But now, when he would fain have gone his way into
the town, the people would by no means suffer it and clamoured amain on
all sides, insistent for more; wherefore, lifting his scarred face to the
sunset sky, Duke Jocelyn sang as here followeth:
"When man is born he doth begin
With right good will, to daily sin,
And little careth.
But when his grave he thinketh near,
Then grave he groweth in his fear
And sin forsweareth.
"This life that man doth cherish so,
Is wondrous frail and quick to go,
Nor will it stay.
Yet where's the man that will not give
All that he hath so he might live
Another day.
"Fain would I know the reason why
All men so fearful are to die
And upward go?
Since Death all woes and ills doth end,
Sure Death, methinks, should be a friend,
Not hated foe.
"So when Death come, as come he must,
Grieve not that we this sorry dust
Do leave behind.
For when this fleeting life be run,
By Death we all of us--each one,
True life shall find.
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