DEATH is my doom, awarded by Disdain,
A lingʻring death that will not let me die:
This length of life is length'ning of my pain,
And length of pain gets strength of pain thereby :
And strength of pain makes pain of longer last;
Ah, who hath tied my life to pain so fast?
I seem as if I did but feign,
Or make my grief much greater than I need,
When as the care to hide my burning pain,
With secret sighs, constrains my heart to bleed.
Yet well I wot, believ'da I shall not be,
Until by death a proof thereof you see.
But if this lodge, the witness of my woe,
Whose stony walls unheard my plaints contain,
Had sense to feel, and tongue my pain to show,
Which he inclos'd, I utter all in vain,
You soon should know that most I make my moan,
Alone, if he that loves can be alone.
This poem is omitted in the first and second editions.
Why should I seek to make my shame be known,
That foolish Love is causer of my pain?
Forgive me, Love, the speech is not mine own,
But so they speak that thee and thine disdain.
And I myself confess my skill too small,
To plead for love, and clear myself withal.
What reason can my simple wit devise,
Why bootless grief should thus my
mind afflict?
I love the thoughts that love itself despise,
I seek for that, I never look to find.
Oft have I heard, for which I think I die,
Thine angry tongue all kind of love defy.
Yet is my life upon thy promise stay'd,
By which thou hast assur'd me of thy love;
And though thereby my heat be not allay'd,
No stay of flight, where gain is still above.
Yet since thy heart can yield to love no more,
I rest content, although I die therefore.
QUIS DEUS OPPOSUIT NOSTRIS SUA NUMINA VOTIS?
dor. edit. 1608. on. edit. 1621.
THOUGH late my heart, yet turn at last,
And shape thy course another way;
"Tis better lose thy labour past,
Than follow on to sure decay.
What though thou long have stray'd away?
In hope of grace for mercy cry.
Though weight of sin doth press thee down,
And keep thee grov❜ling on the ground;
Though black Despair, with angry frown,
Thy wit and judgment quite confound;
Though time and wit have been misspent,
Yet grace is left if thou repent.
Weep then, my heart, weep still and still,
Nay, melt to floods of flowing tears;
Send out such shrieks as heav'n may fill,
And pierce thine angry Judge's ears,
And let thy soul, that harbours sin,
Bleed streams of blood, to drown it in.
This poem is also amitted in the first and second editions. f aw'ry.-Lee Priory edition.
Then shall thine angry Judge's face
To cheerful looks itself apply;
Then shall thy soul be fill'd with grace,
And fear of death constrain'd to fly.
Even so, my God! oh when? how long?
I would, but Sin is too too strong.
I strive to rise; Sin keeps me down,
I fly from Sin; Sin follows me.
My will doth reach at glory's crown,
Weak is my strength, it will not be.
See how my fainting soul doth pant;
Oh let thy strength supply my want."
f The second edition concluded with this poem.
EPITAPH UPON THE HEART OF
LATE KING OF FRANCE AND POLAND;
SLAIN 1589, BY A JACOBIN FRIAR.
UPON THE TOMB OF HIS HEART IN THE CHURCH OF SAINT CLOUD, NEAR PARIS; ADJOINING TO THE HOUSE WHERE HE WAS SLAIN.
Adsta viator et dole Regum vicem!
Cor Regis isto conditum est sub marmore,
Qui jura Gallis, jura Sarmatis dedit.
Tectus Cucullo hunc sustulit Sicarius;
Abi Viator, et dole Regum vicem!
THUS PARAPHRASTICALLY ENGLISHED.
WHETHER thy choice, or chance, thee hither brings
Stay, passenger, and wail the hap of kings.
This little stone a great king's heart doth hold,
That rul'd the fickle French, and Polacks bold:
Whom with a mighty warlike host attended,
With traitorous knife, a cowled monster ended.
So frail are e'en the highest earthly things.
Go, passenger, and wail the hap of Kings!
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