WHAT 1 meanes the ragynge mindes | |
| Of cruell carelesse sorte, | |
| To raunge with rage, whose chollor hot | |
| They deeme a sweete disporte? | |
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| Or why do Papistes mutter so | 5 |
| In euery corner now | |
| Such tidinges straunge, as scarsly they | |
| In triall dare auow? | |
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| Their tongues to tell forth lies | |
| They dayly do imploy; | 10 |
| To sclaunder truth and godly men | |
| They take exceeding ioy. | |
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| As rechlesse forth they raunge, | |
| Regarding nought at all; | |
| Some liue in hope againe to see | 15 |
| The worship of God Baall. | |
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| And still they boast therof, | |
| As peruerse Papistes will: | |
| They spit their poison where they please, | |
| As Hydra’s whelps full ill. | 20 |
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| And here they prie, and there they spie, | |
| Their equals forth to finde; | |
| And oft in Paules they parley forth | |
| Their spiteful cankered minde. | |
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| Yea, still they talke of newes, | 25 |
| And then their mindes they say: | |
| But partinge then, “Adew,” saithe one, | |
| “Unto the golden day: | |
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| “When wee shall haue our wils | |
| And purpose come to passe; | 30 |
| And eke enioy, as wee doo wish, | |
| Our long-desired masse. | |
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| “And then shall goe to wracke | |
| The broode that Luther bred: | |
| Olde custome shall supplie the Churche, | 35 |
| Whiche errour now hath fed.” | |
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| Thus prate they as they liste, | |
| In secret muttringe sorte; | |
| Not basshing suche pernitious talke | |
| To parley and reporte. | 40 |
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| Some wish the Basan bull | |
| Might haue the rulinge sway; | |
| Who (as they boast) shall them restoare | |
| Unto there golden day. | |
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| Some wish the waueringe Moone | 45 |
| Might quite eclips the Sunne: | |
| And thus before their wittes, wee see, | |
| Some Papistes’ tounges doo runne. | |
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| Some wish the redcombde bird might crow, | |
| And beare away the game: | 50 |
| But yet his combe may hap be cut, | |
| For practisinge the same. | |
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| And longe this sauage crewe | |
| Of Bonner made account, | |
| To throne of London’s rule againe | 55 |
| In golden day should mount; | |
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| Who then would make our Protestants | |
| The cuckoe’s songe to singe; | |
| Or els with faggottes’ fine flames | |
| To ruine them to bringe. | 60 |
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| But God berefte their hope, | |
| Which vainely fed their minde: | |
| And unto his elected churche | |
| A pleadge of loue assinde. | |
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| For when they bragged most | 65 |
| To haue there golden day, | |
| Then God by death did ouerthrowe | |
| The piller of their staye. | |
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| And then they hunge their heades, | |
| As men that wanted braynes; | 70 |
| And sobbingly did shewe by sighes | |
| Their straunge tormenting paynes. | |
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| Some then were drownd in deepe dispaire, | |
| That longe in hope did liue: | |
| Yea, some did showe with streames, | 75 |
| What griefe his death did giue. | |
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| Thus were the Papistes drencht | |
| In fluddes of flowinge woe: | |
| As plainely men might see and vew | |
| By their externall shoe. * * * * * * | 80 |
| But harke! ye Balaams blind, | |
| Of popish saincts ye bee; | |
| The darknesse with cleare light | |
| At no time can agree. | |
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| Can Christe and Belliall loue? | 85 |
| Can truth a falsehood bee? | |
| Or shall the goates expulse the lambes | |
| From heaven? confesse to mee. | |
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| No more can you his sainctes, | |
| The flocke of God, deface; | 90 |
| Ne yet his pardon graunt to you | |
| In heauen a resting-place. | |
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| But yet if cursed cruell Cain, | |
| Which shed iust Abel’s blood, | |
| For homicide shall winne the heauens, | 95 |
| Then Christ shall doo you good. | |
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| If Arius, that heretique, | |
| Enioy felicitie; | |
| Then shall your pope, and you his sainctes, | |
| Which are as ill as he. | 100 |
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| If Iudas for betraying Christe | |
| Shall raigne in heauen on hie; | |
| So shall the pope, and you his sainctes; | |
| I can it not denie. | |
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| If Mahomet, that prophete false, | 105 |
| Eternitie doo gaine; | |
| Then shall the pope, and you his sainctes, | |
| In heauen be sure to raigne. | |
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| If Julius Apostata | |
| With Christe a place possesse; | 110 |
| So shall the pope, and you his sainctes; | |
| Of force I must confesse. | |
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| But harke! prepare your eares to heare | |
| What tidinges I shall tell: | |
| As these for their most wicked liues | 115 |
| Did sincke downe into hell; | |
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| So shall the pope and all his saincts, | |
| Unlesse they doo repent, | |
| Receiue like hyre, when Christ from heauen | |
| To iudge us shal be sent. | 120 |
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| For none more prone then he | |
| The truthe for to withstand; | |
| And none more apte then are his saincts | |
| To take the sworde in hand, | |
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| To fight against God’s heauenly truth, | 125 |
| And those that loue the same: | |
| Such zeale haue they vnto the drosse | |
| That peltinge popes did frame. | |
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| What truth their doctrine hath, | |
