Sions Elegies: Threnodia IIII, Eleg. 4

DEath thou pursuest, if from death thou flee,
Or if thou turnst thy flight, Death followes thee:
Thy staffe of life is broke; for want of bread,
Thy City pines, and halfe thy Land is dead;
The son t' his father weepes, makes fruitlesse moane
The father weepes upon his weeping sonne:
The brother cals upon his pined brother,
And both come crying to their hungry mother:
The empty Babe, in stead of milke, drawes downe
His Nurses teares, well mingled with his owne;
Nor chāge of place, nor time with help supplys thee
Abroad the Sword, famine at home destroyes thee.