A briefe sonet declaring the lamentation of Beckles, a Market Towne in
Suffolke which was in the great winde upon Saint Andrewes eve 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.
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MY loving good neighbours, that comes to beholde,
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Me sillie poore Beckles, in cares manyfolde,
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In sorrow all drowned, which floated of late,
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With teares all bedewed, at my wofull state,
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With fire so consumed, most wofull to vewe,
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Whose spoile thy poore people, for ever may rue,
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When well you have vewed my total decay,
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And pittie have pierced, your heartes as it may,
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Say thus my good neighbours that God in his ire:
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For sinne hath consumed pore Beckles with Fire.
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For one onely parish, my selfe I mought vaunt,
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To match with the bravest, for who but will graunt?
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The Sea and the Countrey, me fitting so nye,
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The fresh water River, so sweete running by,
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My medowes and commons, such prospect of health,
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My Fayers in somer, so garnisht with wealth,
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My Market so served, with corne, flesh, and fish,
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And all kinde of victuals, that poore men would wish,
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That who but knewe Beckles, with sighing may saye,
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Would God of his mercie, had sparde my decaye.
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But O my destruction, O most dismall day,
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My temple is spoyled, and brought in decay,
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My marketsted burned, my beautie defaced,
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My wealth overwhelmed, my people displaced,
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My musicke is wayling, my mirth it is moone,
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My joyes are departed, my comfort is gone,
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My people poore creatures, are mourning in woe,
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Still wandring not wotting, which waye for to goe,
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Like sillie poore Trojans, whom Sinon betrayde,
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But God of thy mercy, releeve them with ayde,
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A rude
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felowe by
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fiering his
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chimney,
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procured
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their ca-
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saulltie.
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O daye most unluckie, the winde lowde in skie,
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The water harde frosen, the houses so drye,
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To see such a burning, such flaming of fire,
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Such wayling, such crying, through scourge of Gods ire,
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Such running, such working, such taking of payne,
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Such whirling, such haling, such reaving in vaine,
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Such robbing, such stealing, from more to the lesse,
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Such dishonest dealing, in time of distresse,
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That who so hard hearted, and worne out of grace?
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But pittie may pierce him to thinke of my case.
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But O my good neighbours, that see mine estate,
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Be all one as Christians, not live in debate,
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With wrapping and trapping, each other in thrall,
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With watching, and pryeng at each others fall,
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With hoving, and shoving, and striving in Lawe,
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Of God nor his Gospell, once standing in awe,
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Lyve not in heart-burning, at God never wrest,
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To Christ once be turning, not use him in jest,
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Live lovely together and not in discorde,
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Let me be your mirrour, to live in the Lorde.
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But though God have pleased, for sinne to plague me,
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Let none thinke there living is cause they scape free,
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But let them remember, how Christ once did tell,
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Their sinnes were not greater, on whom the wall fell,
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But least you repent ye, thus much he doth say,
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Be sure and certaine ye also decaye,
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Let none then perswade them, so free from all thrall,
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But that their ill living, deserveth a fall,
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Thus farewell, forget not, my wofull annoye,
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God send you [good] new yeare and [blesse me with joye]
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