A LAMENTATION OF QUEEN ELIZABETH by THOMAS MORE

O Ye that put your trust and confidence
In worldly joy and frail prosperity,
That so live here as ye should never hence,
Remember death and look here upon me.
Ensample I think there may no better be.
Your self wot well that in this realm was I
Your queen but late, and lo now here I lie.
Was I not born of old worthy lineage?
Was not my mother queen, my father king?
Was I not a king's fere in marriage?
Had I not plenty of every pleasant thing?
Merciful God, this is a strange reckoning:
Riches, honour, wealth and ancestry
Hath me forsaken, and lo now here I lie.
If worship have kept me, I had not gone.
If wit might have me saved, I needed not fear.
If money might have holp, I lacked none.
But O good God what vaileth all this gear?
When death is come, thy mighty messenger,
Obey we must, there is no remedy;
Me hath he summoned, and lo now here I lie.
Yet was I late promised otherwise,
This year to live in wealth and delice.
Lo whereto cometh thy blandishing promise,
O false astrology and divinatrice,
Of God's secrets making thy self so wise?
How true is for this year thy prophecy!
The year yet lasteth, and lo now here I lie.
O brittle wealth, aye full of bitterness,
Thy single pleasure doubled is with pain.
Account my sorrow first and my distress,
In sundry wise, and reckon there again
The joy that I have had, and I dare sayn,
For all my honour, endured yet have I
More woe than wealth, and lo now here I lie.
Where are our castles now, where are our towers?
Goodly Richmond, soon art thou gone from me;
At Westminster that costly work of yours,
Mine own dear lord, now shall I never see.
Almighty God vouchsafe to grant that ye
For you and your children well may edify.
My palace builded is, and lo now here I lie.

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