University of Virginia Library


39

Il sonno e una morte vivente.

VVhen I doe weigh how little differing
Life is from death, how little or nought at all
Death is from sleepe, when neere so small a thing
Can make them all be transubstantiall,
Oh what amazement on my minde doth fall!
And I do wonder how I sleepe or wake,
Sith unto death, in nature they so neere partake.
And in the morning after quiet sleepe,
When I consider to how weake a guard
My pretious life I did commit to keepe,
Being for death a thing not very hard
To seize his brothers right, sith if compar'd,
Sleep's but a breathing death, death breathlesse sleep,
I feeele a tingling chilnesse over all my bones to creepe.