Classic Poem

Sith vertuous life death never may deprive,
But liveth (ay) amidde the glorious crew,
Lament not, then: our Cantrell is alive,
In heaven on highe, with chaunged life a new.
Then death no dole, sith life therein remaines,
But glad, hee gone to blisse from worldly paines.

From wreake of woe, from cutt of cares anoye,
From fainting frends, from dole of doubtful dome,
From vaine delights, the counterfet of joy,
From sobbing sighes, whence sorrowes seedes do come,
From dread to die, sith death doth cleare us quit;
Lament not, then, good Henrie Cantrells hit.

The dalying dayes, that here wee lead alonge
An earthlie mould, fills up the sacke with sinnes;
Here mirth with mone is alwayes mixt amonge,
To sowre our sweete here fortune never linnes;
Hence pleasure packes, no joy can here remaine,
No swalowed sweete not purgde with pills of paine.

Then laude the Lord, lament no whit at all,
Though it has pleasd his will and heavenly hest,
From wretched us this happie youth to call,
For (sure I say) his soul him liked best.
Thus best hee calls, and leaves the worst alone;
His mercie such our heaped sinnes to mone.