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To Everlasting Oblivion
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L'âme Immortelle
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1
Thou mighty gulf, insatiate cormorant
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Deride me not, thought I seem petulant
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To fall into thy chops. Let others pray
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For ever their fair poems flourish may.
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Far worthier lines in silence of thy state
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Do sleep securely free from love or hate,
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From which this living never can be exempt
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But whilst it breathes
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will hate and fury tempt
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But as for me, hungry oblivion
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Devour me quick, accept my orison
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My earnest prayers
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Which do importune thee,
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With gloomy shade of thy still empery,
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To vail both me and my poesy
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Then close his eyes
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with thy all-dimming hand,
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Which not right glorious
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actions can withstand
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Peace, hateful tongues
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I now in silence pace
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Unless some hound
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do wake me from my place
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I with this sharp, yet well meant poesy
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Will sleep secure, right free from injury
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Of cankered hate, or rankest villainy
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