A briefe sonet declaring the lamentation of Beckles, a Market Towne in Suffolke which was in the great winde vpon S. Andrewes eue pitifully burned with fire to the value by estimation of tweentie thousande pounds. And to the number of fourescore dwelling houses, besides a great number of other houses. 1586.
To the tune of Labandalashotte.
MY louing good neighbours, that comes to beholde,
Me sillie poore Beckles, in cares manyfolde,
In sorrow all drowned, which floated of late,
With teares all bedewed, at my wofull state,
With fire is consumed, most wofull to vewe,
Whose spoile thy poore people, for euer may rue,
When well you haue vewed [...] decay,
And pittie haue pierced, your heartes it may,
Say thus my good neighbours that God in his ire:
For sinne hath consumed pore Beckles with Fire
For one onely parish, my selfe I mought vaunt,
To match with the brauest, for who but will graunt?
The Sea and the Countrey, me fitting so nye,
The fresh water Riuer, so sweete running by,
My medowes and commons, such prospect of health,
My Fayers in somer, so garnisht with wealth,
My Market so serued, with corne, flesh, and fish,
And all kinde of victuals, that poore men would wish,
That who but knewe Beckles, with sighing may saye,
Would God of his mercie, had sparde my decaye.
But O my destruction, O most dismall day,
My temple is spoyled, and brought in decay,
My marketsted burned, my beautie defaced,
My wealth ouerwhelmed, my people displaced,
My musicke is wayling, my mirth it is moone,
My ioyes are departed, my comfort is gone,
My people poore creatures, are mourning in woe,
Still wandring not wotting, which waye for to goe,
A rude felowe by fiering his chimney, procured their calamitie.
Like sillie poore Troians, whom Sinon betrayde,
But God of thy mercy, releeue them with ayde,
O daye most vnluckie, the winde lowde in skie,
The water harde frosen, the houses so drye,
To seé such a burning, such flaming of fire,
Such wayling, such crying, through scourge of Gods ire,
Such running, such working, such taking of payne,
Such whirling, such haling, such reauing in vaine,
Such robbing, such stealing, from more to the lesse,
Such dishonest dealing, in time of distresse,
That who so hard hearted, and worne out of grace?
But pittie may pierce him to thinke of my case.
But O my good neighbours, that see mine estate,
Be all one as Christians, not liue in debate,
With wrapping and trapping, each other in thrall,
With watching, and pryeng at each others fall,
With houing, and shouing, and striuing in Lawe,
Of God nor his Gospell, once standing in awe,
Lyue not in heart-burning, at God neuer wrest,
To Christ once be turning, not vse him in test,
Liue louely together and not in discorde,
Let me be your mirrour, to liue in the Lorde.
But though God haue pleased, for sinne to plague me,
Let none thinke there liuing is cause they scape free,
But let them remember, how Christ once did tell,
Their sinnes were not greater, on whom the wall fell,
But least you repent ye, thus much he doth say,
Be sure and certaine ye also decaye,
Let none then perswade them, so free from all thrall,
But that their ill liuing, deserueth a fall,
Thus farewell: forget not, my wofull annoye,
God send you new yeare and
Finis
ꝙ D. STERRI
‘Foelix quem faciunt aliena pericula cantum.’
Ech stately Towre with mightie walles vp prope,
Ech loftie Roofe which golden wealth hath raise?
All flicke ring wealth which flies in firmest hope
All glittering hew so haught and highly praisde
I see by sodaine ruine of Beckles towne
Is but a blast if mightie loue doe frowne.
AT LONDON, Imprinted by Robert Robinson for Nicholas Colman of Norwich, dwelling in S. Andrewes Church yarde.