George Herbert



Chr.  ALAS, poor Death !  where is thy glory ?
Where is thy famous force, thy ancient sting ?
Dea.   Alas, poor mortal, void of story !
Go spell and read how I have killed thy King.
Chr.  Poor Death ! and who was hurt thereby ?
Thy curse being laid on Him makes thee accurst.
Dea.   Let losers talk, yet thou shalt die ;
These arms shall crush thee.
Chr.                                                Spare not, do thy worst.
I shall be one day better than before ;
Thou so much worse, that thou shalt be no more.

Herbert, George. The Works of George Herbert in Prose and Verse.
New York: John Wurtele Lovell, 1881. 271.

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