« PreviousContinue »
Soon as the evening shades prevail,
Forever singing, as they shine,
DIRGE FROM CYMBELINE.
Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the ow o' the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe, and eat;
To thee, the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor the all-dreaded tliunder-stone; Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan: All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee, and come to dust.