COUNSEL IN VIEW OF DEATH
(After Elis Wyn, 1671-1734, one of the Welsh Classics)
| Leave your land,
your goods lay down! Life's green tree shall soon grow brown. Pride of birth and pleasure gay Renounce or they shall own you! Manly strength and beauty fair, Dear-bought sense, experience rare, Learning ripe, companions fond Yield, lest their bond ensnare you! Is there then no sure relief, Thou arch-murderer and thief, Death, from thine o'ermastering law— Thy monstrous maw can none shun? O ye rich, in all your pride Through the ages would ye bide, Wherefore not with Death compound, Ere underground he hide you? Lusty athlete, light of foot, Death, the Bowman's fell pursuit Challenge! O, the laurels won, If thou but shun his shooting! Travellers by sea and land On remotest mount or strand, Have ye found one secret spot Where Death is not commanding? Learned scholar, jurist proud, Lifted god-like o'er the crowd, Can your keenest counsel's aid Dispel Death's shade enshrouding? Fervent faith, profound repentance, Holy hours of stern self-sentence— These alone can victory bring When Death's dread sting shall wring us. |