Classic Poem

The cruell fire hauing wrought her worst,
When that at length the fury thereof ceast,
Titus arose, all open and vntrust,
Of many teares vnburdned and releast:
With head vncouered, mild and reuerently,
Into Sanctorum humbly entred he.

And seeing the glorie and magnificence,
The wondrous beautie of that sacred place,
Which there appeared, for all the vehemence
The flaming fier made, so long a space:
Tytus did stand amazed at the sight,
When he considered euery thing a right.

And thereupon into this speech he broke,
How came I in this Paradice of pleasure?
This Place Celestiall may all soules Prouoke,
To scorne the world, and seeke no other treasure:
Doe I from earth ascend by eleuation?
Or see I heauen by diuine reuelation?

Vndoubtedly the mightie God dwelt here,
This was no mortall creatures habitation,
For earthly Monarkes, it was all to deere,
Fit for none, but him who is our soules saluation:
O earthly heauen or heauenly Saintes receauer,
Thy sweete remembrance shall I keepe for euer.

Now well I wot, no maruell t'was indeed,
The Iewes so stoutly stood in fence of this:
O who could blame them, when they did proceed,
By all deuices to preserue their blis:
Since first I saw the Sunne, I neuer knew,
What heauens ioy ment, till I this place did view.

Nor did the Gentiles, without speciall cause,
From fardest partes both of the East and West,
Send heapes of gold by straight commaund of lawes,
This sacred place with glory to inuest:
For rich and wounderous is this holy seat,
And in mans eye the Maiesty is great.

Far doth it passe the Romaine Temples all,
Yea all the Temples of the world likewise,
They seeme to this like to an Asses stall,
Or like a stie where swine still grunting lies:
Great God of heauen, God of this glorious place,
Plague thou their soules that did thy house deface.

Tytus , thus wearied, gazing vp and downe,
Yet not satisfied, with the Temples sight,
Departed thence, to lodge within the towne:
Things out of frame, to set in order right,
Where while he stayd the stubborne harted Iewes,
Did there most wicked actions dayly vse.

For when they saw that fier had so spoyled,
Sanctum Sanctorum in such pitious sort,
Their diuillish harts that still with mischiefe broyled,
The treasure houses all, they burnt in sport,
And precious Iewells wheresoeuer they stood.
With all things else that should doe Romaines good.

The rest of the Temple, likewise did they burne,
In desperat manner, without all regard:
Which being wrought, away they did returne,
But many scapt not without iust reward:
The Romaine Souldiers, quickly quencht the fier,
And in the Temple wrought their heartes desire.

Where they set vp their heathen Idolls all,
Their sence-lesse Images, of wood and stone,
And at their feete, all prostrate did they fall,
Their offering sacrifice to them alone:
In plaine derision of the conquered sort,
Of whom the Romaines made a mocking sport.