I wail in woe

1. I wail in woe; I plunge in pain.
With sorr’wing sobs I do complain.
With wall’wing waves I wish to die.
I languish sore whereas I lie.
In fe᷍ar* I faint; in hope I hold.
With ruth I run – I was too bold,
As luckless lot assignèd me
In dangerous dale of destinȳ.
Hope bids me smile; fe᷍ar bids me weep –
My sillȳ soul thus care doth keep.

2. Yea, too, too late I do repent
The youthful ye᷍ars that I have spent;
The retchless race of careless kind,
Which hath bewitched my woeful mind.
Such is the chance; such is the state
Of those that trust too much to fate.
No bragging boast of gentle blo͝od,
What so he be, can do thee good;
No wit, no strength nor beautȳ’s hue,
No friendlȳ suit can death esche͞w.

3. The dismal day hath had his will,
And justice seeks my life to spill.
Revengement craves by rig’rous law,
Whereof I little stood in awe;
The doleful dọom to end my life,
Bedecked with care and wȯrldlȳ strife.
The frowning judge hath given his dọom:
O gentle death! thou art welcọme.
The loss of life I do not fe᷍ar;
Then welcome death, the end of care.

4. O pris’ners poor in dungeon deep,
Which pass the night in slumb’ring sleep,
Well may you rue your youthful race,
And now lament your cursed case.
Content yourselves with your estate;
Impute no shame to fickle fate.
With wrong attempts increase no wealth;
Regard the state of prosp’rous health,
And think on me when I am dead –
Whom such delights have lewdlȳ led.

5. My friends and parents, where’er you be,
Full little do you think on me.
My mother mild, and dame so de᷍ar –
Thy loving child is fettered hêre.
Would God I had – I wish too late –
Been bred and born of meaner state,
Or else, would God my reckless e᷍ar
Had been obedient for to he᷍ar
Your sage advice and counsel true,
But in the Lord, parents, adie᷍u.

6. You valiant hearts of youthful train,
Which heard my heavȳ heart complain,
A good example take by me,
Who ran the race, where’er you be.
Trust not too much to bilbo blade,
Nor yet to fortune’s fickle trade;
Hoist not your sails no more in wīnd,
Lest that some rock you chance to find,
Or else be driven to Libya land,
Where the barque may sink in sand.

7. You students all that present be
To view my fatal destinȳ,
Would God I could requite your pain,
Wherein you labour, although in vain.
If mighty God would think it good
To spare my life and vital blo͝od,
For this your proffered courtesȳ,
I would remain most steadfastlȳ
Your sėrvant true in deed and wȯrd,
But welcome death, as please the Lord.

8. Yea, welcome death, the end of woe,
And farewell life, my fatal foe.
Yea, welcome death, the end of strife;
Adie᷍u the care of mortal life.
For though this life doth fleet away,
In heaven I hope to live for aye –
A place of joy and pėrfect rest,
Which Christ hath purchased for the best.
Till that we meet in heav’n most high’st:
Adie᷍u, farewell, in Jesu Christ.