INFANT SORROW
My mother groand! my father wept.
Into the dangerous world I leapt:
Helpless, naked, piping loud;
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
5 Struggling in my fathers bands:
Striving against my swadling bands:
Bound and weary I thought best
To sulk upon my mothers breast.
When I saw that rage was vain
10 And to sulk would nothing gain
Turning many a trick or wile
I began to soothe & smile
And I grew day after day
Till upon the ground I stray
15 And I grew night after night
Seeking only for delight
And I saw before me shine
Clusters of the wandring vine
And beyond a mirtle tree
20 Stretchd its blossoms out to me
But a Priest [My Father] with holy look
In his hand a holy book
Pronouncd curses on his head
Who the fruit or blossoms shed
25 I beheld the Priest by night
He embracd my mirtle bright
I beheld the Priest by day
Where beneath my vine he lay
Like a serpent in the night
30 He embracd my mirtle bright
Like a serpent in the day
Underneath my vine he lay
So I smote him & his gore
Staind the roots my mirtle bore
35 But the time of youth is fled
And grey hairs are on my head