Poems and songs by Thomas Flatman.

A Thought of Death.

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 thy self that now thou shalt be free, And find thy long expected liberty, Better thou mayest, but worse thou can'st 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 lyes on t'other side Death's Rubicon.