Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
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Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
 
VII. The Tyrant
Life and Death, 1460?
Anonymous
 
WHEN Death driveth at the door · with his darts keen,
Then no truce can be taken · no treasure on earth;
But all lordships be lost · and the life both.
If thou have pleased the Prince · that Paradise wieldeth,
There is no berne born · that may thy bliss reckon!        5
But if thou have wrongfully wrought · and wilt not amend,
Thou shalt bitterly bie · or else the Book faileth!
*        *        *        *        *
Why kill’st thou the body · that never care wrought?
The grass, nor the green trees · grievèd thee never!
But come forth, in their kinds · Christians to help,        10
With all beauty and bliss · that berne might devise.
But of my meiny thou marreth · marvelled I have,
How thou dar’st do them to death · each day so many!
And the handiwork of Him · that Heaven wieldeth!
How keepest thou his commandments · thou caitiff wretch!        15
 
 
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