No flesh can answer their alarms,

Each spear they manage hath so many points.

II.

Death, arm'd in all his horrors, leads:

Whom more I charge, the less he yields:

Affections, with an hundred heads

X.

All this from heaven, thy eyes explore, Yet silent sitt'st, and suffer'st all:

Since all I well deserve, and more; And must confess me wilful in my fall.

XI.

their shields.

III.

Nor look I yet, Lord, to the east,

Nor hope for help, where I am will'd: Nor as I ought, have arm'd my breast; But rust in sloth, and naked come to

field.

IV.

And therefore hath the host of stars Now left me, that before I led :

Arm'd angels took my pay in wars,

Makest all men shun and scorn my life: That all my works such envy breed, And my disgrace gives food to all men's strife.

XII.

But this, since Goodness oft doth cause, And 'tis God's grace to hear his ill.

Since 'tis a chief point in his laws, No thought, without our power, to make our will.

XIII.

here for dead.

Against this rock with rage be borne: And from their height, still let me fall, Then, stand and laugh, and me lie still

and scorn.