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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419122" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Of Death</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Death, as a king rampant and stout<br>The world he dare engage;<br>He conquers all, yea, and doth rout<br>The great, strong, wise, and sage.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No king so great, nor prince so strong,<br>But death can make to yield,<br>Yea, bind and lay them all along,<br>And make them quit the field.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where are the victors of the world,<br>With all their men of might?<br>Those that together kingdoms hurl'd,<br>By death are put to flight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How feeble is the strongest hand,<br>When death begins to gripe!<br>The giant now leaves off to stand,<br>Much less withstand and fight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The man that hath a lion's face<br>Must here give place and bend,<br>Yea, though his bones were bars of brass,<br>'Tis vain here to contend.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Submit he must to feeble ones,<br>To worms who will enclose<br>His skin and flesh, sinews and bones,<br>And will thereof dispose</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Among themselves, as merchants do<br>The prizes they have got;<br>Or as the soldiers give unto<br>Each man the share and lot,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Which they by dint of sword have won,<br>From their most daring foe;<br>While he lies by as still as stone,<br>Not knowing what they do.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beauty death turns to rottenness,<br>And youth to wrinkled face;<br>The witty he brings to distress,<br>And wantons to disgrace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wild he tames, and spoils the mirth<br>Of all that wanton are,<br>He takes the worldling from his worth,<br>And poor man from his care.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Death favours none, he lays at all,<br>Of all sorts and degree;<br>Both old and young, both great and small,<br>Rich, poor, and bound, and free.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No fawning words will flatter him,<br>Nor threat'nings make him start;<br>He favours none for worth or kin,<br>All must taste of his dart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What shall I say? the graves declare<br>That death shall conquer all;<br>There lie the skulls, dust, bones, and there<br>The mighty daily fall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The very looks of death are grim <br>And ghastly to behold;<br>Yea, though but in a dead man's skin,<br>When he is gone and cold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How 'fraid are some of dead men's beds,<br>And others of their bones;<br>They neither care to see their heads,<br>Nor yet to hear their groans.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now all these things are but the shade<br>And badges of his coat;[3]<br>The glass that runs, the scythe and spade,<br>Though weapons more remote:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet such as make poor mortals shrink<br>And fear, when they are told,<br>These things are signs that they must drink<br>With death; O then how cold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It strikes them to the heart! how do<br>They study it to shun!<br>Indeed who can bear up, and who<br>Can from these shakings run?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But how much more then when he comes<br>To grapple with thy heart;<br>To bind with thread thy toes and thumbs,[4]<br>And fetch thee in his cart?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then will he cut thy silver cord,<br>And break thy golden bowl;<br>Yea, break that pitcher which the Lord<br>Made cabin for thy soul.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thine eyes, that now are quick of sight,<br>Shall then no way espy<br>How to escape this doleful plight,<br>For death will make thee die.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Those legs that now can nimbly run,<br>Shall then with faintness fail<br>To take one step, death's dart to shun,<br>When he doth thee assail.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That tongue that now can boast and brag<br>Shall then by death be tied<br>So fast, as not to speak or wag,<br>Though death lies by thy side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou that didst once incline thine ear<br>Unto the song and tale,<br>Shall only now death's message hear,<br>While he, with face most pale,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Doth reason with thee how thy days<br>Hath hitherto been spent;<br>And what have been thy deeds and ways,<br>Since God thee time hath lent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then will he so begin to tear<br>Thy body from thy soul,<br>And both from life, if now thy care<br>Be not on grace to roll.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Death puts on things another face<br>Than we in health do see:<br>Sin, Satan, hell, death, life and grace<br>Now great and weighty be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea, now the sick man's eye is set<br>Upon a world to come:<br>He also knows too without let[5]<br>That there must be his home.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Either in joy, in bliss and light,<br>Or sorrow, woe, and grief;<br>Either with Christ and saints in white,<br>Or fiends, without relief.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, O! the sad estate that then<br>They will be in that die<br>Both void of grace and life! poor men!<br>How will they fear and cry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ha! live I may not, though I would<br>For life give more than all;<br>And die I dare not, though I should<br>The world gain by my fall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No, here he must no longer stay,<br>He feels his life run out,<br>His night is come, also the day<br>That makes him fear and doubt.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He feels his very vitals die,<br>All waxeth pale and wan;<br>Nay, worse, he fears to misery<br>He shortly must be gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Death doth already strike his heart<br>With his most fearful sting<br>Of guilt, which makes his conscience start,<br>And quake at every thing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea, as his body doth decay<br>By a contagious grief,<br>So his poor soul doth faint away<br>Without hope or relief.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus while the man is in this scare,<br>Death doth still at him lay;<br>Live, die, sink, swim, fall foul or fair,[6]<br>Death still holds on his way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still pulling of him from his place,<br>Full sore against his mind;<br>Death like a sprite stares in his face,<br>And doth with links him bind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And carries him into his den,<br>In darkness there to lie,<br>Among the swarms of wicked men<br>In grief eternally.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For only he that God doth fear<br>Will now be counted wise:<br>Yea, he that feareth him while here,<br>He only wins the prize.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis he that shall by angels be <br>Attended to that bliss<br>That angels have; for he, O he,<br>Of glory shall not miss.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Those weapons and those instruments<br>Of death, that others fright:<br>Those dreadful fears and discontents<br>That brings on some that night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That never more shall have a day,<br>Brings this man to that rest<br>Which none can win but only they<br>Whom God hath called and blest</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With the first fruits of saving grace,<br>With faith, hope, love, and fear<br>Him to offend; this man his face<br>In visions high and clear,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shall in that light which no eye can<br>Approach unto, behold<br>The rays and beams of glory, and<br>Find there his name enroll'd,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Among those glittering starts of light<br>That Christ still holdeth fast<br>In his right hand with all his might,<br>Until that danger's past,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That shakes the world, and most hath dropt<br>Into grief and distress,<br>O blessed then is he that's wrapt<br>In Christ his righteousness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This is the man death cannot kill,<br>For he hath put on arms;<br>Him sin nor Satan hath not skill<br>To hurt with all their charms.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A helmet on his head doth stand,<br>A breastplate on his heart:<br>A shield also is in his hand,<br>That blunteth every dart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Truth girds him round the reins, also<br>His sword is on his thigh;<br>His feet in shoes of peace do go<br>The ways of purity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His heart it groaneth to the Lord,<br>Who hears him at his call,<br>And doth him help and strength afford,<br>Wherewith he conquers all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus fortified, he keeps the field<br>While death is gone and fled; <br>And then lies down upon his shield<br>Till Christ doth raise the dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Bunyan">John Bunyan</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419122" data-title="Of Death de John Bunyan" data-description="Death, as a king rampant and stout
The world he dare engage;
He conquers all, yea, and doth rout
The great, strong, wise, and sage.

No king so great, nor prince so strong,
But death can make to yield,
Yea, bind and lay them all along,
And make th..."></div>
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