A medicinable morall, that is, the two bookes of Horace his satyres, Englyshed accordyng to the prescription of saint Hierome. The wailyngs of the prophet Hieremiah, done into Englyshe verse. Also epigrammes. T. Drant. Perused and allowed accordyng to the Quenes Maiesties iniunctions

¶ The fyfth Chapter Ieremies prayer.

REmembre Lorde what hath bety••e to vs beholde and see Our opprobryes, and what they are, and éeke are lyke to be. Our heritaunce is cut of quyte, and turnde to folke prophaine, Our houses by the aliauntes the barberouse is tayne. Our mothers (sillie as they be) like wydowes, sytt alone,

Orphanes are we pore Orphanes we, and father haue we none. We boughte the water whiche we druncke, for wood our coyne we payde, Our neckes were hamperde vnder yoke, restlesse fainte, and ill stayde. To Egipte, and Assiria, our hande of league we lente: That we might haue a smal of bred, our carcas to contente. Our parentes they transgreste thy law, and now they are no more, And we their burthynouse offence, and masse of trespasse bore. Slaues ruled vs, and none woulde ryd vs, from their handes, and gyues We earnde our bread with extreme toyle, and hasarde of our lyues: Because of wastefull sworde that from, the deserte did issue. Our skinne is blacke throughe pauling pyne, and lyke to soote in hue. The wedded wyfes in Tsion towne, were wickedlie defeilde, And Iudas virgins, were deflourde (all chastitie exilde? The princes and the potentates, are hanged by the handes, No man in feare, or reuerence, of elders vysage standes. Our yonge men, lyke to vylaine thraw••es, in drudgerie did grinde, Our children, (babes infortunate) to gallowes were assignde. The elders rauishte from the genets, the yonge men from their songes,

Our ioyful harte is gone, our daunce is whyninge at our wronges. Our glittringe crowne, our temple braue, the lorde did quyte fordoe, Woe euer woe, and out alas, that we haue sinned so. Our hearte with sadnesse is surchargde, our eyes can sée no whit, Because mounte Tsion is forsakte, and foxes run on it. But thou, O Lorde for euer standes, Ay•• duringe is thy throne, Why doste thou stil forsake vs, (Lorde) still leauinge vs alone? Turne, O Lorde, turne thée vnto vs, that we maye turne to thée, And make our dayes as at the firste, from sinne, and mischiefes frée. But thou haste clearely caste vs of, and mells with vs no more, Thou arte no doubte (Lorde) throughlie chafte, and angerde verye sore.

FINIS.