Recogitabo tibi omnes annos meos. ISAY.

TIme! where didst thou those yeares inter
VVhich I have seene decease?
My soules at war and truth bids her▪
Finde out their hidden Sepulcher,
To give her troubles peace.

Pregnant with flowers doth not the Spring
Like a late bride appeare?
VVhose fether'd Musicke onely bring
Caresses, and no Requiem sing
On the departed yeare?

The Earth, like some rich wanton heire,
VVhose Parents coffin'd lye,
Forgets it once lookt pale and bare
And doth for vanities prepare,
As the Spring nere should dye.

The present houre, flattered by all
Reflects not on the last;
But I, like a sad factor shall
T' account my life each moment call,
And onely weepe the past.

My mem'ry trackes each severall way
Since Reason did begin
Over my actions her first sway:
And teacheth me that each new day
Did onely vary sin.

Poore banckrout Conscience! where are those
Rich houres but farm'd to thee?
How careless…ly I some did lose,
And other to my lust dispose
As no rent day should be?

I have infected with impure
Disorders my past yeares.
But Ile to penitence inure
Those that succeed. There is no cure
Nor Antidote but teares.