The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations/A Dialogue-Antheme
¶ A Dialogue-Antheme.
Christian.Death.
Chr.Alas, poore Death, where is thy glorie?
Where is thy famous force, thy ancient sting?
Where is thy famous force, thy ancient sting?
Dea.Alas poore mortall, void of storie,
Go spell and reade how I have kill'd thy King.
Go spell and reade how I have kill'd thy King.
Chr.Poore death! and who was hurt thereby?
Thy curse being laid on him, makes thee accurst.
Thy curse being laid on him, makes thee accurst.
Dea.Let losers talk: yet thou shalt die;
These arms shall crush thee. Chr. Spare not, do thy worst.
I shall be one day better then before:
Thou so much worse, that thou shalt be no more.
These arms shall crush thee. Chr. Spare not, do thy worst.
I shall be one day better then before:
Thou so much worse, that thou shalt be no more.