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| I SING a wondrous worke of God, | |
| I sing his mercies great, | |
| I sing his justice heere withall, | |
| Powr’d from his holy seat. | |
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| To wit, a cruell martiall warre, | 5 |
| A bloodie battell bolde, | |
| Long doubtsome fight, with slaughter huge, | |
| And wounded manifold: | |
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| Which fought was in Lepantoe’s gulfe, | |
| Betwixt the baptized race | 10 |
| And circumcised turband Turkes, | |
| Rencountring in that place. | |
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| O onely God, I pray thee thrise, | |
| Thrise one in persons three, | |
| Alike eternall, like of might, | 15 |
| Although distinct yee be: | |
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| I pray thee, Father, through thy Sonne, | |
| Thy Word immortall still, | |
| The great archangell of records, | |
| And worker, of thy will, | 20 |
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| To make thy holie Spreit my muse, | |
| And eik my pen inflame | |
| Aboue my skill to write this worke, | |
| To magnifie thy name. | |
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| Into the turning-still of times | 25 |
| I erre no time can be, | |
| Whoe was, and is, and times to come, | |
| Confounded are all three: | |
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| I meane before great God in heauen; | |
| (For sunne and moone deuides | 30 |
| The times in earth by houres and dayes, | |
| And seesons still that slides;) | |
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| Yet man, whom man must understand, | |
| Must speake into this cace; | |
| As man our flesh will not permit | 35 |
| Wee heauenlie things imbrace. | |
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| Then, as I els began to say, | |
| One day it did fall out, | |
| As glorious God in glistering throne, | |
| With angells round about, | 40 |
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| Did sit, and Christ at his right hand, | |
| That craftie Satan came, | |
| Deceauer, lyar, hating man, | |
| And God’s most sacred name; | |
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| This olde abuser stood into | 45 |
| The presence of the Lord; | |
| Then in this manner Christ accus’de | |
| The sower of discord. | |
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| I know thou from that city comes, | |
| Constantinople great, | 50 |
| Where thou hast by thy malice made | |
| The faithles Turkes to freat; | |
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| Thou hast inflamde their maddest mindes | |
| With raging fire of wraith | |
| Against them all that doe professe | 55 |
| My name with feruent fayth. | |
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| How long, O Father, shall they thus | |
| Quite vnder foote be tred | |
| By faithles folkes, who executes | |
| What in this snake is bred? | 60 |
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| Then Satan answerd, Fayth, quoth he, | |
| Their fayth is too, too small; | |
| They striue, methinke, on either part | |
| Who farthest backe can fall. | |
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| Hast thou not giuen them in my hands, | 65 |
| Euen boath the sides, I say, | |
| That I, as best doth seeme to me, | |
| May use them euery way? | |
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| Then Jehovah, whose nod doth make | |
| The heauens and mountains quake, | 70 |
| Whose smallest wrath the centres makes | |
| Of all the earth to shake; | |
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| Whose worde did make the world of nought, | |
| And whose approoving syne | |
| Did stablish all, even as wee see, | 75 |
| By force of voice deuine; | |
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| This God began from thundering throte | |
| Graue wordes of waight to bring: | |
| All Christians serue my Sonne, though not | |
| Aright in everie thing. | 80 |
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| No more shall now these Christians be | |
| With infidels opprest; | |
| So of my holie hallowed name | |
| The force is great and blest. | |
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| Desist, O tempter! Gabriel, come, | 85 |
| O thou archangel true, | |
| Whome I haue oft in message sent | |
| To realmes and townes anew. | |
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| Go quicklie hence to Venice towne, | |
| And put into their mindes | 90 |
| To take reuenge of wrongs the Turks | |
| Haue done in sundrie kinds. | |
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| No whistling winde with such a speed | |
| From hilles can hirle ore heugh, | |
| As he whose thought doth furnish speed— | 95 |
| His thought was speed aneugh. | |
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