“Death be not proud, though some have
called thee”
DEATH be not proud, though some have
called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not
so,
For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost
overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou
kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy
pictures bee,
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Much pleasure, then from thee, much
more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe
goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings,
and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and
sicknesse dwell,
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And poppie, or charmes can make us
sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell’st
thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake
eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou
shalt die.
in honour of the pioneer, MR JIMMY WANDERI. REST IN PEACE, SIRE.