Classic Poem

The tydings brought of the enimies approach, and the feare of the citizens : their provision of victuals for twenty yeares burnt in one night, by one of their owne captaines, of meere malice, which caused a sodaine dearth to follow : their sedition and diuision betweene themselues while the cittie was besieged .

Bvt whilst that they their sugred. Iunkets tasted,
Vnto the Citty came a tyred post,
Full weake and wearie, and with trauell wasted,
Who brought them word their foes were on their coast :
Which when they knew, their merriments were dashed,
These dolefull newes made them full sore abashed.

Their Cipres Tables then to ground they throw,
Their siluer dishes, and their cups of gould,
For haste to meet the proud inuading foe,
Feare makes them mad, but courage makes them bould :
And to defend the brunt of future harmes,
They leaue their Ladies and imbrace their Armes.

Instead of Lutes and sweete resounding Vials,
They sound the Trumpet and the ratling drum,
Their barbed Steeds they put to diuers tryals,
How they can manage, stop, carrie, and run :
Their cunning harpers now must harnesse beare,
Their nimble dauncers war-like weapons weare,

But ere their wrathfull foes approached neere,
The store-houses the Gouerners did fill,
With wholsome victuals which for twenty yeare
Would serue two hundred thousand cast by bill,
But all the same by one seditious Squire
Was in one night consum'd with flaming fire.

For why the Cittizens to discord fell,
So giddy headed were they alwaies found,
And in their rage like furious fiends of hell,
In murdering sort they did each other wound :
And when they entred in this diuellish strife,
They spared neither Infant, man, nor wife.

Into three parts the people were deuided,
And one against an other hatred bore,
The chiefest sort sediciously were guided,
Whereby vnciuell mutines vext them sore :
So that the sorrow of the forreine warre,
Was nothing to their bloody ciuill iarre.

And so malicious did their rancor rise,
That they the holy Temple did defile,
All such as came to offer sacrifice,
They murdered straight, remorce they did exile :
The Sacrificer with the sacrifice,
Both bath'd in blood, men saw before their eyes.

Thus did they make the sacred Temple there,
The slaughter house of many a humane soule,
So that the marble pauement euery where,
Was blacke with blood like to a butchers bowle :
And with the fat of men so slippery made.
That there for falling, none could goe vnstayd.

And by this wicked meanes it came to passe,
The streets and temple full of dead-men lay,
With wounds putrified, where no buriall was,
Which rais'd a grieuous pestilence that day :
So hot, and fell, that thereof dyed a number,
Whose foule infection all the towne did cumber.

And that which was more heauie to behold,
As men and women past along the street :
Their weeping eyes did to their hearts vnfold,
A mappe of Murder at their trembling feete :
Some saw their Fathers fetching deadly groanes,
Some their Husbands braines scattered on the stones.

Here lay a woman stabbed to the heart,
There a tender Infant one a souldiers speare,
Strugling with death, and sprawling with each part :
The channels ran with purple blood each wheare :
A thousand persons might you daily see,
Some gasping, groaning, bleeding fresh to bee.

Lo, all this mischiefe was within the towne
Wrought twixt themselues in wonderous hatefull sort,
While noble Tytus beat their bulwarkes downe,
And at their walles did shew them warlike sport :
But by distresse to bring them vnto thrall,
He brake their pipes, and stopt their cundits all.