From The Mount of Olives (1652).
1. [DEATH.]
Draw near, fond man, and dress thee by this glass,
Mark how thy bravery and big looks must pass
Into corruption, rottenness and dust;
The frail supporters which betray'd thy trust.
O weigh in time thy last and loathsome state!
To purchase heav'n for tears is no hard rate.
Our glory, greatness, wisdom, all we have,
If mis-employ'd, but add hell to the grave:
Only a fair redemption of evil times
Finds life in death, and buries all our crimes.
2. [HADRIAN'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOUL.]
My soul, my pleasant soul, and witty,
The guest and consort of my body.
Into what place now all alone
Naked and sad wilt thou be gone?
No mirth, no wit, as heretofore,
Nor jests wilt thou afford me more.
3. [PAULINUS. CARM. APP. I. 35-40.]
What is't to me that spacious rivers run
Whole ages, and their streams are never done?
Those still remain: but all my fathers died,
And I myself but for few days abide.
4. [ANEURIN. ENGLYNION Y MISOEDD, III. 1-4.]
In March birds couple, a new birth
Of herbs and flow'rs breaks through the earth;
But in the grave none stirs his head,
Long is the impris'ment of the dead.