Classic Poem

Who staring vp and down with feareful lookes,
Least any one were nigh to apprehend him,
Like to a Panther doubting hidden hookes,
That any way might lye for to offend him:
Driuen out with famine, hungry at the hart,
He sought for succour of his earned smart.

And hauing drest himselfe in Kingly tire,
In richest manner that he could deuise,
That men at him might wonder: and desire
To know what Monarke did from earth arise,
Farre off he walked as it were in boast,
And shewd himselfe vnto the Romaine hoast.

For his great heart could not abide to yeeld,
Though gnawing hunger vext his very soule:
Thus faintly walkt he vp and downe the field
With lofty thoughts, which famine did controule,
Supposing firmely, though he liu'd in hate,
He should finde fauour, for his high estate:

For though (quoth he) I did the Romaines wrong,
Yet in my deeds, I shewed Princely courage,
Bearing a heart, that did to honour throng,
And thereupon their Campe so oft did forage,
To haughty acts all Princes honour owes,
For they must thinke that war hath made vs foes.

Considering this, Prince Tytus may be proude,
To such an enemie he may fauour shew,
And herein may his action be allowd,
That magnanimitie he will nourish so:
And by his mercie make a friend of him,
That in his warres so great a foe hath beene.

While in this humour, hee him selfe did flatter,
Of him the Romaines had a perfect sight,
And round about him they themselues did scatter,
Yet were afraid to come within his might:
And that they fear'd this was the onely reason,
They knew his craft, and doubted hidden treason.

But Schimion seeing that they shund him so,
He cald vnto them in couragious wise,
Maiestically walking to and fro,
And in this sort, his speech to them applies:
If any gallant Captaine with you be,
Let him approch, and talke one word with me.

With that stept out a braue couragious Knight,
With weapons well prouided euery way,
A noble Romaine of great strength and might,
Who with his weapon drawne these words did say
Tell me, who art thou that in such attire,
Walkes in this place, and what is thy desire?

I am (quoth he) vndaunted Schimeon ,
The wrathfull Captaine of seditious Iewes,
That slew the Romaines, in their greatest throng,
The deed whereof I come not to excuse:
Nor doe I passe what you can say thereto,
I am the man made you so much a doe.

Yet let me thus much fauour craue of thee,
As to conduct me to great Tytus sight,
Thy noble friend, but enemie to me:
Yet doubt I not, but he will doe me right:
Bring me to him, what chaunce so ere I finde,
That he may heare, and I may shew my mind.

The Romaine Captaine his request fulfild,
To Tytus royall presence was he brought,
Whose hatefull person, when the Prince beheld,
He did refuse to heare him speake in ought,
Away with him (he sayd) let him be bound,
For of all woe this villaine was the ground.

And like a Captiue first let him be led,
About the Camp to suffer scoffes and scornes,
And after that strike of his hatefull head,
The mansion house of mischiefes pricking thornes:
And let his carcase be in peeces torne,
And euery gobbet vnto dogges be throwne.

What Titus charg'd was put in execution,
And in this sort was Schimions hatefull end,
Who went to death with wonderous resolution,
Not like a man, but like an hellish fiend:
Thus Titus conquer'd that most pretious Iem,
The beautious Citie faire Ierusalem .