Social Commentaries
Of woordes spoken by a greate personage.
From Churchyardes Chance (1580)
I Liue that dieth eurie howre, my glasse is nere hande roime,
I fall awaie as doeth a flowre, that withers in the Sonne:
O death dispatche my dolefull daies, defar no tyme here in,
Good Lachis make thou no delaies, my fatal threde to spin.
Thou Clarke I saie, that for thy fee, doeth ryng the carefull knell,
Now let me haue some helpe of thee, to tolle my passyng bell.
If by the waie I maie prouoke, to shorten now my life,
This hande of myne shall strike the stroke, yt sone shall stint my strife:
I muse why God did me create, and breathd life in my breste,
And brought me vp to this estate, that nere enioyed no reste.
Why was I fed with milke so oft, and pampred vp so long,
Why was I rockt and laied so softe, and lullde with many a song:
Why was not I vntymely borne, when Nature had me wrought,
That liueth thus as man forlorne, and still consumes with thought.
The Midwife might haue cas'd all this, if strangled had I bin,
Then had my soule been saffe in blis, that now lyes dround in sin.
But looke what God assignde is doen, what should I reason more,
O Lorde my God what hast thou won, in plagyng me so sore:
What honour canst thou haue by me, what glorie canst thou haue,
What seruice can I doe to thee, that wisheth thus my graue.
And in this plite to dye thou knowest, so farre from quiet frame,
Before I should yeeld vp the ghost, I might blaspheme thy name:
The worlde disdains to see my wealth, the heauens on me froune,
The yearth and aire denies me health, and Fortune keeps me doune.
The daie I driue awaie with care, the might I waile and weepe,
The sighes & sobs that comes vnware, doeth wake me in my slepe:
The foode that should my life sustaine, I finde therein small taste,
My blood dries vp in eurie vaine, loe how I weare and waste.
Thus eurie thing doeth change his kinde, to worke my woe you see,
And nothyng seru's me to my minde, I fall in sutche degree:
Would God my graue, were ready found, my shroudyng shete & al,
And dreadfull Death were surely bounde, to come when I doe call.
Cite this poem
MLA
Churchyard, Thomas. “Of woordes spoken by a greate personage.” Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/churchyard/17/.
Chicago
Churchyard, Thomas. “Of woordes spoken by a greate personage.” Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/churchyard/17/.
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