WHat serues it to bee good? Goodnesse by thee
The Holy-wise is thought a Foole to bee,
For thee the Man to Temperance inclin'de,
Is held but of a base and abject Minde,
The Continent is thought for thee but cold,
Who yet was good, that euer died old?
The pittifull who others feares to kill,
Is kill'd himselfe, and Goodnesse doth him ill:
The meeke and humble Man who cannot braue,
By thee is to some Giants Brood made Slaue.
Poore Goodnesse, thine thou to such Wrongs sett'st forth,
That ô! I feare mee, thou art nothing worth:
And when I looke to Earth, and not to Heauen,
Ere I were turned Doue, I would bee Rauen.
Poems: by VVilliam Drummond, of Hawthorne-denne
About this Item
- Title
- Poems: by VVilliam Drummond, of Hawthorne-denne
- Author
- Drummond, William, 1585-1649.
- Publication
- Edinburgh :: Printed by Andro Hart,
- 1616.
- Rights/Permissions
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- Cite this Item
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"Poems: by VVilliam Drummond, of Hawthorne-denne." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A20878.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 5, 2024.