The Translation of the First Psalme
WHo neuer gaue to wicked read, A yeelding and attentiue eare: Who neuer Sinners paths did tread; Nor sate him downe in Scorners chaire: But maketh it his whole delight, On Law of God to meditate, And therein spendeth day and Night; That Man is in a happie State. He shall be like the fruitfull Tree, Planted along a running Spring, Which in due season, constantly, A goodly yeeld of Fruit doth bring, Whose leaues continue alwaies greene, And are no prey to winters power: So shall that Man not once be seene Surprized with an euill Hower. With Wicked Men it is not so, Their Lot is of another kinde: All as the Chaffe, which too and fro, Is tost at Mercie of the winde. And when he shall in Iudgment plead, A casting Sentence bide he must: So shall he not lift vp his Head, In the Assembly of the Iust. For why the Lord hath Speciall Eye, To be the Godlies stay at call: And hath giuen ouer, righteously, The wicked Man to take his fall.
Francis Bacon’s other poems:
