VI. Sir Philip Sidney and the Countess of Pembroke

Sæpe expugnaverunt.

OFTE, and ever from my youth,

Soe now Israël may say:

Israël may say for truth,

Ofte and ever my decay

From my youth their force hath sought,

Yet effect it never wrought.

Unto them my back did yeeld

Place and paine: O height of woe!

Where, as in a plowed field,

Long and deepe did furrowes goe.

But, O just Jehova, thou

Hast their plow-ropes cutt in two!

Tell me, you that Sion hate,

What you think shall be your end?

Terror shall your mindes amate,

Blush and shame your faces shend:

Marke the wheate on howses’ topp;

Such your harvest, such your cropp.

Wither shall you where you stand;

Gather’d? noe: but wanting sapp,

Filling neither reaper’s hand,

Nor the binder’s inbowd lapp.

Nay, who you shall reape, or bind,

Common kindnesse shall not find.

Such as travail by the way,

Where as they their paines imploy,

Shall not once saluting say,

“God speed friendes, God give you joy;

He in whome all blessings raignes

Blesse your selves, and blesse your paines.”