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Home  »  Select Poetry, Chiefly Devotional, of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth  »  VI. Sir Philip Sidney and the Countess of Pembroke

Edward Farr, ed. Select Poetry of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. 1845.

Psalme XIX

VI. Sir Philip Sidney and the Countess of Pembroke

Cœli enarrant.

THE HEAV’NLY frame setts foorth the fame

Of him that only thunders;

The firmament, so strangly bent,

Showes his hand-working wonders.

Day unto day doth it display,

Their course doth it acknowledg:

And night to night succeeding right

In darknes teach cleare knowledg.

There is no speach, nor language, which

Is soe of skill bereaved,

But of the skies the teaching cries

They have heard and conceaved.

There be no eyne, but read the line

From soe faire booke proceeding;

Their wordes be sett in letters greate

For ev’ry bodie’s reading.

Is not he blind, that doth not find

The tabernacle builded

There by his grace, for sunne’s faire face

In beames of beuty gilded?

Who foorth doth come, like a bridegroome

From out his vailing places:

As gladd is hee as giantes be

To runne their mighty races.

His race is ev’n from endes of heav’n;

About that vault he goeth:

There be no realmes hid from his beames;

His heate to all he throweth.

O law of his, how perfect ’tis!

The very soule amending:

God’s wittnes sure for ay doth dure,

To simplest wisdome lending.

God’s doomes be right, and cheere the sprite:

All his commandments being

So purely wise, they give the eies

Both light and force of seeing.

Of him the feare doth cleannes beare,

And so endures for ever:

His judgments be self verity,

They are unrighteous never.

Then what man would so soone seeke gold,

Or glittring golden money?

By them is past, in sweetest tast,

Honny or combe of honny.

By them is made thy servantes trade,

Most circumspectly guarded:

And who doth frame to keepe the same

Shall fully be rewarded.

Who is the man that ever can

His faultes know and acknowledg?

O Lord, clense me from faults that be

Most secret from all knowledg.

Thy servant keepe, lest in him creepe

Presumptuous sinnes’ offences:

Let them not have me for their slave,

Nor raigne upon my sences.

Soe shall my sprite be still upright

In thought and conversation:

Soe shall I bide well purifide

From much abomination.

Soe lett wordes sprong from my weake tongue,

And my harte’s meditation,

My saving might, Lord, in thy sight

Receave good acceptation.