Classic Poem

A Dolorous discourse
I F he who lingers foorth a loathsome lyfe,
In weary wyse exprest with endlesse woe:
To whom care still stands, as a hackeling knife
To teare the heart that is tormented so:
Who neuer felte one howre, nor sparke of ioy,
But deepe lyes drownde in Gulfe of foule annoy

Whom Fortune euer frounde on in his life.
And neuer lent one lucky looke at all:
With whome the Moone and Starres are all at strife
Who all in vaine dooth dayly crie, and call
For comforte some but yet receiueth none,
But to himselfe his greefe must still bemone.

Whose greefe first grew in time of tender yeares,
And yet dooth still continue to this daye:
Who, all berent, dooth chaunge among the Breares.
And still hang fast and cannot get awaye:
Who euery way, which he dooth seeke to goe,
Dooth finde some block that dooth him ouerthrow

Who neuer was is not, nor lookes to bee,
In way of weale, to ridde him of his woe:
Who day by day, by proofe too plaine, dooth see
That Desteny hath sworne it shall be so:
That he must liue with torments so opprest.
And till he die must neuer looke for rest

If such a one may well be thought to be
The onely man that knoweth misery:
I may well say that I (poore man) am hee;
Who dayly so doo pine in penury;
Whose heauy heart is so opprest with greefe
As vntill death dooth looke for no releefe.

To swim and sinke to burne and be a-colde
To hope and feare, to sigh and yet to sing:
And all at once, are louers fyttes of olde,
To many knowen, to some a common thing:
But still to synke, frye, feare, and alway sigh,
Are patterns plaine, that death approcheth nigh

And doost thou then sweete Death, approche so neare?
Welcome, my friend and ease of all my woe:
A friend in deede to me, a friend most deare
To ease my heart that is tormented so:
Happy is he who lightes on such a friend,
To breede his ioyes, and cause his greefes to end.