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Though Fortune have set thee on high,
'. '. [.From tHe same Collection ]
To die* dame Nature did man frame:
Death is a thing most perfect sure: We ought not Nature's works to blame;
She made no thing still to endure. That law she made when we were born,
That hence we should return again: To render.right we must not scorn:
Death is due debt: it is no pain.
Death hath in all the earth a right.5
His power is great, it stretcheth far: No lord, no prince, can scape his might;
No creature can his duty bar.
The chaste, the meek, the free of heart, Thfi rich, the poor^who can deny ?—
Have yielded all unto, his dart. .
Seeing no man then can Death escape,
We ought not fear his carrion shape;
He only brings ill men to pain. If thou have led thy life aright,
Death is the end of misery: If thou in God hast thy delight,
Thou diest to live eternally.
Each wight, therefore, while he lives here,
Let him think on his dying day:
Let him account he must away.
This thought doth banish pride and sin;
Where he of Death the field shall win.
[Signed T. Marshall, ed. 1577.]
Mans flitting life finds surest stay
Where sacred Virtue beareth sway.
By raging seas is rent in twain;
With little drops of drizzling rain: The ox doth yield unto the yoke; The steel obey'th the hammer-stroke.
The stately stag that seems so stout,
The swiftest bird, that flees about,
The greatest fish in deepest brook
Is soon deceiv'd with subtle hook.
Yea, man himself, unto whose will
For all his wit, and worthy skill,
There is no thing but time doth waste;
The heavens, the earth, consume at last.
But Virtue sits, triumphing still,
Though spiteful Death man's body kill,
By life or death, whatso betides,
The state of Virtue never slides.
Dr. Percy says, this poem is " subscribed M. T. "perhaps invertedly forT. Marshall." Mr. Ritson (Bibl. Poet.) ascribes it " rather to M. Thorn, "whose surname is elsewhere printed at length."
M. he adds, seems to be frequently used for Master.
[From the same Collection.]
Why should I longer long to live
In this disease of fantasy,
Things to my mind most contrary:
A friend I hadj to me most dear,
And, of long time, faithful and just;
There was no one my heart so near,
Whom now of late, without cause why,
Fortune hath made my enemy.
The grass, methinks, should grow in sky;
The stars unto the earth cleave fast; The water-stream should pass awry;
The winds should leave their strength of blast; The sun and moon, by one assent, Should both forsake the firmament;
The fish in air should fly with fin;
The fowls in flood should bring forth fry; All things methinks should first begin
To take their course unnaturally;—