University of Virginia Library

Non temete, la morte solamente e cattiva a cativa Gente.

O death, the hatefull issue of mans sinne,
Who since thy birth, dost greedily devour
Thy Parents children! Oh what canst thou winne
In browzing a soft twigge before his houre?
What hast thou thereby doon, but given him pow'r
(As Justices their passe-ports wont to grant)
To passe hence freely to that sacred bow'r,
(The bow'r of blisse,) where blessed Angels haunt?
Henceforth I feare thee lesse, who dost but send
Poore Pilgrims sooner to their wearie journeyes end.