(Poem on) Thought of Death by Thomas Flatman

  • When on my sick bed I languish,
  • Full of sorrow, full of anguish,
  •     Fainting, gasping, trembling, crying,
  •     Panting, groaning, speechless, dying,
  • My soul just now about to take her flight
  • Into the regions of eternal night;
  •         Oh tell me you,
  •       That have been long below,
  •         What shall I do!
  • What shall I think, when cruel Death appears,
  •     That may extenuate my fears!
  • Methinks I hear some gentle Spirit say,
  •     Be not fearful, come away!
  • Think with thyself that now thou shalt be free,
  • And find thy long-expected liberty;
  • Better thou mayst, but worse thou canst not be
  • Than in this vale of tears and misery.
  • Like Caesar, with assurance then come on,
  • And unamaz'd attempt the laurel crown,
  • That lies on th'other side Death's Rubicon.

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