks below,

Ywasht with milk, whose collours are
Most gallant to the shew.
His cheeks like to a plot

Where spice and flowers growe;
His lips like to the lilly white,
From whence pure myrrh doth flow.

His hands like rings of gold
With costly chrisalet;
His belly like the yuory white,
With seemly saphyrs set.

His legs like pillers strong
Of marble set in gold;
His countenance like Libanon,
Or cedars, to behold.

His mouth it is as sweet,

Yea, sweet as sweet may be:
This is my loue, ye virgins, loe!

Euen such a one is he!

Thou fairest of vs all,

Whether is thy louer gone?

Tell us, and we will goe with thee;

Thou shalt not goe alone.

THE SONG OF ANNAH

FOR THE BRINGING FOORTH OF SAMUEL HER SONNE.

The Second Chap. of the Firste Booke of Samuel. My heart doth in the Lord reioice;

That liuing Lord of might,