Complete Works of Sir Thomas Wyatt
Page 15
Be next thyself, for friendship bears no price.
Laughest thou at me? why? do I speak in vain?
No, not at thee, but at thy thrifty jest: 80
Wouldst thou, I should, for any loss or gain
Change that for gold that I have ta’en for best
Next godly things, to have an honest name?
Should I leave that? then take me for a beast.
Nay then, farewell, and if thou care for shame, 85
Content thee then with honest poverty;
With free tongue what thee mislikes, to blame,
And for thy truth, sometime adversity.
And therewithal this gift I shall thee give,
In this world now little prosperity; 90
And coin to keep, as water in a sieve.
Penitential Psalms
THE PROLOGUE OF THE AUTHOR
DEDICATION.
TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE AND HIS SINGULAR GOOD LORD,
WILLIAM MARQUIS OF NORTHAMPTON,
EARL OF ESSEX, BARON OF KENDAL, LORD PARR, AND KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER YOUR MOST BOUNDEN ORATOR AT COMMANDMENT, JOHN HARRINGTON, WISHETH HEALTH AND PROSPERITY WITH INCREASE OF VIRTUE, AND THE MERCY OF GOD FOR EVER.
CONSIDERING the manifold duties and abundant service that I owe unto your good Lordship, right honourable and my singular good Lord, I cannot but see infinite causes why I, chiefly of all others, ought with all cheerful and ready endeavour to gratify your good Lordship by all means possible, and to apply myself wholly to the same, as one that would gladly, but can by no means be able to do accordingly as his bounden duty requireth: I cannot, I say, but see and acknowledge myself bounden, and not able to do such service as I owe, both for the inestimable benefits that your noble progenitors, and also your good Lordship hath shewed unto my parents and predecessors, and also to myself, as to one least able to do any acceptable service, though the will be at all times most ready. In token whereof, your Lordship shall at all times perceive by simple things that my little wit shall be able to invent, that if mine heart could do you any service, no labour or travail should withhold me from doing my duty; and that if busy labour and the heart might be able to pay the duty that love oweth, your Lordship should in no point find me ingrate or unthankful. And to declare this my ready will, I have dedicated unto your name this little treatise, which, after I had perused and by the advice of others (better learned than myself) determined to put it in print, that the noble fame of so worthy a Knight as was the author hereof, Sir Thomas Wyatt, should not perish but remain, as well for his singular learning as valiant deeds in martial feats, I thought that I could not find a more worthy patron for such a man’s work than your Lordship, whom I have always known to be of so godly a zeal to the furtherance of God’s holy and sacred Gospel, most humbly beseeching your good Lordship herein to accept my good will, and to esteem me as one that wisheth unto the same all honour, health, and prosperous success. Amen.
Your good Lordship’s
most humble at commandment,
JOHN HARRINGTON.
PENITENTIAL PSALMS
H. S.
THE GREAT Macedon that out of Persia chased
Darius, of whose huge power all Asia rang;
In the rich ark if Homer’s rhymes he placed,
Who feigned gests of heathen princes sang; 5
What holy grave, what worthy sepulture
To Wyatt’s Psalms should Christians then purchase,
Where he doth paint the lively faith and pure,
The steadfast hope, the sweet return to grace
Of just David by perfect penitence; 10
Where rulers may see in a mirrour clear,
The bitter fruits of false concupiscence,
How Jewry bought Urias’ death full dear.
In princes hearts God’s scourge y-printed deep,
Ought them awake out of their sinful sleep. 15
The Prologue of the Author
LOVE, to give law unto his subjects’ hearts,
Stood in the eyes of Batsabé the bright;
And in a look anon himself converts
Cruelly pleasant before King David’s sight,
First dazed his eyes, and further-forth he starts 20
With venom’d breath, as softly as he might
Touches his sinews, and overruns his bones
With creeping fire, sparkled for the nones.
And when he saw that kindled was the flame,
The moist poison in his heart he lanced, 25
So that the soul did tremble with the same;
And in this brawl as he stood entranced,
Yielding unto the figure and the frame,
That those fair eyes had in his presence glanced;
The form, that Love had printed in his breast, 30
He honoureth as a thing of thinges best.
So that, forgot the wisdom and forecast,
Which woe to realms, when that the King doth lack;
Forgetting eke God’s Majesty as fast,
Yea and his own; forthwith he doth to make 35
Urie to go into the field in haste,
Urie, I say, that was his jewel’s make,
Under pretence of certain victory,
For the enemies’ swords a ready prey to be.
Whereby he may enjoy her out of doubt, 40
Whom more than God or himself he mindeth:
And after he had brought this thing about,
And of that lust possess’d himself, he findeth
That hath and doth reverse and clean turn out
Kings from kingdoms, and cities undermineth; 45
He blinded thinks, this train so blind and close,
To blind all things, that nought may it disclose.
