The Worthines of Wales Wherein are more then a thousand seuerall things rehearsed: some set out in prose to the pleasure of the Reader, and with such varietie of verse for the beautifying of the Book, as no doubt shal delight thousands to vnderstand. Which worke is enterlarded with many wonders and right strange matter to consider of: All the which labour and deuice is drawne forth and set out by Thomas Churchyard, to the glorie of God, and honour of his Prince and Countrey |
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A discourse of Tyme.
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 | The Worthines of Wales |  |
A discourse of Tyme.
O Tract
of Tyme, that all consumes to dust,
We hold thee not, for thou art bald behinde:
The fayrest Sword, or mettall thou wilt rust,
And brightest things, bring quickly out of minde.
The trimmest Towers, and Castles great and gay,
In processe long, at length thou doest decay:
The brauest house, and princely buildings rare,
Thou wasts and weares, and leaues the walles but bare.
We hold thee not, for thou art bald behinde:
The fayrest Sword, or mettall thou wilt rust,
And brightest things, bring quickly out of minde.
The trimmest Towers, and Castles great and gay,
In processe long, at length thou doest decay:
The brauest house, and princely buildings rare,
Thou wasts and weares, and leaues the walles but bare.
O Cancker vyle, that creepes in hardest mold,
The Marble stone, or Flint thy force shall feele:
Thou hast a power, to pearce and eate the gold,
Fling downe the strong, and make the stout to reele.
O wasting worme, that eates sweete kernels all,
And makes the Nut, to dust and powder fall:
O glutton great, that feedes on each mans store,
And yet thy selfe, no better art therefore.
The Marble stone, or Flint thy force shall feele:
Thou hast a power, to pearce and eate the gold,
Fling downe the strong, and make the stout to reele.
O wasting worme, that eates sweete kernels all,
And makes the Nut, to dust and powder fall:
O glutton great, that feedes on each mans store,
And yet thy selfe, no better art therefore.
Tyme all consumes, and helps it selfe no whit,
As fire by flame, burnes coales to sinders small:
Tyme steales in man, much like an Agew fit,
That weares the face, the flesh the skinne and all.
O wretched rust, that wilt not scoured bee,
O dreadfull Tyme, the world is feard of thee:
Thou flingest flat, the highest Tree that growes,
And tryumph makes, on pompe and paynted showes.
As fire by flame, burnes coales to sinders small:
Tyme steales in man, much like an Agew fit,
That weares the face, the flesh the skinne and all.
O wretched rust, that wilt not scoured bee,
O dreadfull Tyme, the world is feard of thee:
Thou flingest flat, the highest Tree that growes,
And tryumph makes, on pompe and paynted showes.
But most of all, my muse doth blame thee now,
For throwing downe, a rare and goodly Seate:
By Wrythen Towne, a noble Castle throwe,
That in tyme past, had many a lodging greate,
And Towers most fayre, that long a buylding was,
Where now God wot, there growes nothing but grasse:
The stones lye waste, the walles seemes but a shell
Of little worth, where once a Prince might dwell.
For throwing downe, a rare and goodly Seate:
That in tyme past, had many a lodging greate,
And Towers most fayre, that long a buylding was,
Where now God wot, there growes nothing but grasse:
The stones lye waste, the walles seemes but a shell
Of little worth, where once a Prince might dwell.
| The Worthines of Wales | |