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ART AND REVIEW

A Litany In Time Of Plague

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Adieu, farewell, earth’s bliss,

This world uncertain is;

Funds 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 stops unto the grave,

Worms feed on Hector brave,

Swords may not fight with fate.

Earth still holds open her gate;

Come! come! the bells do cry.

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.

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