_Cadwalline_ then did force king _Penda_ to a foyle. And I _Cadwallader_ at last did presse in place, Then _Lothar_ king of _Kent_ in warre that wretch I slue: And _Ethiwolne_ the king of _Southsaxons_ I spoylde, The other fiue did me inuade with cruel fight, With whom in diuers warres, I diuersly did speed: Somtime _Bellona_ blewe a blessed blaste for me, And changed chaunce somtime did force[1211] my men to flee: While thus I wagde my warres in secrete silent night, The very voyce of God, it thus to me did speake: Thou striu’st agenst the streame, the tide doth beate thee [backe,] Strike thou thy sailes, take ancor hold, els must thou feele a [wracke.] Which saying did indeede amaze me more by muche, Then al the force that man against my wil might bende: For who the wyll of God with weapons may resist? And when as sinne hath solde a countrye to decay, Then prayer must preuayle, for weapons will not helpe: And when the end is come, when all the glasse is runne, Who can resist the force of fate and destinies? Who things forerunne to fal from falling can refraine? It passeth mortall might to bring such thinges about: Let man content himselfe to do what best he may, By trying too to much, no man his God may tempte, But mortall man must thinke that God the best doth knowe, Who can depresse to dust and rayse when best him please: And as I thus amidst my musinges did remayne, I did resigne my crowne, and deemde al honoures vayne: And though it greeude me muche to feele the fall I felte, Yet was I well content, I could not as I would: For which I left my lande, my people, and my place. The _Saxons_ they obtaynde the wage for which they warrde: When I three yeares had raygn’d, without one day of rest, Euen then in mourning robes at _Rome_ I did ariue, And there contemning all the worlde, and worldly thinges, I made my selfe a monke, (ceasse _Memory_ to muse) A monke I made my selfe, thou knowst it passing playne: Amongste the friers there, I led my lyngring life: And tyl my dying day I daily did deuise, How by my meanes it might to all the worlde be knowne, That mortall flesh is frayle, and euery thing must fade: And euen amongst those thinges which nature doth create, Nothing so vile as man amongst the rest is founde, Which made _Heraclitus_ with ceasslesse sighes to wayle, He to hys dying day did nothing els but weepe, Affirming all the worlde vnder the heauen, to be A path of penitence, [a] maze of misery: What is the life of man but care and daily toyle, Bearyng alwayes about a burthen of mishappes? All his delightes repentaunce dayly dothe[1212] pursue: Nothing but death doth bryng hym peace and quiet rest: Yet that which bringes hym blesse, he most of all doth hate, Which made _Democritus_ with myrth to spende his dayes;