English Poetry I: From Chaucer to Gray.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 88. In Time of Pestilence |
| | | Thomas Nashe (1567–1601) |
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| ADIEU, farewell earth’s bliss! | |
| This world uncertain is: | |
| Fond are life’s lustful joys, | |
| Death proves them all but toys. | |
| None from his darts can fly; | 5 |
| I am sick, I must die— | |
| Lord, have mercy on us! | |
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| Rich men, trust not in wealth, | |
| Gold cannot buy you health; | |
| Physic himself must fade; | 10 |
| All things to end are made; | |
| The plague full swift goes by; | |
| I am sick, I must die— | |
| Lord, have mercy on us! | |
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| Beauty is but a flower | 15 |
| Which wrinkles will devour; | |
| Brightness falls from the air; | |
| Queens have died young and fair; | |
| Dust hath closed Helen’s eye; | |
| I am sick, I must die— | 20 |
| Lord, have mercy on us! | |
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| Strength stoops unto the grave, | |
| Worms feed on Hector brave; | |
| Swords may not fight with fate; | |
| Earth still holds ope her gate; | 25 |
| Come, come! the bells do cry; | |
| I am sick, I must die— | |
| Lord, have mercy on us! | |
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| Wit with his wantonness | |
| Tasteth death’s bitterness; | 30 |
| Hell’s executioner | |
| Hath no ears for to hear | |
| What vain art can reply: | |
| I am sick, I must die— | |
| Lord, have mercy on us! | 35 |
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| Haste therefore each degree | |
| To welcome destiny; | |
| Heaven is our heritage, | |
| Earth but a player’s stage. | |
| Mount we unto the sky; | 40 |
| I am sick, I must die— | |
| Lord, have mercy on us! | |
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