“
Mie love ys dedde,Thos the damselle spake, and dyed.
— Thomas Chatterton
Mie love ys dedde,Thos the damselle spake, and dyed.
Almighty Framer of the Skies!Till thy Command gave Light.
How shall we celebrate the day,And hail'd Salvation's Morn!
Happy (if mortals can be) is the man,Reason, a thorn in Revelation’s side.
Haste to thie kiste, thie onlie dortoure bedde. Knightis and Barons live for pleasure and themselves.
The gatherd storme is rype; the bigge drops falle; And the hot fierie smothe in the wide lowings dies.
Liste! now the thunder's rattling clymmynge soundAnd the full cloudes are braste attenes in stonen showers.
Here take this silver, it maie eathe thie care; We are Goddes stewards all, nete of oure owne we bare.
