"Sonety, jaká slast..."
Ivan Blatný

Anna Locková - sonetové parafráze žalmu 51 (1 incipit = 1 verš žalmu)

21. června 2007 v 11:12 | Anna Locková |  Sonety
[1] v.1

HAve mercy, God, for thy great mercies sake,
O God: my God, unto my shame I say,
Beynge fled from thee, so as I dred to take
Thy name in wretched mouth, and feare to pray
Or aske the mercy that I have abusde.
But, God of mercy, let me come to thee:
Not for justice, that justly am accusde:
Which self word Justice so amaseth me,
That scarce I dare thy mercy sound againe.
But mercie, Lord, yet suffer me to crave.
Mercie is thine: Let me not crye in vaine,
Thy great mercie for my great fault to have.
Have mercie, God, pitie my penitence
With greater mercie than my great offfence.
[2]v. 1
My many sinnes in nomber are encreast,
With weight wherof in sea of depe despeire
My sinking soule is now so sore opprest,
That now in peril and in present fere,
I crye: susteine me, Lord, and Lord I pray,
With endlesse nomber of thy mercies take
The endlesse nomber of my sinnes away.
So by thy mercie, for thy mercies sake,
Rue on me, Lord, releve me with thy grace,
My sinne is cause that I so nede to have
Thy mercies ayde in my so woefull case:
My synne is cause that scarce I dare to crave
Thy mercie manyfolde, whiche onely may
Releve my soule, and take my sinnes away
[3] v. 2
So foule is sinne and lothesome in thy sighte,
So foule with sinne I see my selfe to be,
That till from sinne I may be washed white,
So foule I dare not, Lord, approche to thee.
Ofte hath thy mercie washed me before,
Thou madest me cleane: but I am foule againe.
Yet washe me Lord againe, and washe me more,
Washe me, O Lord, and do away the staine
Of uggly sinnes that in my soule appere.
Let flow thy plentuous streames of clensing grace,
Washe me againe, yea washe me every where,
Bothe leprous bodie and defiled face.
Yea washe me all, for I am all uncleane.
And from my sin, Lord, cleanse me ones againe.

[4] v. 3
Have mercie, Lord, have mercie: for I know
How muche I nede thy mercie in this case.
The horror of my gilt doth dayly growe,
And growing weares my feble hope of grace.
I fele and suffer in my thralled brest
Secret remorse and gnawing of my hart.
I fele my sinne, my sinne that hath opprest
My soule with sorrow and surmounting smart.
Drawe me to mercie: for so oft as I
Presume to mercy to direct my sight,
My Chaos and my heape of sinne doth lie,
Betwene me and thy mercies shining light.
What ever way I gaze about for grace,
My filth and fault are ever in my face.
[5] v. 4
Graunt thou me mercy, Lord: thee thee alone
I have offended, and offendyng thee,
For mercy loe, how I do lye and grone,
Thou with all-pearcing eye beheldest me,
Without regard that sinned in thy sight.
Beholde againe, how now my spirite it rues,
And wailes the tyme, when I with foule delight
Thy swete forbearing mercy did abuse.
My cruell conscience with sharpned knife
Doth splat my ripped hert, and layes abrode
The lothesome secretes of my filthy life,
And spredes them forth before the face of God.
Whom shame from dede shamelesse cold not restrain,
Shame for my dede is added to my paine.
[6] v.4
But mercy Lord, O Lord, some pitie take,
Withdraw my soule from the deserved hell,
O Lord of glory, for thy glories sake:
That I may saved of thy mercy tell,
And shew how thou, which mercy hast behight
To sighyng sinners, that have broke thy lawes.
Performest mercy:so as in the sight
Of them that judge the justice of thy cause
Thou onely just be demed, and no moe,
The worldes unjustice wholy to confound:
That damning me to depth of during woe
Just in thy judgement shouldest thou be found:
And from deserved flames relevyng me
Just in thy mercy mayst thou also be.