| Is easie for to trie: | 130 |
| A man may iudge the fruites thereof, | |
| That hath but halfe an eie. * * * * * * | |
| But God from heauen with vengeance hot | |
| This monster vile will blast; | |
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| Yea, he will breake the crewe | 135 |
| Of all the popish brood, | |
| That hope to haue a golden day | |
| To shed more martyrs’ bloud. | |
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| Yea, Christ wil swage the greedy thirst | |
| Of cruell carelesse Cain, | 140 |
| Which persecute his members still, | |
| And put his saincts to paine. | |
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| He will not leaue his Churche | |
| To languish in distresse, | |
| Though he permit some tirants still | 145 |
| Hir children to oppresse: | |
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| But as a faithfull husband sure | |
| He doth his Church regard, | |
| And at the last amidst his wrath | |
| His foes will sure reward. | 150 |
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| Yea, he will breake the jawes | |
| Of antichrist so wood, | |
| Which greedely his woluish thirst | |
| Doth quench with martyrs’ bloud. * * * * * * | |
| Then thinke ye, papists prowd, | 155 |
| The mighty God doth sleepe, | |
| Because ye scape unplagued yet, | |
| That kill his simple sheepe? | |
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| No! God beholds your rage, | |
| He sees his people’s griefe; | 160 |
| And, to decay your force in time, | |
| Will graunt his saincts reliefe. * * * * * * | |
| Then haue we not a golden daye? | |
| The Lorde prolonge the same! | |
| That in his feare henceforth we may | 165 |
| Practise our liues to frame; | |
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| And so be thankfull to our God | |
| For these his giftes of grace, | |
| That he may still behold our daies | |
| With his most louyng face; | 170 |
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| That all our wordes and deedes henceforth | |
| May learne so to accorde, | |
| That we with harts unfained may | |
| Still liue and laude the Lorde: | |
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| And next our gracious Queene | 175 |
| So honour and obaye, | |
| That England may be freed still | |
| From papists’ golden daye; | |
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| Which unto those that feare the Lord, | |
| And loue his veritie, | 180 |
| Through rigor and extorted force | |
| A dismall daie would be. | |
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| From which, Lord, fende thy littel flocke, | |
| And giue our foes a fall: | |
| Confound those cruell Caines, O Lord, | 185 |
| That for a chaunge do call. | |
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| And so thy truth do grafte | |
| Within our tender hart, | |
| That from thy truth and testament | |
| No daunger cause us start. | 190 |
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| Confound the rage of rebels stout; | |
| Lord, be our strength and towre: | |
| As from the Turke, so shield us, Lord, | |
| From force of popish powre. | |
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| Abate their pride, which wilfull be, | 195 |
| In lingringe hope to staie; | |
| Protect thy fold, defend thy churche | |
| From papists’ golden daye. | |
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| Aduaunce thy gospell still, | |
| Let not thy praise decaie: | 200 |
| Stretch forth thine arme, and shield us still | |
| From papists’ golden daie. | |
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| Let all that loue thy testament | |
| With harts unfayned praie, | |
| That neuer more in England here | 205 |
| The pope haue golden daie. | |
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| Increase the number of thy folde; | |
| Thy mercie, Lord, displaie; | |
| Prolonge amonge thy simple sheepe | |
| This happy golden daie: | 210 |
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| That we thy pasture may attaine, | |
| And so thy worde obaie, | |
| That we at no time neede to feare | |
| The papists’ golden daie. | |
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| Come, hast thy kingdome, mighty God, | 215 |
| Come, Jesus Christ, we praie; | |
| That all our foes may learne and know | |
| We haue a golden daie. | |
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| Our realme and queen defend, dere God, | |
| With hart and minde I praie; | 220 |
| That by thy aide hir grace may keepe | |
| The papists from their daie. | |
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| Hir health, hir wealth, and vitall race, | |
| In mercy longe increase; | |
| And graunt that ciuill warre and strife | 225 |
| In England still may cease. | |
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| Confound the purpose and deuise | |
| Of all that carelesse crewe, | |
| Which seeke by force for to withstand | |
| Thy worde and gospell trewe. | 230 |
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| Preserue the counsell of this realme, | |
| Let thy Sprite be their staie; | |
| That they their councell may imploy | |
| To breake the papistes’ daie. | |
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| Sende preachers true, good Lord, | 235 |
| Thy gospell to display; | |
| That by their trauell they may let | |
| The papists’ golden day. | |
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| The commons of this realme defend, | |
| That loue may ay abound; | 240 |
| And graunt obedience to our queene | |
| May euermore be found: | |
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| That as she faithfull is | |
| Hir subiectes ay to loue, | |
| So true and trustie unto hir | 245 |
| Our hartes may euer proue. | |
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| Thus shall the mighty God | |
| Be our defence and stay, | |
| And keepe the cruell papists still | |
| From their longe-wished day. | 250 |
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| And we shall haue, as God do graunt | |
| To papists swift decay, | |
| The worde of grace sincerely preacht, | |
| Which is our golden day. | |
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| Which to continew longe, | 255 |
| To God let us all pray: | |
| Whose glorious name be lauded still | |
| For this our golden day. | |
