Joseph Hall Poems

See'st thou how gaily my young master goes,
Vaunting himself upon his rising toes;
And pranks his hand upon his dagger's side;
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Saw'st thou ever Siquis patcht on Pauls Church door
To seek some vacant vicarage before?
Who wants a churchman that can service say,
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What Stoick could his steely brest containe
(If Zeno self, or who were made beside
Of tougher mold) from being torne in twaine
With the crosse Passions of this wondrous tide?
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A gentle squire would gladly entertain
Into his house some trencher chapelain;
Some willing man that might instruct his sons,
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With some pot-fury, ravish'd from their wit,
They sit and muse on some no-vulgar writ:
As frozen dunghills in a winter's morn,
That void of vapours seemed all beforn,
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Who hath not walkt astray
In wicked men's aduise,
Nor stood in sinners' way,
Nor in their companies
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On thee, O Lord my God, relies
My onely trust from bloudy spight;
Of all my raging enemies
Oh let thy mercy me acquite;
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Was ever nightly rainbowe seen ?
Did ever winter mourne in greene ?
Had that long bowe been bent by day
That chased all our clouds away;
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