“Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend”

    Justus quidem tu es, Domine, si disputem tecum: verumtamen justa loquar ad te: Quare via impiorum prosperatur? &c.

    Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend

    With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just.

    Why do sinners’ ways prosper? and why must

    Disappointment all I endeavour end?

     

    Wert thou my enemy, O thou my friend,

    How wouldst thou worse, I wonder, than thou dost

    Defeat, thwart me? Oh, the sots and thralls of lust

    Do in spare hours more thrive than I that spend,

    Sir, life upon thy cause. See, banks and brakes

    Now, leavèd how thick! lacèd they are again

    With fretty chervil, look, and fresh wind shakes

    Them; birds build—but not I build; no, but strain,

    Time’s eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes.

    Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.

photograph of chervil
lacèd they are again With fretty chervil
(see “Thou art indeed just, lord,” lines 10-11)

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