 | Sinetes (1597) |  |
PASSION. XXXVII.
[Oft haue I sightht, and to my selfe thus sayde]
Oft haue I sightht, and to my selfe thus sayde,
O poore vnhappie relique left to paine,
Thus wrong'd by death which hath my death delayed
Whose eares thou filst, with prayers though in vaine:
Leaue to intreate the fiend that forst to fall,
And doth triumph thus glutted with thy thrall.
O poore vnhappie relique left to paine,
Thus wrong'd by death which hath my death delayed
Whose eares thou filst, with prayers though in vaine:
Leaue to intreate the fiend that forst to fall,
And doth triumph thus glutted with thy thrall.
Seest not that time cannot so long endure,
But that thou must needes haue some speedy end,
Of that which doth thy sorrowes thus procure,
What needeth then thy breath in vaine to spend:
For date of time which shortly wastes away,
Being once expir'd, thy sorrowes must decay.
But that thou must needes haue some speedy end,
Of that which doth thy sorrowes thus procure,
What needeth then thy breath in vaine to spend:
For date of time which shortly wastes away,
Being once expir'd, thy sorrowes must decay.
The greatest fier Pirackmon sendeth forth,
Will soone be quench'd, when matter none is left,
And here we see that men of greatest worth,
When sap is gone, will soone of breath bereft:
Why should I thinke death would my time delay,
Syth that which feedeth life doth fade away.
Will soone be quench'd, when matter none is left,
And here we see that men of greatest worth,
When sap is gone, will soone of breath bereft:
Why should I thinke death would my time delay,
Syth that which feedeth life doth fade away.
Nothing so hard but time at last doth weare,
Naught wanteth rest but will consume in fine,
How can my heart which doth my sorrowes beare,
Chuse but with speede consume away and pine,
Death will at last stretch out his angrie arme,
Inforst by time, to end my endlesse harme.
Naught wanteth rest but will consume in fine,
How can my heart which doth my sorrowes beare,
Chuse but with speede consume away and pine,
Death will at last stretch out his angrie arme,
Inforst by time, to end my endlesse harme.
| Sinetes (1597) | |