Poem by Francis Bacon

The Translation of the First Psalme

WHo neuer gaue to wicked read,
A yeelding and attentiue eare:
Who neuer Sinners paths did tread;
Nor sate him downe in Scorners chaire:
But maketh it his whole delight,
On Law of God to meditate,
And therein spendeth day and Night;
That Man is in a happie State.

He shall be like the fruitfull Tree,
Planted along a running Spring,
Which in due season, constantly,
A goodly yeeld of Fruit doth bring,
Whose leaues continue alwaies greene,
And are no prey to winters power:
So shall that Man not once be seene
Surprized with an euill Hower.

With Wicked Men it is not so,
Their Lot is of another kinde:
All as the Chaffe, which too and fro,
Is tost at Mercie of the winde.
And when he shall in Iudgment plead,
A casting Sentence bide he must:
So shall he not lift vp his Head,
In the Assembly of the Iust.

For why the Lord hath Speciall Eye,
To be the Godlies stay at call:
And hath giuen ouer, righteously,
The wicked Man to take his fall.

1. The Translation of the CXXVIth Psalme
2. Life
3. The Translation of the XIIth Psalm
4. The Translation of the XCth Psalm

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