The complete works of John Lyly now for the first time collected and edited from the earliest quartos with life, bibliography, essays, notes and index by R. Warwick Bond |
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The complete works of John Lyly | ||
14. A Dittie, wherein the brevitie of man's life is described, how soone his pompe vanisheth away, and he brought to his latest home.
The statelie pine whose braunches spreade so faire,
By winde or weather wasted is at length;
The sturdie oake that clymeth in the ayre,
In time dooth lose his beautie and his strength;
The fayrest flower that florisht as to daie,
To-morrow seemeth like the withered haie.
By winde or weather wasted is at length;
The sturdie oake that clymeth in the ayre,
In time dooth lose his beautie and his strength;
The fayrest flower that florisht as to daie,
To-morrow seemeth like the withered haie.
So fares it with the present state of man,
Whose showe of healthe dooth argue manie yeeres:
But as his life is likened to a span,
So suddaine sicknes pulles him from his peeres;
And where he seemde for longer time to-daie,
To-morrow lies he as a lumpe of clay.
Whose showe of healthe dooth argue manie yeeres:
But as his life is likened to a span,
So suddaine sicknes pulles him from his peeres;
And where he seemde for longer time to-daie,
To-morrow lies he as a lumpe of clay.
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The infant yong, the milk-white aged head,
The gallant youth that braveth with the best,
We see with earth are quickly over-spreade,
And both alike brought to their latest rest:
As soone to market commeth to be solde,
The tender lambe's skin, as the weather's old.
The gallant youth that braveth with the best,
We see with earth are quickly over-spreade,
And both alike brought to their latest rest:
As soone to market commeth to be solde,
The tender lambe's skin, as the weather's old.
Death is not partiall: as the proverbe saies,
The prince and peasant both with him are one;
The sweetest face that's painted now a daies,
And highest head, set forth with pearle and stone,
When he hath brought them to the earthly grave,
Beare no more reckoning then the poorest slave.
The prince and peasant both with him are one;
The sweetest face that's painted now a daies,
And highest head, set forth with pearle and stone,
When he hath brought them to the earthly grave,
Beare no more reckoning then the poorest slave.
The wealthy chuffe, that makes his gold his god,
And scrapes and scratches all the mucke he may;
And with the world dooth play at even and od;
When Death thinks good to take him hence away,
Hath no more ritches in his winding-sheete,
Then the poore soule that sterved in the streete.
And scrapes and scratches all the mucke he may;
And with the world dooth play at even and od;
When Death thinks good to take him hence away,
Hath no more ritches in his winding-sheete,
Then the poore soule that sterved in the streete.
Unhappie man! that runneth on thy race,
Not minding where thy crased bones must rest:
But woe to thee that doost forget thy place,
Purchast for thee, to live amongst the blest.
Spend then thy life in such a good regard,
That Christe's blessing may be thy reward!
Not minding where thy crased bones must rest:
But woe to thee that doost forget thy place,
Purchast for thee, to live amongst the blest.
Spend then thy life in such a good regard,
That Christe's blessing may be thy reward!
The complete works of John Lyly | ||