O earth! of earth why art thou so proud?
Now what thou art call to remembraunce;
Open thine eares unto my song aloude;
Is not thy beaute, strength, and puyssaunce,
Though becladde with cloth of pleasaunce,
Very erth, and also wormes fode,
When erth to erth shall turne to the blode?
Wrath.
And, erth, with erth why art thou so wroth?
Remembre the that it vayleth right nought,