I.

It was the time when rest, soft sliding downe From heavens hight into mens heavy eyes, In the forgetfulnes of sleepe doth drowne The carefull thoughts of mortall miseries. Then did a ghost before mine eyes appeare, On that great rivers banck that runnes by Rome; Which, calling me by name, bad me to reare My lookes to heaven whence all good gifts do come, And crying lowd, “Loe! now beholde,” quoth hee, “What under this great temple placed is: Lo, all is nought but flying vanitee!” So I, that know this worlds inconstancies, Sith onely God surmounts all times decay, In God alone my confidence do stay.