Classic Poem

Miseremini mei , ye that be my friend─ùs!
This world hath conformed me down─ù to fall.
How may I endure, when that every thing end─ùs?
What cr─ùature is born to be eternall?
Now there is no mor─ù but " Pray for me all!"
Thus say I, Edward, that late was your king,
And twenty two year─ùs ruled this imperiall,
Some unto pleasure, and some to no liking.
Mercy I ask─ù of my misdoing:
What availeth it, friend─ùs, to be my foe,
Sith I cannot resist, nor amend your complaining?
Quia, ecce, nunc in pulvere dormio!

I sleep now in mould, as it is naturall
That earth unto earth hath his reverture.
What ordained God to be terrestriall
Without recourse to the earth of nature?
Who to live ever may himself assure?
What is it to trust on mutability,
Sith that in this world nothing may endure?
For now am I gone, that late was in prosperity:
To presume thereupon it is but a vanity,
Not certain, but as a cherry-fair full of woe:
Reigned not I of late in great felicity?
Et, ecce, nunc in pulvere dormio!

Where was in my life such one as I,
While Lady Fortune with me had continuance?
Granted not she me to have victory,
In England to reign─ù, and to contribute France?
She took me by the hand and led me a dance,
And with her sugred lipp─ùs on me she smiled;
But, what for her dissembled countenance,
I could not beware till I was beguiled:
Now from this world she hath me exiled
When I was lothest hence for to go,
And I am in age but, as who saith, a child,
Et, ecce, nunc in pulvere dormio!

I see well they live that double my year─ùs:
Thus dealed this world with me as it list,
And hath me made, to you that be my peer─ùs,
Example to think on, had I wist.
I stored my coffers and also my chest
With task─ùs taking of the commonalty;
I took their treasure, but of their prayer─ùs missed;
Whom I beseech with pure humility
For to forgive and have on me pity:
I was your king, and kept you from your foe.
I would now amend, but that will not be,
Quia, ecce, nunc in pulvere dormio!

I had enough, I held me not content,
Without remembranc─ù that I should die;
And more ever to increas─ù was mine intent,
I knew not how long─ù I should it occupy.
I made the Tower strong─ù, I wist not why;
I knew not to whom I purchased Tattershall;
I amended Dover on the mountain high,
And London I provoked to fortify the wall;
I made Nottingham a place full royall,
Windsor, Eltham, and many other mo:
Yet, at the last, I went from them all,
Et, ecce, nunc in pulvere dormio!

Where is now my conquest and victory?
Where is my riches and my royal array?
Where be my coursers and my horses high?
Where is my mirth, my solace, and my play?
As vanity, to nought all is withered away.
O Lady Bess, long for me may ye call!
For I am departed till doom─ùs day;
But love ye that Lord that is sovereign of all.
Where be my castles and buildings royall?
But Windsor alone, now I have no mo,
And of Eton the prayers perpetuall,
Et, ecce, nunc in pulvere dormio!

Why should a man be proud or presume high?
Saint Bernard thereof nobly doth treat,
Saith a man is but a sack of stercory,
And shall return unto worm─ùs meat.
Why, what came of Alexander the Great?
Or else of strong─ù Sampson, who can tell?
Were not worm─ùs ordained their flesh to frete?
And of Salomon, that was of wit the well?
Absolon proffered his hair for to sell,
Yet for all his beauty worm─ùs eat him also;
And I but late in honour did excel,
Et, ecce, nunc in pulvere dormio!


I have played my pageant, now am I passed;
Ye wot well all I was of no great eld:
Thus all thing concluded shall be at the last:
When Death approacheth, then lost is the field.
Then sithen this world me no longer upheld,
Nor nought would conserve me here in my place,
In manus tuas, Domine , my spirit up I yield,
Humbly beseeching thee, God, of thy grace!
O ye courteous commons, your heart─ùs unbrace
Benignly now to pray for me also:
For right well you know your king I was,
Et, ecce, nunc in pulvere dormio!