But Nathan hath spied out this treachery,
With rueful cheer; and sets afore his face
The great offence, outrage, and injury, 50
That he hath done to God, as in this case,
By murder for to cloak adultery:
He sheweth eke from heaven the threats, alas!
So sternly sore this Prophet, this Nathan,
That all amazed was this woful man. 55
Like him that meets with horror and with fear;
The heat doth straight forsake the limbes cold,
The colour eke droopeth down from his cheer;
So doth he feel his fire manifold,
His heat, his lust, his pleasure all in fere 60
Consume and waste: and straight his crown of gold,
His purple pall, his sceptre he lets fall,
And to the ground he throweth himself withal.
Then pompous pride of state, and dignity
Forthwith rebates repentant humbleness: 65
Thinner vile cloth than clotheth poverty
Doth scantly hide and clad his nakedness:
His fair hoar beard of reverent gravity,
With ruffled hair, knowing his wickedness:
More like was he the selfsame repentance 70
Than stately prince of worldly governance.
His harp he taketh in hand to be his guide,
Wherewith he offereth plaints, his soul to save,
That from his heart distills on every side.
Withdrawing himself into a dark deep cave 75
Within the ground, wherein he might him hide,
Flying the light, as in prison or grave;
In which, as soon as David entered had,
The dark horror did make his soul adrad.
But he, without prolonging or delay 80
Of that, which might his Lord his God appease,
Falleth on his knees, and with his harp, I say,
Afore his breast yfraughted with disease
Of stormy sighs, deep draughts of his decay,
Dressed upright, seeking to counterpoise 85
His song with sighs, and touching of the strings,
With tender heart, lo, thus to God he sings.
D
omine, ne in furore
O LORD! since in my mouth thy mighty name
Suffereth itself, my Lord, to name and call,
Here hath my heart hope taken by the same; 90
That the repentance, which I have and shall,
May at thy hand seek mercy, as the thing
Of only comfort of wretched sinners all:
Whereby I dare with humble bemoaning,
By thy goodness, this thing of thee require: 95
Chastise me not for my deserving
According to thy just conceived ire.
O Lord! I dread: and that I did not dread
I me repent; and evermore desire
Thee Thee to dread. I open here, and spread 100
My fault to thee: but thou, for thy goodness,
Measure it not in largeness, nor in breade:
Punish it not as asketh the greatness
Of thy furor, provoked by mine offence.
Temper, O Lord, the harm of my excess, 105
With mending will, that I for recompense
Prepare again: and rather pity me;
For I am weak, and clean without defence;
More is the need I have of remedy.
For of the whole the leche taketh no cure; 110
The sheep that strayeth the shepherd seeks to see.
I, Lord, am stray’d; and, seke without recure,
Feel all my limbs, that have rebelled, for fear
Shake in despair, unless thou me assure:
My flesh is troubled, my heart doth fear the spear. 115
That dread of death, of death that ever lasts,
Threateth of right, and draweth near and near.
Much more my soul is troubled by the blasts
Of these assaults, that come as thick as hail,
Of worldly vanities, that temptation casts 120
Against the bulwark of the fleshe frail.
Wherein the soul in great perplexity
Feeleth the senses with them that assail
Conspire, corrupt by pleasure and vanity:
Whereby the wretch doth to the shade resort 125
Of hope in Thee, in this extremity.
But thou, O Lord, how long after this sort
Forbearest thou to see my misery?
Suffer me yet, in hope of some comfort
Fear, and not feel that thou forgettest me. 130
Return, O Lord: O Lord, I thee beseech!
Unto thy old wonted benignity.
Reduce, revive my soul: be thou the leche;
And reconcile the great hatred, and strife,
That it hath ta’en against the flesh; the wretch 135
That stirred hath thy wrath by filthy life.
See how my soul doth fret it to the bones:
Inward remorse, so sharpeth it like a knife,
That but Thou help the caitiff, that bemoans
His great offence, it turneth anon to dust. 140
Here hath thy mercy matter for the nones;
For if thy righteous hand, that is so just,
Suffer no sin, or strike with dampnation,
Thy infinite mercy want nedes it must
Subject matter for his operation: 145
For that in death there is no memory
Among the dampned, nor yet no mention
Of thy great name, ground of all glory.
Then if I die, and go whereas I fear
To think thereon, how shall thy great mercy 150
Sound in my mouth unto the worldes ear?
For there is none, that can Thee laud, and love,
For that thou wilt no love among them there.
Suffer my cries the mercy for to move,
That wonted is a hundred years’ offence 155
In a moment of repentance to remove.
How oft have I called up with diligence
This slothful flesh long afore the day
For to confess his fault, and negligence;
That to the den, for aught that I could say, 160
Hath still returned to shrowd himself from cold?
