 | The poems of John Wilmot: Earl of Rochester |  |
Senecas Troas Act 2d Chor
After Death, nothing is, and nothing Death,The utmost Limit of a gaspe of Breath;
Let the Ambitious Zealot, lay aside
His hopes of Heav'n, (whose faith is but his Pride)
Let Slavish Soules lay by their feare;
Nor be concern'd which way, nor where,
After this Life they shall be hurl'd;
Dead, wee become the Lumber of the World,
And to that Masse of matter shall be swept,
Where things destroy'd, with things unborne, are kept.
Devouring tyme, swallows us whole
Impartiall Death, confounds, Body, and Soule.
For Hell, and the foule Fiend that Rules
Gods everlasting fiery Jayles
(Devis'd by Rogues, dreaded by Fooles)
With his grim griezly Dogg, that keepes the Doore,
Are senselesse Storyes, idle Tales
Dreames, Whimseys, and noe more.
| The poems of John Wilmot: Earl of Rochester | |