I that in health was and gladness
Am troubled now with great sickness
And feebled with infirmity:--
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
Our pleasance here is all vain glory,
This false world is but transitory,
The flesh is fragile, the Fiend is sly:--
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
The state of man does change and vary,
Now sound, now sick, now blithe, now sorry,
Now dancing merry, now like to die:--
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
No state in earth here stands secure;
As with the wind waves the wicker
So wanes this world's vanity:--
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
Unto the dead go all estates,
Princes, prelates, potentates,
Both rich and poor of all degree:--
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
He takes the knights in the field
Unarmed under helm and shield;
Victor he is in all melee:--
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
This strong tyrant, merciless,
Takes the babe from mother's breast,
Harmless though the child may be;--
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
He spares no lord for his puissance,
No clerk for his intelligence;
His awful stroke may no man flee;--
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
Artful magicians and astrologists,
Rhetoricians, logicians, and theologists,
Aren't helped by their conclusions sly;--
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
In medicine the most practitioned,
Leeches, surgeons, and physicians,
Themselves from death may not supply;--
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
(Slightly adapted and translated. Latin Timor Mortis conturbat me: "The Fear of Death troubles me.")
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