Classic Poem

Alas, my hart will brek in three:
Terribilis mors conturbat me.

Illa iuventus, that is so nise,
Me deduxit into vain devise:
Infirmus sum, I may not rise.
Terribilis mors conturbat me.

Dum iuvenis fui, litill I dred,
Sed semper in sinne I ete my bred,
Iam ductus sum into my bed.
Terribilis mors conturbat me.

Corpus migrat in my soule;
Respicit demon in his rowle—
Desiderat ipse to have his tolle.
Terribilis mors conturbat me.

Christus se ipsum, whan he shuld die,
Patri suo his manhode did crye:
‘Respice me, Pater, that is so hye.’
Terribilis mors conturbat me.

Queso iam the Trinite
Duc me from this vanite
In celum, ther is joy with thee.
Terribilis mors conturbat me.