Classic Poem

Then came false Schimion and Iehocanan ,
Chiefe Captaines to the seditious trayne,
With many followers, weapned euery man,
Requiring peace, if peace they could obtaine:
To whome Prince Tytus with his chiefest state,
Did thus reply you seeke this thing to late.

How comes it now that yee intreate for life,
After so many mischeiefes by you wrought,
When you haue slaine and murthered man and wife,
And thousand thousands to destruction brought:
Who then as faint as euer he could stand,
Came to submit himselfe, to Tytus hand.

How oft haue I intreated you to peace,
And offered mercie, without all desert,
When you refusing it, did still increase
Your trayterous dealings, your chiefest smart:
It pittied me to see your woefull case,
With your innumerable men dead in each place.

How can I pardon these outragious acts,
Your many murders and false sedition,
With diuers other abhominable facts,
For which I see in you no hearts contrition:
You seeke for peace, yet armed do you stand,
You craue for pardon, with your swords in hand.

First lay a side your swords and weapons all,
And in submissiue manner ask for grace,
So shall you see what fauour may befall,
Perhaps I may take pitty on your case:
And graciously withall your faults suspence,
And giue you pardon, ere you goe from hence.

With bended browes proud Schimion then did looke
On gentle Tytus: Iehocanan likewise
In scornfull manner all his speeches tooke,
And both of them disdainefully replies:
By heauens great god, we both haue sworne (quoth they)
To make no seruile peace with thee this day.

For neuer shall earths misery prouoke
Our vndaunted heartes to stoope vnto thy will,
Or bend our neckes vnto the Romaine yoake,
While vital breath our inward parts doth fill:
Then vnto vs this fauour doe expresse,
To let vs part and liue in wildernesse.

At this contempt was Tytus greatly moued,
And doth your pride continue yet (quoth he)?
Will not your impudence be yet reproued?
Nor yet your stubborne heartes yet humbeld be?
And dare you say that you will sweare and vow,
That to the Romaine yoke you will not bow?

At this his wrath was wounderous sore inflamed,
Who hereupon gaue straight commandement,
By strength of sword to haue those rebels tamed,
On whom the Romaines set incontinent:
Who chac'd the Iewes and scattered them so sore,
That they were found to gather head no more.

For secretly the Iewes from Schimion fled,
By some and some they all forsooke him quite,
With false Iehocanan which so misled,
And foret them gainst them selues to murderous fight:
Who leauing them, to noble Tytus came,
Desiring grace, who graunted them the same.

Iehocanan and Schimion seeing this,
They were forsaken, and left post alone,
In their distresse lamented their amisse,
Closse hid in caues, they lay and made their mone:
Where they remained perplext with famine great,
Till they were ready, their owne flesh to eate.