Page:The Complete Poetical Works of John Milton.djvu/126

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��POEMS DURING CIVIL WAR AND PROTECTORATE

��PSALM LXXXVII

1 AMONG the holy mountains high

Is his foundation fast; There seated in his sanctuary, His temple there is placed.

2 Sion's^/mr gates the Lord loves more

Than all the dwellings fair Of Jacob's land, though there be store, And all within his care.

3 City of God, most glorious things

Of thee abroad are spoke. 10

I mention Egypt, where proud kings Did our forefathers yoke;

4 I mention Babel to my friends,

PhilistiayuW of scorn, And Tyre, with Ethiop's utmost ends : Lo ! this man there was born.

5 But twice that praise shall in our ear

Be said of Sion last : This and this man was born in her; High God shall fix her fast. 20

6 The Lord shall write it in a scroll,

That ne'er shall be out-worn, When he the nations doth enroll, That this man there was born.

7 Both they who sing and they who dance

With sacred songs are there; In thee fresh brooks and soft streams

glance, And all my fountains clear.

��PSALM LXXXVIII

1 LORD GOD, that dost me save and keep,

All day to thee I cry, And all night long before thee weep, Before thee prostrate lie.

2 Into thy presence let my prayer,

With sighs devout, ascend; And to my cries, that ceaseless are, Thine ear with favour bend.

3 For, cloyed with woes and trouble store,

Surcharged my soul doth lie; 10

My life, at death's uncheerful door, Unto the grave draws nigh.

4 Reckoned I am with them that pass

Down to the dismal pit; I am a ' man but weak, alas !

And for that name unfit, 6 From life discharged and parted quite

Among the dead to sleep, And like the slain in bloody fight

1 Heb. : A man without manly strength.

��That in the grave lie deep; 20

Whom thou rememberest no more,

Dost never more regard: Them, from thy hand delivered o'er,

Death's hideous house hath barred.

6 Thou, in the lowest pit profound,

Hast set me all forlorn, Where thickest darkness hovers round, In horrid deeps to mourn.

7 Thy wrath, from lohich no shelter saves,

Full sore doth press on me; 30

1 Thou break'st upon me all thy waves, 1 And all thy waves break me.

8 Thou dost my friends from me estrange,

And mak'st me odious, Me to them odious, for they change, And I here pent up thus.

9 Through sorrow and affliction great

Mine eye grows dim and dead; Lord, all the day I thee entreat,

My hands to thee I spread. 40

10 Wilt thou do wonders on the dead ?

Shall the deceased arise And praise theefrom their loathsome bed With pale and hollow eyes ?

11 Shall they thy loving-kindness tell

On whom the grave hath hold ? Or they who in perdition dwell Thy faithfulness unfold f

12 In darkness can thy mighty hand

Or wondrous acts be known ? 50

Thy justice in the gloomy land Of dark oblivion ?

13 But I to thee, O Lord, do cry

Ere yet my life be spent; And up to thee my prayer doth hie Each morn, and thee prevent.

14 Why wilt thou, Lord, my soul forsake

And hide thy face from me,

15 That am already bruised, and 2 shake

With terror sent from thee; 60

Bruised and afflicted, and so low

As ready to expire, While I thy terrors undergo,

Astonished with thine ire ?

16 Thy fierce wrath over me doth flow;

Thy threatenings cut me through:

17 All day they round about me go;

Like waves they me pursue.

18 Lover and friend thou hast removed,

And severed from me far: 70

They^Zy me now whom I have loved, And as in darkness are.

1 The Hebrew bears both.
 * Heb. : Prx concussione.

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