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Sonnet XCIX

Language: English

Oh, whither shall my troubled Muse encline?
[When]1 not the glorious scaffolde of the skies,
Nor highest heaven's resplendent hierarchies,
Where heav'nly soldiours in pure armor shine;
Nor ayer which thy sweete Spirite doth refine,
Nor earth thy precious [bloud]2 unworthy prise,
Nor seas which, when thou list, ebbe and arise;
Nor any creature, profane or divine,
Can blaze the flourish of thy tearmelesse praise;
Surreaching farre, by manifold large space,
All divine fabricke of thy sacred hands;
[Even thither shall my Muse her musicke raise,
Where my soule's everlasting pallace stands, --
Sweete refuge of salvation ! court of grace!]3

View original text (without footnotes)
Note: the title given in publications is "Sonnet LXXXXIX" [sic], but we have translated that to conventional Roman numerals.

1 Dyson: "If"
2 Dyson: "blood's"
3 not set by Dyson.

Submitted by Harry Joelson


Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

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This text (or a part of it) is used in a work

Text added to the website: 2011-03-11.
Last modified: 2014-08-12 12:50:19
Line count: 14
Word count: 100

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