'We all must die,' said brave Sir Charles;
'What boots it how or when?
Death is the sure, the certain fate,
Of all we mortal men.
'Say why, my friend, thy honest soul
Runs over at thine eye;
Is it for my most welcome doom
That thou dost child-like cry?'
Saith godly Canynge: 'I do weep,
That thou so soon must die,
And leave thy sons and helpless wife;
'Tis this that wets mine eye.'
'Then dry the tears that out thine eye
From godly fountains spring;
Death I despise, and all the power
Of Edward, traitor-king.
'When through the tyrant's welcome means
I shall resign my life,
The God I serve will soon provide
For both my sons and wife.
'Before I saw the lightsome sun,
This was appointed me;
Shall mortal man repine or grudge
What God ordains to be?
'How oft in battle have I stood,
When thousands died around;
When smoking streams of crimson blood
Imbrued the fattened ground?
'How did I know that every dart
That cut the airy way,
Might not find passage to my heart,
And close mine eyes for aye?
'And shall I now, for fear of death,
Look wan and be dismayed?
No! from my heart fly childish fear;
Be all the man displayed.
'Ah, godlike Henry, God forefend,
And guard thee and thy son,
If 'tis his will; but if 'tis not,
Why, then his will be done.