Thomas Nashe

Here you will find the Poem In Time of Pestilence of poet Thomas Nashe

In Time of Pestilence

ADIEU, farewell earth's bliss! 
This world uncertain is: 
Fond are life's lustful joys, 
Death proves them all but toys. 
None from his darts can fly; 
I am sick, I must die-- 
   Lord, have mercy on us! 

Rich men, trust not in wealth, 
Gold cannot buy you health; 
Physic himself must fade; 
All things to end are made; 
The plague full swift goes by; 
I am sick, I must die-- 
   Lord, have mercy on us! 

Beauty is but a flower 
Which wrinkles will devour; 
Brightness falls from the air; 
Queens have died young and fair; 
Dust hath closed Helen's eye; 
I am sick, I must die-- 
   Lord, have mercy on us! 

Strength stoops unto the grave, 
Worms feed on Hector brave; 
Swords may not fight with fate; 
Earth still holds ope her gate; 
Come, come! the bells do cry; 
I am sick, I must die-- 
   Lord, have mercy on us! 

Wit with his wantonness 
Tasteth death's bitterness; 
Hell's executioner 
Hath no ears for to hear 
What vain art can reply; 
I am sick, I must die-- 
   Lord, have mercy on us! 

Haste therefore each degree 
To welcome destiny; 
Heaven is our heritage, 
Earth but a player's stage. 
Mount we unto the sky; 
I am sick, I must die-- 
   Lord, have mercy on us!