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.