William Drummond of Hawthornden
From Flowers of Sion
Sonnet XXV
More
oft than once death whispered in my ear,
Grave
what thou hears in diamond and gold:
I
am that monarch whom all monarchs fear,
Who
hath in dust their far-stretched pride uprolled;
All,
all is mine beneath moon's silver sphere,
And
nought, save virtue, can my power withhold:
This,
not believed, experience true thee told,
By
danger late when I to thee came near.
As
bugbear then my visage I did show,
That
of my horrors thou right use mightst make,
And
a more sacred path of living take:
Now
still walk armèd for my ruthless blow,
Trust flattering life no more, redeem
time past,
And live each day as if it were thy last.