William Drummond of Hawthornden
From Flowers of Sion
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.