John Byrom

A sword laid by,
Which eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously.

A sword laid by,
Which eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously.

I tell the tale as it was told to me.

I tell the tale as it was told to me.

Dreading that climax of all earthly ills,
The inflammation of his weekly bills.

Dreading that climax of all earthly ills,
The inflammation of his weekly bills.

Despair of all recovery spoils longevity,
And makes men's miseries of alarming brevity.

Despair of all recovery spoils longevity,
And makes men's miseries of alarming brevity.

My days of love are over: me no more
The charms of maid, wife, and still less of widow,
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My days of love are over: me no more
The charms of maid, wife, and still less of widow,
Can make the fool of; that they made before:
In fact I must not lead the life I did do.