Classic Poem

Domine, quid sunt multiplicati?

O Lord, that people
A diligent nuyre:
That trouble me, and grievent!
My God, as foes,
That the fields are mys,
And against me is eslevent!

I certainly several voy,
Who will say of me
Its strength is abolished:
More finds in his God
Relief aulcun place:
But it is a eulx folly.

For thou art my very sor
Shield & deffenseur,
And my glory esprouvee:
This toy is in brief talk
Who do that then go
Hault the exercise tests.

Ay I screamed my voice
Maintesfoys the Lord,
Making him my complaincte:
And has repoulse me
But still exaulce
His holy Montaigne.

Including to bed in iray,
In seurte dormiray,
Without craincte of mesgarde:
Then resveilleray me
And fearless veilleray,
Having God for my guard.

Hundred thousand men head
Will not fear me,
Encor qu'ilz the entreprinssent,
And as for me estonner,
Clorre, and surround
Costes all should come to me.

Vien doncq 'declaire toy
For me, my God, my King,
Who buffes renverses
My foes mordants,
And break off their teeth
Perverse in their mouths.

This toy is God treshault,
Who expect fault
Vray relief & deffense:
For people on your estends
Tousjours in place, and time,
Your big 'beneficence.