Lechery

The vyle carkes set upon a fyre Doth often haunte the syne of lechery, Fulfyllyng the foule carnall desyre: Thus erth with erth is corrupt mervaylously, And erth on erth wyll nothing purify, Till erth to erth be nere subverted, For erth with erth is so perverted.

O mortall folke! you may beholde and se Howe I lye here, sometime a myghty knyght; The end of joye and all prosperite Is deth at last, through his course and myght; After the day there cometh the derke night; For though the day be never so longe, At last the belles ringeth to evensonge.

And my selfe called La Graunde Amoure, Seking adventure in the worldly glory, For to attayne the riches and honour, Did thinke full lytle that I should here lye, Tyll deth dyde marke me full ryght pryvely. Lo what I am! and wherto you must! Lyke as I am so shall you be all dust.

Than in your mynde inwardly despyse The bryttle worlde, so full of doublenes, With the vyle flesshe, and ryght sone aryse Out of your slepe of mortall hevynes; Subdue the devill with grace and mekenes, That after your lyfe frayle and transitory, You may than live in joye perdurably.