Flowers From Sion: Sonnet 25 - More oft than once death whispered

More oft than once death whispered in mine ear:
Grave what thou hears in diamond and gold -
I am that monarch whom all monarchs fear,
Who hath in dust their far-stretched pride uprolled.
All, all is mine beneath moon's silver sphere,
And nought save virtue can my power withhold.
This, not believed, experience true thee told
By danger late when I to thee came near.
As bugbear then my visage I did show,
That of my horrors thou right use might'st make,
And a more sacred path of living take.
Now still walk armed for my ruthless blow;
Trust flattering life no more, redeem time past,
And live each day as if it were the last.