1Why doth pale
Phoebe thus her beauty shroud?
2Why is her face enveloped in a cloud?
3Is’t ’cause her borrowed luster’s in the wane?
Aurora’s purple curtain's drawn?
look how she blushing doth arise,
6Chasing sad darkness with her
7And being attended with the
8She shakes her dewy curls upon these flowers,
9Filling with honeydew each gold enameled cup,
10Whence bees their nectar and
11Thus, do these virgins spend the toilsome day,
12And as I
sting my delay.
13Thus (O my god) each small despised insect,
14Buzz in my ears, that I thy laws neglect.
15In doing what they’re made for, every fly
16Fulfills thy will. Woe’s me: so do not I.
17I was created to set forth thy praise;
18Yet like a wretch I fool away my days
19In fruitless grief, or
moiling in the earth,
20Forgetting my poor soul’s celestial birth.
21I know I have a spark of heavenly fire
22Within my breast—else what moves
23But O! My soul’s so clogged with flesh and bones,
24I heaven can reach with naught but sighs and groans.
25My slavish soul, shake off this dirt and dust,
26Put off thy folly and—worse than folly—
27And through all the clouds and sky make way.
There, there, is light outshines
29Nay, that invisible and glorious
30Outshines the sun, more than the sun doth night.
Ay me! O whither, whither dost thou fly?
32Before thou canst enjoy
this, thou must die.
Repentant tears and dust must clear thy sight
34Ere thou canst look on that
35To sleep in grave, contented thou must be;
must sleep with thee.
37Yet though my body into dust doth turn,
38An honest grave will be thy faithful urn.
enfranchised soul to heaven shall go;
40My dust the
while shall sweetly sleep below.
41Free shall I be from dreams, and horrid frights.
42O welcome, O thrice welcome,
such a night.
43But at that grand and
The trump shall sound, and then the dead shall rise.
45Then shall I be united with my spirit,
47Then who dares ask, whenas I shine in glory,
48How I have spent my frail and mortal
49When we have drunk not
Lethe but Christ’s pure blood,
50All shall forgotten be but what is good.
51All shall be known that will increase our joy;
Nothing remembered that will cause annoy.