|
|
|
Classic and Contemporary Poetry
PENITENTIAL PSALM: 38. DOMINE NE IN FURORE, by THOMAS WYATT Poet Analysis Poet's Biography
First Line: O lord, as I thee have both prayed and pray
Last Line: This song that I not whether he cries or sings.
Alternate Author Name(s): Wyat, Thomas
First Line: O lord, as I thee have both prayed and pray
Last Line: This song that I not whether he cries or sings.
Alternate Author Name(s): Wyat, Thomas
O Lord, as I Thee have both prayed and pray,
Although in Thee be no alteration
But that we men like as ourselves we say,
Measuring Thy justice by our mutation,
Chastise me not, O Lord, in Thy furor,
Nor me correct in wrathful castigation.
For that Thy arrows of fear, of terror,
Of sword, of sickness, of famine and fire
Stick deep in me, I, lo, from mine error
Am plunged up, as horse out of the mire
With stroke of spur: such is Thy hand on me
That in my flesh for terror of Thy ire
Is not on point of firm stability,
Nor in my bones there is no steadfastness:
Such is my dread of mutability,
For that I know my frailful wickedness.
For why? My sins above my head are bound,
Like heavy weight that doth my force oppress
Under the which I stop and bow to ground,
As willow plant haled by violence;
And of my flesh each not well cured wound,
That festered is by folly and negligence,
By secret lust hath rankled under skin,
Not duly cured by my penitence.
Perceiving thus the tyranny of sin,
That with his weight hath humbled and depressed
My pride; by grudging of the worm within
That never dieth, I live withouten rest.
So are mine entrails infect with fervent sore,
Feeding the harm that hath my wealth oppressed,
That in my flesh is left no health therefore.
So wondrous great hath been my vexation
That it hath forced my heart to cry and roar.
O Lord, Thou knowst the inward contemplation
Of my desire; Thou knowst my sighs and plaints;
Thou knowst the tears of my lamentation
Cannot express my heart's inward restraints.
My heart panteth; my force I feel it quail;
My sight, mine eyes, my look decays and faints;
And when mine enemies did me most assail,
My friends most sure, wherein I set most trust,
Mine own virtues soonest then did fail,
And stand apart, reason and wit unjust,
As kin unkind were farthest gone at need.
So had they place their venom out to thrust
That sought my death by naughty word and deed.
Their tongues reproach, their wits did fraud apply,
And I like deaf and dumb forth my way yede,
Like one that hears not, nor hath to reply
One word again, knowing that from Thy hand
These things proceed and Thou, O Lord, shalt supply
My trust in Thee wherein I stick and stand.
Yet have I had great cause to dread and fear
That Thou wouldst give my foes the overhand;
For in my fall they showed such pleasant cheer,
And therewithal I alway in the lash
Abide the stroke; and with me every where
I bear my fault, that greatly doth abash
My doleful cheer; for I my fault confess,
And my desert doth all my comfort dash.
In the meanwhile mine enemies safe increase
And my provokers hereby do augment,
That without cause to hurt me do not cease;
In evil for good against me they be bent,
And hinder shall my good pursuit of grace.
Lo now, my God that seest my whole intent,
My Lord, I am, Thou knowst well, in what case.
Forsake me not; be not far from me gone:
Haste to my help, haste, Lord, and haste apace,
O Lord, the Lord of all my health alone.
Like as the pilgrim that in a long way
Fainting for heat, provoked by some wind
In some fresh shade lieth down at mid of day,
So doth of David the wearied voice and mind
Take breath of sighs when he had sung this lay,
Under such shade as sorrow hath assigned;
And as the tone still minds his viage end,
So doth the t' other to mercy still pretend.
On sonour cords his fingers he extends,
Without hearing or judgment of the sound;
Down from his eyes a stream of tears descends
Without feeling that trickle on the ground,
As he that bleeds in bane right so intends
Th' altered senses to that that they are bound;
But sight and weep he can none other thing,
And look up still unto the heaven's King.
But who had been without the cave's mouth,
And heard the tears and sighs that he did strain,
He would have sworn there had out of the south
A lukewarm wind brought forth a smokey rain;
But that so close the cave was and uncouth
That none but God was record of his pain:
Else had the wind blown in all Israel's ears
The woeful plaint and of their king the tears.
Of which some part, when he up supped had,
Like as he whom his own thought affrays,
He turns his look. Him seemeth that the shade
Of his offense again his force assays
By violence despair on him to lade:
Starting like him whom sudden fear dismays,
His voice he strains, and from his heart out brings
This song that I not whether he cries or sings.