[7] v.5
For lo, in sinne, Lord, I begotten was,
With sede and shape my sinne I toke also,
Sinne is my nature and my kinde alas,
In sinne my mother me conceived: Lo
I am but sinne, and sinfull ought to dye,
Dye in his wrath that hath forbydden sinne.
Such bloome and frute loe sinne doth multiplie,
Such was my roote, such is my juyse within.
I plead not this as to excuse my blame,
On kynde or parentes myne owne gilt to lay:
But by disclosing of my sinne, my shame,
And nede of helpe, the plainer to displaye
Thy mightie mercy, if with plenteous grace
My plenteous sinnes it please thee to deface.
[8] v.6
Thou lovest simple sooth, not hidden face
With trutheles visour of deceiving showe.
Lo simplie, Lord, I do confesse my case,
And simplie crave thy mercy in my woe.
This secrete wisedom hast thou graunted me,
To se my sinnes, & whence my sinnes do growe:
This hidden knowledge have I learnd of thee,
To fele my sinnes, and howe my sinnes do flowe
With such excesse, that with unfained hert
Dreding to drowne, my Lorde, lo how I flee,
Simply with teares bewailyng my desert,
Releved simply by thy hand to be.
Thou lovest truth, thou taughtest me the same.
Helpe, Lord of truth, for glory of thy name.
[9] v.7
With swete Hysope besprinkle thou my sprite:
Not such hysope, nor so besprinkle me,
As law unperfect shade of perfect lyght
Did use as an apointed signe to be
Foreshewing figure of thy grace behight.
With death and bloodshed of thine only sonne.
The swete hysope, cleanse me defyled wyght.
Sprinkle my soule. And when thou so hast done
Bedeawd with droppes of mercy and of grace,
I shalbe cleane as cleansed of my synne.
Ah wash me, Lord: for I am foule alas:
That only canst, Lord, wash me well within.
Wash me, O Lord: when I am washed soe,
I shalbe whiter than the whitest snowe.
[10] v.8
Long have I heard, & yet I heare the soundes
Of dredfull threates and thonders of the law,
Which Eccho of my gylty minde resoundes,
And with redoubled horror doth so draw
My listening soule from mercies gentle voice,
That louder, Lorde, I am constraynde to call:
Lorde, pearce myne eares, & make me to rejoyse,
When I shall heare, and when thy mercy shall
Sounde in my hart the gospell of thy grace.
Then shalt thou geve my hearing joy againe,
The joy that onely may releve my case.
And then my broosed bones, that thou with paine
Hast made to weake my febled corps to beare,
Shall leape for joy, to shewe myne inward chere.
[11] v.9
Loke on me, Lord: though trembling I beknowe,
That sight of sinne so sore offendeth thee,
That seing sinne, how it doth overflowe
My whelmed soule, thou canst not loke on me,
But with disdaine, with horror and despite.
Loke on me, Lord: but loke not on my sinne.
Not that I hope to hyde it from thy sight,
Which seest me all without and eke within.
But so remove it from thy wrathfull eye,
And from the justice of thyne angry face,
That thou impute it not. Looke not how I
Am foule by sinne: but make me by thy grace
Pure in thy mercies sight, and, Lord, I pray,
That hatest sinne, wipe all my sinnes away.
[12] v.10
Sinne and despeir have so possest my hart,
And hold my captive soule in such restraint,
As of thy mercies I can fele no part,
But still in languor do I lye and faint.
Create a new pure hart within my brest:
Myne old can hold no liquour of thy grace.
My feble faith with heavy lode opprest
Staggring doth scarcely creepe a reeling pace.
And fallen it is to faint to rise againe.
Renew, O Lord, in me a constant sprite,
That stayde with mercy may my soule susteine,
A sprite so setled and so firmely pight
Within my bowells, that it never move,
But still uphold th'assurance of thy love.
[13] v.11
Loe prostrate, Lorde, before thy face I lye,
With sighes depe drawne depe sorow to expresse,
O Lord of mercie, mercie do I crye:
Dryve me not from thy face in my distresse,
Thy face of mercie and of swete relefe,
The face that fedes angels with onely sight,
The face of comfort in extremest grefe.
Take not away the succour of thy sprite,
Thy holy sprite, which is myne onely stay,
The stay that when despeir assaileth me,
In faintest hope yet moveth me to pray,
To pray for mercy, and to pray to thee.
Lord, cast me not from presence of thy face,
Nor take from me the spirite of thy grace.

