The pleasaunt yeares, that seemes so sweetly runne, The merrie dayes to ende, so fast that fleete: (15) The ioyfull wights, of which dayes drawes so soone, The happie howres, which moe do misse then meete: Doe all consume, as snow against the Sunne, And death makes ende of all that life begunne.
Since death shall dure, till all the world be waste, (20) what meaneth man, to dread Death then so sore? As man might make, that life should alway laste, without regarde, the Lord hath led before. The daunce of Death, which all must runne on row, The howre wherein, onely himselfe doth know.
(25) If man would minde, what burdens life doth bring. what grieuous crimes, to God he doth commit: what plagues, what perill thereby spring, with no sure howre, in all his daie to sit. He would sure thinke, as with great cause I doe, (30) The day of death, is happier of the two.
Death is the doore, whereby we draw to ioye, Life is the lacke, that drowneth all in paine: Death is so dole, it seaseth all awaie, +Life is so leud, that all it yeeldes is vaine. (35) And as by life in bondage man is brought, Euen so by Death, is freedome likewise wrought. +
wherefore with Paule, + let all men wishe and praie, To be dissolued, of this foule fleshly masse: +Or at the least, be arm’d against the daie, (40) That they be found, good souldiours prest to passe. From life to death, from death to life againe, And such a life, as euer shall remaine.
FINIS. D. S.