Upon the earth he looketh down,
Which shrinks and trembles at his frown:
His lightnings touch, or thunders stroak,
Will make the proudest mountains smoak.

To him my ditties, whilst I live,
Or being have, shall praises give:
My meditations will be sweet,
When fixt on him my comforts meet.

Upon the earth let sinners rot,
In place, and memory forgot.
But thou, my soul, thy maker bless:
Let all the world his praise express;

Footnotes:
1. Athen. Oxon, vol. ii. p. 431. 1721 Ed.
2. Wood Athen. Oxon, p. 431, vol. 2.

* * * * *




PHILIP MASSINGER,


A poet of no small eminence, was son of Mr. Philip Massinger, a
gentleman belonging to the earl of Montgomery, in whose service he