[14] v.12
But render me my wonted joyes againe,
Which sinne hath reft, and planted in theyr place
Doubt of thy mercy ground of all my paine.
The tast, that thy love whilome did embrace
My chearfull soule, the signes that dyd assure
My felyng ghost of favor in thy sight,
Are fled from me, and wretched I endure
Senslesse of grace the absence of thy sprite.
Restore my joyes, and make me fele againe
The swete retorne of grace that I have lost,
That I may hope I pray not all in vayne.
With thy free sprite confirme my feble ghost,
To hold my faith from ruine and decay
With fast affiance and assured stay.
[15] v.13
Lord, of thy mercy if thou me withdraw
From gaping throte of depe devouring hell,
Loe, I shall preach the justice of thy law:
By mercy saved, thy mercy shall I tell.
The wicked I will teache thyne only way,
Thy wayes to take, and mans devise to flee
And suche as lewd delight hath ledde astray
To rue theyr errour and returne to thee.
So shall the profe of myne example preache
The bitter frute of lust and foule delight:
So shall my pardon by thy mercy teache
The way to finde swete mercy in thy sight.
Have mercy, Lorde, in me example make
Of law and mercy, for thy mercies sake.
[16] v.14
O God, God of my health, my saving God,
Have mercy Lord, and shew thy might to save,
Assoile me, God, from gilt of guiltlesse blod.
And eke from sinne that I ingrowing have
By fleshe and bloud and by corrupted kinde,
Upon my bloud and soule extend not, Lorde,
Vengeance for bloud, but mercy let me finde,
And strike me not with thy revengyng sworde.
So, Lord, my joying tong shall talke thy praise,
Thy name my mouth shall utter in delight,
My voice shall sounde thy justice, and thy waies,
Thy waies to justifie thy sinfull wight.
God of my health, from bloud I saved so
Shall spred thy prayse for all the world to know.
[17] v.15
Lo straining crampe of colde despeir againe
In feble brest doth pinche my pinyng hart,
So as in greatest nede to cry and plaine
My speache doth faile to utter thee my smart.
Refreshe my yeldyng hert, with warming grace,
And loose my speche, and make me call to thee.
Lord open thou my lippes to shewe my case,
My Lord, for mercy Loe to thee I flee.
I can not pray without thy movyng ayde.
Ne can I ryse, ne can I stande alone.
Lord, make me pray, & graunt when I have praide,
Lord loose my lippes, I may expresse my mone,
And findyng grace with open mouth I may
Thy mercies praise, and holy name display.
[18] v.16
Thy mercies praise, instede of sacrifice,.
With thankfull minde so shall I yeld to thee.
For it it were delitefull in thine eyes,
Whereby mought thy wrath appeased be,
Of cattel slayne and burnt with sacred flame
Up to the heaven the vaprie smoke to send:
Of gyltlesse beastes, to purge my gilt and blame,
On altars broylde the savour shold ascend,
To pease thy wrath. But thy swete sonne alone,
With one sufficing sacrifice for all
Appeaseth thee, and maketh the at one
With sinfull man, and hath repaird our fall.
That sacred hoste is ever in thine eyes.
The praise of that I yeld for sacrifice.
[19] v.17
I yeld my self, I offer up my ghoste,
My slayne delightes, my dyeng hart to thee.
To God a trobled sprite is pleasing hoste.
My trobled sprite doth drede like him to be,
In whome tastlesse languor with lingring paine
Hath febled so the starved appetite,
That foode to late is offred all in vaine,
To holde in fainting corps the fleing sprite.
My pining soule for famine of thy grace
So feares alas the faintnesse of my faithe.
I offre up my trobled sprite: alas,
My trobled sprite refuse not in thy wrathe,
Such offring likes thee, ne wilt thou despise
The broken humbled hart in angry wise.
[20] v.18
Shew mercie, Lord, not unto me alone:
But stretch thy favor and thy pleased will,
To sprede thy bountie and thy grace upon
Sion, for Sion is thy holly hyll:
That thy Hierusalem with mighty wall
May be enclosed under thy defense,
And bylded so that it may never fall
By myning fraude or mighty violence.
Defend thy chirch, Lord, and advaunce it soe,
So in despite of tyrannie to stand,
That trembling at thy power the world may know
It is upholden by thy mighty hand:
That Sion and Hierusalem may be
A safe abode for them that honor thee.
[21] v.19
Then on thy hill, and in thy walled towne,
Thou shalt receave the pleasing sacrifice,
The brute shall of thy praised name resoune
In thankfull mouthes, and then with gentle eyes
Thou shalt behold upon thine altar lye
Many a yelden host of humbled hart,
And round about them shall thy people crye:
We praise thee, God our God: thou onley art
The God of might, of mercie, and of grace.
That I then, Lorde, may also honor thee,
Releve my sorow, and my sinnes deface:
Be, Lord of mercie, mercifull to me:
Restore my feling of thy grace againe:
Assure my soule, I crave it not in vaine.

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