He cometh forth like a Flower and is cut downe.
JOB 14. 2.
1
Behold
How short a span
Was long enough, of old,
To measure out the life of Man!
In those wel temper'd days his time was then
Survey'd, cast up, and found but threescore years and ten.
2
Alas
And what is that?
They come and slide and pass
Before my Pen can tell thee, what.
The Posts of Time are swift, which having run
Their sev'n short stages o're, their short liv'd task is done.
3
Our daies
Begun, wee lend
To sleepe, to antick plaies
And Toyes, untill the first stage end:
12. waining Moons, twise 5. times told, we give
To unrecover'd loss: Wee rather breathe, than live.
4
Wee spend
A ten years breath,
Before wee apprehend
What is to live, or feare a death:
Our childish dreams are fil'd with painted joys,
Which please our sense a while; and waking, prove but Toies.
5
How vaine
How wretched is
Poore man, that doth remain
A slave to such a State as this!
His daies are short, at longest; few, at most;
They are but bad, at best; yet lavisht out, or lost.
6
They bee
The secret Springs,
That make our minits flee
On wheeles more swift then Eagles wings:
Our life's a Clocke, and ev'ry gaspe of breath
Breathes forth a warning grief, til Time shal strike a death.
7
How soone
Our new-born Light
Attaines to full-ag'd noone!
And this, how soon to gray-hayr'd night!
Wee spring, we bud, we blossome, and we blast
E're we can count our daies; Our daies they flee so fast.
8
They end
When scarce begun;
And ere wee apprehend
That we begin to live, our life is don:
Man, Count thy daies; And if they flee too fast
For thy dull thoughts to count, count ev'rie day thy last.
Our Infancy is counted in eating and sleeping; in all which time what differ
we from the beasts, but by a possibility of reason, and a necessity of sinne?
O misery of mankind, in whom no sooner the Image of God appeares in the act
of Reason, but the Devill blurres it in the corruption of his will!
