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Elegie on Mistris Boulstred. |
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Death I recant, and say, Unsaid by me |
What ere hath slip'd, that might diminish thee. |
Spiritual treason, atheism 'tis, to say, |
That any can thy Summons disobey. |
Th'earths face is but thy Table; there are set |
Plants, cattel, men, dishes for Death to eat. |
In a rude hunger now he millions draws |
Into his bloody, or plaguy, or sterv'd jaws. |
Now he will seem to spare and doth more waste, |
Eating the best first, well preserv'd to last. |
Now wantonly he spoyls, and eats us not, |
But breaks off friends, and lets us piecemeal rot. |
Nor will this earth serve him; he sinks the Deep |
Where harmless fish Monastique silence keep. |
Who (were Death dead) the Rows of living sand |
Might spung that element, and make it land. |
He rounds the air, and breaks the hymnique notes |
In birds, Heavens choristers, organique throats, |
Which (if they did not dy) might seem to be |
A tenth rank in the heavenly hierarchie. |
O strong and long-liv'd Death, how cam'st thou in? |
And how without Creation didst begin? |
Thou hast, and shalt see dead, before thou dyest, |
All the four Monarchies, and Antichrist. |
How could I think thee nothing, that see now |
In all this All, nothing else is, but thou? |
Our births and lives, vices and vertues, be |
Wasteful consumptions, and degrees of thee. |
For, we to live, our bellows wear, and breath, |
Nor are we mortal, dying, dead, but death.
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[CW: And] |