Classic Poem

Like as the pilgrim that in a long way
Fainting for heat, provoked by some wind
In some fresh shade lieth down at mids of day,
So doth of David the wearied voice and mind
Take breath of sighs when he had sung this lay
Under such shade as sorrow hath assigned;
And as the t'one still minds his voyage end,
So doth the t'other to mercy still pretend.

On sonour chords his fingers he extends
Without hearing or judgement of the sound.
Down from his eyes a storm of tears descends,
Without feeling, that trickle on the ground,
As he that bleeds in bain right so intends
Th'altered senses to that that they are bound.
But sigh and weep he can none other thing
And look up still unto the heaven's king.

But who had been without the cave's mouth
And heard the tears and sighs that he did strain,
He would have sworn there had out of the south
A lukewarm wind brought forth a smoky rain.
But that so close the cave was and uncouth
That none but God was record of his pain,
Else had the wind blown in all Israel's ears
The woeful plaint and of their king the tears.

Of which some part when he up supped had,
Like as he whom his own thought affrays,
He turns his look. Him seemeth that the shade
Of his offence again his force assays
By violence despair on him to lade.
Starting like him whom sudden fear dismays,
His voice he strains and from his heart outbrings
This song that I not whether he cries or sings.