Edward Farr, ed. Select Poetry of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. 1845.
The Translation of EnochXXVIII. Thomas Peyton
G
Takes Enoch vp, that liu’d therein to mone,
Waile, grieve, lament, the abuses which he saw
Committed were against the conscience, law
Of noble nature, in that sinfull age;
Small hope to mend, when hope could not asswage
The furious current of this streame and tide,
Too good (sweete saint) with these foule men to bide.
Before thy face in glittring robes do shine,
Their number more than are the stars and sands,
With golden censors in their pure white hands,
Winged with Fame to mount the highest heauens,
Ranck’t all in order, mustring iust by seauens,
Descending sweetely on thy louely brest,
To bring both soule and body to their rest.
Of burnisht gold, the horse with loue inflam’d,
Mount vp the aire with stately stomack fierce,
And at the last the brazen wall doth pierce;
Where like a prince that Paradise had gain’d,
Of Eue and Adam thou art entertain’d,
With farre more love within so braue a field,
Then all the world and all therein can yeeld;
There thou dost liue when they art wrapt in dust,
The seuenth from them, tipe of our sabaoth iust.