Whereby it suffereth now for such delay,
By mighty pains, instead of pleasures old.
I wash my bed with tears continual
To dull my sight, that it be never bold 165
To stir my heart again to such a fall.
Thus dry I up, among my foes, in woe,
That with my fall do rise, and grow withal,
And me beset even now where I am, so
With secret traps, to trouble my penance. 170
Some do present to my weeping eyes, lo,
The cheer, the manner, beauty, or countenance
Of her, whose look, alas! did make me blind:
Some other offer to my remembrance
Those pleasant words, now bitter to my mind: 175
And some shew me the power of my armour,
Triumph, and conquest, and to my head assign’d
Double diadem: some shew the favour
Of people frail, palace, pomp, and riches.
To these mermaids, and their baits of error 180
I stop my ears, with help of thy goodness.
And for I feel, it cometh alone of Thee
That to my heart these foes have none access,
I dare them bid, Avoid, wretches, and flee;
The Lord hath heard the voice of my complaint; 185
Your engines take no more effect in me:
The Lord hath heard, I say, and seen me faint
Under your hand, and pitieth my distress.
He shall do make my senses, by constraint,
Obey the rule, that reason shall express: 190
Where the deceit of that your glosing bait
Made them usurp a power in all excess.
Shamed be they all, that so do lie in wait
To compass me, by missing of their prey!
Shame and rebuke redound to such deceit! 195
Sudden confusion, as stroke without delay,
Shall so deface their crafty suggestion,
That they to hurt my health no more assay
Since I, O Lord, remain in thy protection.
The Author
WHOSO hath seen the sick in his fever, 200
After truce taken with the heat or cold,
And that the fit is past of his fervour,
Draw fainting sighs; let him, I say, behold
Sorrowful David, after his langour,
That with his tears, that from his eyen down roll’d, 205
Paused his plaint, and laid adown his harp,
Faithful record of all his sorrows sharp.
It seemed now that of his fault the horror
Did make afear’d no more his hope of grace;
The threats whereof in horrible terror 210
Did hold his heart as in despair a space,
Till he had will’d to seek for his succour;
Himself accusing, beknowing his case,
Thinking so best his Lord to appease,
And not yet healed he feeleth his disease. 215
Now seemeth fearful no more the dark cave,
That erst did make his soul for to tremble;
A place devout, of refuge for to save
The succourless it rather doth resemble:
For who had seen so kneeling within the grave 220
The chief pastor of the Hebrews’ assemble,
Would judge it made by tears of penitence
A sacred place worthy of reverence.
With vapour’d eyes he looketh here and there,
And when he hath a while himself bethought, 225
Gathering his spirits, that were dismay’d for fear,
His harp again into his hand he raught,
Tuning accord by judgment of his ear,
His heart’s bottom for a sigh he sought;
And therewithal upon the hollow tree 230
With strained voice again thus crieth he.
Beati, quorum remisse sunt Iniquitat
es
OH! happy are they that have forgiveness got
Of their offence, not by their penitence
As by merit, which recompenseth not;
Although that yet pardon hath not offence 235
Without the same; but by the goodness
Of Him that hath perfect intelligence
Of heart contrite, and covereth the greatness
Of sin within a merciful discharge.
And happy are they that have the wilfulness 240
Of lust restrain’d afore it went at large,
Provoked by the dread of God’s furor;
Whereby they have not on their backs the charge
Of others’ faults to suffer the dolor;
For that their fault was never execute 245
In open sight, example of error.
And happy is he to whom God doth impute
No more his fault, by knowledging his sin:
But cleansed now the Lord doth him repute;
As adder fresh new stripped from his skin: 250
Nor in his sprite is aught undiscover’d.
I, for because I hid it still within,
Thinking by state in fault to be preferr’d,
Do find by hiding of my fault my harm;
As he that findeth his health hindered 255
By secret wound concealed from the charm
Of leech’s cure, that else had had redress;
And feel my bones consume, and wax unfirm
By daily rage, roaring in excess.
Thy heavy hand on me was so increased 260
Both day and night, and held my heart in press,
With pricking thoughts bereaving me my rest;
That withered is my lustiness away,
As summer heats that have the green oppress’d.
Wherefore I did another way assay, 265
And sought forthwith to open in thy sight
My fault, my fear, my filthiness, I say,
And not to hide from Thee my great unright.
I shall, quoth I, against myself confess
Unto thee, Lord, all my sinful plight: 270
And thou forthwith didst wash the wickedness
Of mine offence. Of truth right thus it is,
Wherefore they, that have tasted thy goodness,
At me shall take example as of this,
And pray, and seek in time for time of grace. 275
Then shall the storms and floods of harm him miss,