Prison-Pietie or, Meditations Divine and Moral. Digested into Poetical Heads, On Mixt and Various Subjects. Whereunto is added A Panegyrick to The Right Reverend, and most Nobly descended, Henry, Lord Bishop of London. By Samuel Speed, Prisoner in Ludgate, London |
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The Grave. |
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76
The Grave.
Though Clay, my Cottage is secure:Princes do dwell with me;
And my foundations do endure
for aye.
Death waits on me, and with his dart
Sends me the stoutest he,
And, Champion-like, commands the heart
to stay.
Then be he Rich, or be he Poor,
A Spark, or else a Clown,
They lie together on the floor,
and so
They sleep as if they lay upon
The softest Bed of Down.
Troubles are fled, and Griefs are gone:
for though
The Body naked in the cold Earth lies,
The Soul sings Hallelujahs 'bove the Skies.
| Prison-Pietie | |