My Spirit's spent: my Daies are don (and leaue me)
The Graue's already ready to receiue me.
Yet are there with me none but those that mock me:
Doth not mine eye still see them still prouoke me?
But, put me in a Surety, giue me Pledge,
To answer me what I shall then alledge.
Who'll vndertake it? VVho will giue his hand,
That to the Triall Thou wilt daign to stand?
Sith Thou, O Lord, Their hearts hast hidden quight,
From Vnderstanding, and from iudging right;
And therefore wilt not, for their Arrogance,
Admit of them, nor them so high aduance.
Not, that I would, they should haue sooth'd me neither:
For such shall perish, and their Seed together.
But, to the Vulgar I am made a Song,
A Tale, a Tabret vnto euery Tongue
(Through grief whereof, mine Eye decaies and dims;
And as a Shadowe are my other Limbs).
The better sort, amazed at my Plight,
The Innocent, iudge me an Hypocrite.
Yet, shall the Righteous still hold on his Course;
And the Sincere shall still adde force to force.
Therefore, my Friends, returne, recant, re-call
Your hard Opinions, and mis-Censures, all:
For, of you all, not one Wise man I finde;
Nor fit Physician for a troubled minde.
My Dayes are past; and my Dessignes vndon;
Yea, euen my Hopes (my hearts Possessions) gon:
My Noone (alas!) is changed into Night;
Small ods there is twixt Darknesse and my Light.
What can I looke for, but among the Dead
To make my House? to haue my Graue, for Bed?
For, to Corruption, thus aloud I call;
Thou art my Father: to the Worms that crawl,
You are my Mother and my Sisters, all.
Where's then my Hope? How shall that Hap appeer,
Which you yer-while did so re-promise, heer?
Those things, with me, shall downe into the Deep:
And, with my Dust, amid the Dust shall sleep.
