 | The Anatomie of Hvmors |  |
[73]
HIS DYING SONG.
Circundederunt me dolores mortis, & pericula inferni in venerunt me.
Now haplesse Heart, what can thy sors asswage,
Since thou art gript with horror of deaths hād
Thou (baleful-thou) becoms the Tragick stage,
Where all my tortring thoughts theatred stand,
Grief, feare, death, thoght, each in a mōstrous kinde
Like vgly monsters muster in my minde.
Since thou art gript with horror of deaths hād
Thou (baleful-thou) becoms the Tragick stage,
Where all my tortring thoughts theatred stand,
Grief, feare, death, thoght, each in a mōstrous kinde
Like vgly monsters muster in my minde.
Thou loathsome bed to restlesse-martred-Mee,
Voide of repose, fil'd with consuming cares;
I will breath forth my wretched life on thee,
For quenchlesse wo and paine, my graue prepares
Vnto pale-agonizing-Death am thrall,
Then must I goe and answere to his call.
Voide of repose, fil'd with consuming cares;
I will breath forth my wretched life on thee,
For quenchlesse wo and paine, my graue prepares
Vnto pale-agonizing-Death am thrall,
Then must I goe and answere to his call.
O Memorie most bitter to that man,
Whose God is Golde, and hoords it vp in store;
But O that blind-deceiuing-Wealth, what can
It saue a life, or add one minute more?
When he at rest, rich-treasure in his sight,
His Soule (poore foole) is tane away that night.
Whose God is Golde, and hoords it vp in store;
But O that blind-deceiuing-Wealth, what can
It saue a life, or add one minute more?
When he at rest, rich-treasure in his sight,
His Soule (poore foole) is tane away that night.
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And strangers gets the substance of his gaine,
Which he long sought with endles toyles to finde,
This vilde-worlds-filth, and excraments most vaine,
He needs must dye, and leaue it all behinde:
O man in minde remember this, and mourne,
Naked thou cam'st, and Naked must retourne.
Which he long sought with endles toyles to finde,
This vilde-worlds-filth, and excraments most vaine,
He needs must dye, and leaue it all behinde:
O man in minde remember this, and mourne,
Naked thou cam'st, and Naked must retourne.
I naked came, and naked must retourne.
Earths start'ring pleasure is an idle toy;
For now I sweare my very Soule doth spurne,
That breath that froth, that moment-fleeting-joy;
Then fare-well World, let him betrai'd still bost
Of all mischiefe that in Thee trusteth most.
Earths start'ring pleasure is an idle toy;
For now I sweare my very Soule doth spurne,
That breath that froth, that moment-fleeting-joy;
Then fare-well World, let him betrai'd still bost
Of all mischiefe that in Thee trusteth most.
Burnt Candle, all thy store consum'd thou end's,
Thy lightning splendor threats for to be gone,
O how dost thou resemble Mee that spend's,
And sighs forth life in sighing forth my mone?
Thy light Thee lothes, I loth this lothed life,
Full of deceipt, false-envie, grudge and strife.
Thy lightning splendor threats for to be gone,
O how dost thou resemble Mee that spend's,
And sighs forth life in sighing forth my mone?
Thy light Thee lothes, I loth this lothed life,
Full of deceipt, false-envie, grudge and strife.
I call on Time, Tim's alt'red by the change,
I call on Friends, Friends haue clos'd vp their eares;
I call on Earthly-powers, and they are strange,
I call in vaine when Pittie none appeares.
Both Time and Friends, both Earthly-powers and al,
All in disdaine are deafe at my hoarse call.
I call on Friends, Friends haue clos'd vp their eares;
I call on Earthly-powers, and they are strange,
I call in vaine when Pittie none appeares.
Both Time and Friends, both Earthly-powers and al,
All in disdaine are deafe at my hoarse call.
Then Prayer flow from my heart-humbling-knees
To the supreame Cœlestiall power aspire
Shew thou my grief to Heavens-al-seing-eies
Who never yet deny'd my just desire:
Mans-help is nought, O GOD thy help I craue,
Whose spotles-bloud my spotted-soule did saue.
To the supreame Cœlestiall power aspire
Shew thou my grief to Heavens-al-seing-eies
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Mans-help is nought, O GOD thy help I craue,
Whose spotles-bloud my spotted-soule did saue.
Then take my soule, which bought by thee is thine
Earth-harbring-worms take thou my corps of clay
O Christ on me eternall mercy shine,
Thy bleiding wounds wash all my sins away:
I come, I come, to thee O Jesu sweit,
And in thy hands I recommend my spirit.
Earth-harbring-worms take thou my corps of clay
O Christ on me eternall mercy shine,
Thy bleiding wounds wash all my sins away:
I come, I come, to thee O Jesu sweit,
And in thy hands I recommend my spirit.
FINIS.
| The Anatomie of Hvmors | |