POOR soul, the centre
of my sinful earth |
|
Foold by these rebel powers that thee
array, |
|
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, |
|
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? |
|
Why so large cost, having so short a lease, |
5 |
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? |
|
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, |
|
Eat up thy charge? Is this thy bodys
end? |
|
Then soul, live thou upon thy servants
loss, |
|
And let that pine to aggravate thy store; |
10 |
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; |
|
Within be fed, without be rich no more: |
|
So shall thou feed on Death,
that feeds on men, |
|
And Death once dead, there s
no more dying then. |
|