Poems By the most deservedly Admired Mrs Katherine Philips: The matchless Orinda. To which is added Monsieur Corneille's Pompey & Horace Tragedies. With several other Translations out of French |
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Death.
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Death.
1
How weak a Star doth rule Mankind,Which owes its ruine to the same
Causes which Nature had design'd
To cherish and preserve the frame!
2
As Commonwealths may be secure,And no remote Invasion dread;
Yet may a sadder fall endure
From Traitors in their bosom bred:
120
3
So while we feel no violence,And on our active Health do trust,
A secret hand doth snatch us hence,
And tumbles us into the dust.
4
Yet carelesly we run our race,As if we could Death's summons wave;
And think not on the narrow space
Between a Table and a Grave.
5
But since we cannot Death reprieve,Our Souls and Fame we ought to mind,
For they our Bodies will survive;
That goes beyond, this stays behind.
6
If I be sure my Soul is safe,And that my Actions will provide
My Tomb a nobler Epitaph,
Then that I onely liv'd and dy'd.
7
So that in various accidentsI Conscience may and Honour keep;
I with that ease and innocence
Shall die, as Infants go to sleep.
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