[T]HE DEAD MANS SONG,
Who[se]dwelling was near Basing-hall in London. To the Tune of, Flying Fam[e.]
|
SOre sick dear friends long time I was
|
and weakly la[i]d in bed,
|
And for five hours in all mens fight,
|
at leng[t]h I lay as dead.
|
The bell rang out, my friends came in,
|
and I key-cold was found,
|
Then was my carkasse brought from bed
|
and laid upon the ground.
|
My loving wife did weep full sore,
|
my children loud did cry,
|
My friends did mourn, yet this they said
|
all flesh is born to die:
|
My winding-sheet prepared was;
|
my grave was also made;
|
And for five hours by just report,
|
in this same case I laid.
|
During which time my soul did see,
|
such strange and fearful sights,
|
That for to hear the same disclosd,
|
would banish all delights:
|
Yet sith the Lord restord my life,
|
which from my bodie fled;
|
I will declare the sight I saw,
|
the time that I was dead.
|
Me thought upon a lovelie green,
|
where pleasant flowers sprang,
|
I took my way whereas I thought,
|
the Muses sweetlie sang:
|
The grass was sweet the trees were fair
|
and lovelie to behold.
|
And full of fruits was everie twig,
|
which shind like glittring gold.
|
My chearful heart desired much,
|
to taste the fruit most fair;
|
But as I reacht a fair young man,
|
to me did make repair:
|
Touch not, said he, its none of thine,
|
but wend and walk with me;
|
And see thou mark each several thing,
|
which I shall show to thee.
|
I wondred greatlie at his words,
|
yet went with him away,
|
Till on a goodlie pleasant bank,
|
with him he bade me stay:
|
With branches then of Lillies white,
|
mine eyes there wiped he,
|
When this was done he bade me look,
|
what I far off could see.
|
I looked up and lo at last,
|
I did a City see,
|
So fair a thing did never man,
|
behold with mortal eye:
|
Of diamonds, peales, and precious stones
|
it seems the walls were made;
|
The houses all with beaten gold,
|
were tild and overlaid.
|
More brighter than the morning Sun,
|
the light thereof did show,
|
And everie Creature in the same,
|
like crowned Kings did go:
|
The fields about the City fair,
|
were all with Roles set;
|
Gillie flowers and Carnations fair,
|
which canker could not fret.
|
And from the fields there did proceed
|
a sweet and pleasant smell,
|
That everie l[i]ving Creature felt,
|
the scent did so [e]xcel:
|
B[e]sides such sweet and pleasant mirth,
|
did from the City sound,
|
That I therewith was ravished,
|
my joy did so abound.
|
With musick, mirth and melodie,
|
Princes did there imbrace,
|
That in my heart I longd to be
|
within that bl[e]ssed place:
|
The more I gazd, the more I might,
|
the sight pleasd me so well:
|
For what I saw in everie thing,
|
my tongue can no way tell.
|
Then of the man I did demand,
|
what place the same might be,
|
Whereas so manie Kings did dwel,
|
in joy and melodie:
|
Quoth he that blessed place is heaven,
|
where yet thou canst not rest;
|
And those that do like Princes walk,
|
are men whom God hath blest.
|
Then did he turn me round about,
|
and on the other side,
|
He bade me view and mark as much,
|
what things were to be spyd:
|
With that I saw a Coal-black Den,
|
all tand with soot and smook,
|
Where stinking brimstone burning was,
|
which made me like to choak.
|
An uglie creature there I saw,
|
whose face with knives were slasht,
|
And in a cauldron of poyson[]d filth,
|
his uglie corps was washt:
|
About his neck were sundrie ruffs,
|
that flamd on everie side;
|
I askt, and lo the young man said,
|
that he was damnd for pride.
|
Another sort there did I see,
|
whose bowels Vipers tore,
|
And grievously with gaping mouth,
|
they did both yell and roar:
|
A spoted person by each one,
|
stood gnawing on their hearts;
|
And this was conscience I was told,
|
that plagud the inward parts.
|
They were no sooner out of sight,
|
but straight came in their place,
|
A sort still throwing burning fire,
|
which fell against their face:
|
And Ladies full of melted Gold
|
were poured down their throats.
|
And these were set it seemd to me,
|
in midst of burning boats.
|
The formost of the companie
|
was Judas I was told,
|
Who had for fi[l]thie Lucres sake,
|
his Lord and Master sold:
|
For covetousnesse they were condemnd
|
so it was told to me.
|
And there me thought another rout
|
of hell hounds I did see.
|
Their faces they seemd fat in sight,
|
yet all their bones were bare;
|
And dishes full of crawling Toads,
|
were made their finest fare:
|
From arms, from hands, from thighs and feet[,]
|
with red hot pincers then,
|
The flesh was pluckt even from the bone
|
of those vile glutonous men.
|
On Coal-black beds another sort,
|
in grievous sort did ly;
|
And underneath them burning brands,
|
their flesh did burn and fry:
|
With brimstone fierce their pillows eke
|
whereon their heads were laid,
|
And fiends with glowing whips of fire,
|
their treacherous flesh off flaid.
|
Then did I see another come,
|
stabd in with dagers thick,
|
And filthy fiends with fiery darts,
|
their hearts did wound and prick:
|
And mighty bowls of corrupt blood,
|
was brought for them to drink:
|
And these men were for murder plagud
|
from whence they could not shrink.
|
I saw when they were gone away,
|
the swearer and the lyar,
|
And they were hung up by the tongues
|
over a flame of fire:
|
From eyes, from ears, from navel & nose
|
and from their lower parts,
|
The blood me thought did rushing run,
|
and clogged like mens hearts.
|
I asked why that punishment,
|
was now on swearers laid,
|
Because quoth he, wounds heart and blood
|
were still the oath they made:
|
And there withal from ugly hell,
|
such grievous cries I heard,
|
As though some greater grief and care,
|
had vext them afterward.
|
So that my soul was sore afraid,
|
such terrour on me felt,
|
Away then went the young man quite,
|
and bade me not farewel:
|
Wherefore unto my body straight,
|
my spirit returnd again:
|
And lively blood did afterwards
|
stretch forth in every vein.
|
My closed eyes I opened,
|
and raisd up from my swoend,
|
I wondred much to see my self,
|
laid so upon the ground:
|
Which when my neighbours did behold,
|
great fear upon them fell,
|
To whom soon after I did tell,
|
the news from heaven and hell.
|
|
|
|
|
|