1 66 Anne Bradjireefs Works.
Thefe are no old-wives tales, but this is truth,
We old men love to tell what's done in youth.
But I return from whence I ftept awry,
My memor}' is bad/" my brain is dry:
Mine Almond tree, grey hairs, doe flourifh now.
And back once ftraight, apace begins to bow:
My grinders now are few, my light doth fail,
My skin is wrinkled, and my cheeks are pale,
No more rejoyce at mulicks plealing noife.
But waking glad to hear the cocks flirill voice: "
I cannot fcent favours of pleafant meat,
Nor fapors find in what I drink or eat:
My arms and hands once rtrong have loll their might
I cannot labour, much lefs can I fight."
My comely legs as nimble as the Roe ^ [58]
Now ftiff" and numb, can hardly creep or goe,
My heart fometimes as fierce as Lion bold,
Now trembling is, all^ fearful lad and cold;
My golden Bowl and filver Cord eVe long '
Shall both be broke, by racking death lb ftrong:
Then Ihall I go whence I fliall come no more,
Sons, Nephews, leave my farewel ^ to deplore.
In pleafures and in labours I have found
That Earth can give no confolation found ;
"' lliort.
" But do awake, at the cocks clanging vovce.
" nor I cannot tight. / trembling, and.
- I Chron. xii. 8: Cant. ii. 9 and 17.
1 death for.
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