Who spinnes by spight, and reeles to woe, Who takes delight, in roling so: Doth dubbe himselfe, a drousie hedde, (20) And bringes drousie foole to bedde.
Who rides a loft, and cannot rule, Who sitts not soft, and keepes his stoole: Doth both content, themselues with wrong, But wisemen will not vse it long.
¶ The complaynt of a Sinner. And song by the Earle
of Essex vpon his death bedde in Ireland. +
O Heauenly God, O Father deare, cast downe thy tender eye, Upon a wretche, that prostrate here, before thy face doth lye: O poure thy precious oyle of grace, into my wounded hart, O let the droppes of mercy swage, the rigour of my smart.
(5) My fainting soule suppressed sore, with carefull clogge of sinne, In humble sort submittes it selfe, thy mercy for to winne: Graunt mercy then, O Sauiour sweete, to me most wofull thrall, Whose mournefull crie, to thee O Lord, doth still for mercy call.
Thy blessed will I haue despised, vpon a stubburne minde, (10) And to the sway of worldly thinges, my selfe I haue inclinde: Forgetting heauen, & heauenly powers, where God and Sainctes do dwell, My life had like to tread the pathe, that leades the way to hell.
But now my Lord, my Lodestarre bright, I will no more do so, To thinke vpon my former life, my hart doth melt for wo: (15) Alas I sigh, alas I sobbe, alas I doe repent, That euer my licencious will, so wickedly was bent.
Sith thus therfore, with carefull plaint, I do thy mercy craue, O Lord for thy great mercies sake, let me thy mercie haue: Restore to life the wretched soule, that els is like to dye, (20) So shall my voyce vnto thy name, sing prayse eternally.