Trivial poems and triolets. Written in obedience to Mrs Tomkin's commands, By Patrick Carey |
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Dies Iræ, Dies Illa.
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 | Trivial poems |  |
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Dies Iræ, Dies Illa.
1
A day full of horrour, mustAll this world dissolue to dust:
Prophets say itt; w'are to trust.
2
What heart will bee uoyd of feareWhen our great judge shall appeare
Strictly each man's cause to heare?
3
A shrill trumpett there will soundAll must rise from under-ground,
And the Judge's throne surround.
4
How astonish'd then will beeDeath and Nature, when they see
From their lawes each body free?
5
A booke where men's deeds are writtShall be read; the Judge to itt
Will th'eternall sentence fitt.
6
Att his sitting, twill be uayneTo conceale a secret stayne;
Nought unpunish'd shall remayne.
7
How shall I that day endure?What friend shall I then procure,
When the just are scarce sicure?
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8
My request doe not reject,Thou that sauest thine elect;
God! of mercy mee protect.
9
Christ! remember in that day,I'me thy sheep, tho' gonne astray!
Leaue mee not to wolues a pray.
10
Weary, oft mee sought thou hast;For mee, nayl'd to the crosse thou wast:
Loose not all this pray'rs att last.
11
Though my sinnes to vast summes mount,Yett thy mercyes them surmount:
O ne're call them to account!
12
I confesse my guilt; th'art meeke:Grant that pardon which I seeke!
Loe, shame's blushes dye each cheeke.
13
Mary, and the theife, scarce leaueSin, but thou doest them receaue;
What hopes hence mayn't I conceaue?
14
True, my prayers deserue not ought;By thy passion th'art besought:
Keepe me from the fiery vault!
15
Mongst the sheepe grant mee a stand;Driue mee from the goat's curs'd band,
Placing mee on thy right hand.
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16
This t'obtayne, my knees I bend;For this, all my prayers I send:
Lord, take care of my last end!
17
O! that day'le cause weeping eyes,When to judgement men shall rise;
'Gainst then, mercy! my soule cryes.
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