Classic Poem

A SOLEMNE FAREWELL TO THE WORLD

O H forlorne Fancy whereto dost thou liue
To weary out the senses with vnrest?
Hopes are but cares, that but discomforts giue
While only fooles doe clime the phoenix nest:
To heart sicke soules all joyes are but a jest
Thou dost in vain but striue against the streame.
With blinded eyes to see the sunny beame.

Die with desire, abandoned from delight
Thy weary winter lasteth all the yeare:
Say to thy selfe that darknesse is the light,
Wherein doth nothing but thy death appeare;
While wit and sense, in Sorrowes heauy cheare
Findes thee an humour, but vnkindly bredde
Of Hopes illusions in too weake a head.

Fortune affrightes thee with a thousand feares
While Folly feedes thee with abuse of wit:
And while thy force in fainting passion weares,
Patience is ready to increase the fit,
Where agonies in their extreames doe sit:
So that, each way, thy soule is so perplexed
As better die then liue to be so vexed.

Say, Patience somewhat doe asswage thy paine;
Prolonged cures are too vncomfortable;
And where that care doth neuer comfort gaine
The state, alasse must needes be miserable:
Where Sorrowes labours are so lamentable,
That Silence saies, that to the soule complains
Concealed sorrowes are the killing pains.

Then doe not ceasse to sigh and sobbe thy fill
Bleede in the teares of true loue's liuing blood;
Shewe how vnkindnesse seekes the heart to kill
That hides a buzzard in a falcons hoode:
Feede not thy self with misconceipted good;
Better to starue, then in a sugred pill
To taste the poison of the Spirits ill.

But if thou canst content thee with thy life,
And wilt endure a double death to liue;
If thou canst beare that bitter kinde of strife,
Where crosse conceipts but discontents do giue:
If to this ende thou canst thine humour driue,
And cares true patience can command thee so:
Give me then leave to tell thee what I knowe.

I knowe too well, that all too long haue tryed,
That earth containeth not that may content thee;
Sorrowe will so beset thee on each side,
That Wit nor Reason can the thought inuent thee
But that will some way scrue for to torment thee:
Hope wil deceiue thee Happinesse goe by thee,
Fortune will faile thee, and the World defie thee.

Beauty will blinde thine eyes, bewitch thine heart
Confound thy senses, and commaund thy will
Scorne thy desire, not looke on thy desart,
Disdaine thy seruice, quite thy good with ill
And make no care thy very soule to kill.
Time will outgoe thee, Sorrowe overtake thee,
And Death a shadow of a substance make thee.

I know this world will neuer be for thee;
Conscience must carry thee another way:
Another world must be for thee and mee
Where happie thoughts must make their holiday
While heauenly comforts neuer will decay
We must not thinke in this ill age to thriue,
Where Faith and Loue are scarcely found aliue.

Wee must not build our houses on the sands,
Where euery flood will wash them quite away;
Nor set our seales vnto those wicked bands,
Where damned soules their debts in hel must pay:
Our states must stand vpon a better stay;
Vpon the rock we must our houses builde,
That wil our frames from winde and water shield.

Goe bid the world, with all his trash, farewell
And tell the earth it shall be all but dust:
These wicked wares, that worldlings buy and sell
The moath will eat, or else the canker rust:
All flesh is grasse, and to the graue it must
This sinke of sin is but the way to hell:
Leaue it, I say, and bid the world farewell.

Account of pompe but as a shadowed power,
And thinke of friends but as the sommer flies;
Esteeme of beauty as a fading flower,
And louers fancies but as fabled lies:
Knowe that on earth there is no Paradise.
Who sees not heauen is surely spirit-blinde.
And like a body that doth lacke a minde.

Then let vs lie as dead, till there wee liue
Where only loue doth liue for euer blest;
And only loue the onely life doth giue,
That bringes the soule vnto eternall rest:
Let vs this wicked, wretched world detest,
Where gracelesse hearts in hellish sins persever.
And fly to heaven to liue in grace for euer.