V. Barnaby Barnes

O GLORIOUS conquest, and thrice glorious speare!

But sev’n times thrice more glorious the Name

By which, thrice powrefull, wee conjure the same;

Which, but repeated, doth that Dragon feare,

That olde Levyathan, whose jawes, Lord! teare:

Roote out his tongue which doth Thy saints defame,

And thy sweete Gospell seeke to vaile with shame.

This the chief conquest of all conquests were;

For which archangels and all angels might,

With cherubins and seraphins, out bring

Victorious palmes, arraid in sincere white;

For which all saints might Alleluya sing.

Then, glorious Captaine, our chiefe God and Man,

Breake thou the jawes of olde Levyathan.