Draw the barren heifer back: Full betwixt her horns and brows. Chor. 'Tis done. Tir. Pour in blood, and blood-like wine, Feast the ghosts that love the steam: And turn your faces from the sun.~--- Chor. All is done. Song. 1. Hear, ye sullen powers below! You that scum the molten lead! With your sharpened prongs! 2. You that thrust them off the brim! 3. You that plunge them when they swim 1. Till they drown; Till they go On a row Down, down, down, Ten thousand, thousand, thousand fathoms low Chor. Till they drown, &c. 1. Music for a while 2. Shall your cares beguile: Wondering how your pains were eased! 3. Till Alecto free the dead From their eternal bands; Till the snakes drop from her head, 1. Come away, Do not stay, But obey, While we play, For hell's broke up, and ghosts have holiday. Chor. Come away, &c. Tir. I. Laius! 2. Laius! 3. Laius! I. Hear! 2. Hear! 3. Hear! Chor. By the Fates that spun thy thread! Which are three Tir. By the Furies fierce and dread! Tir. By the judges of the dead! Which are three Three times three Tir. By hell's blue flame! By the Stygian lake! And by Demogorgon's name HARVEST HOME. Comus. YOUR hay it is mowed, and your corn is reaped: Your barns will be full, and your hovels heaped: Come, my boys, come; Come, my boys, come; And merrily roar out harvest home! Harvest home; And merrily roar out harvest home! Chor. Come, my boys, come, &c. 1. We ha' cheated the parson, we'll cheat him again, For why should a blockhead ha' one in ten? One in ten, One in ten; For why should a blockhead ha' one in ten, 2. For prating so long like a book-learned sot, Till pudding and dumpling burn to pot, Burn to pot, Burn to pot, Till pudding and dumpling burn to pot? 3. We'll toss off our ale till we cannot stand, Old England; And hoigh for the honour of Old England. Ah, fading joy! how quickly art thou past! Ah, sweet Content! where is thy mild abode? Are they shadows that we see? A rose, as fair as ever saw the North, Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? As I in hoary winter's night stood shivering in the snow, 103 Ask me no more where Jove bestows, - 219 Avenge, O Lord, Thy slaughtered saints, whose bones, 197 A very phoenix in her radiant eyes, Ay me, poor soul, whom bound in sinful chains, Be a merchant, I will freight thee, Beauty clear and fair, Beauty, sweet love, is like the morning dew, Behold, out walking in these valleys, Bid me to live, and I will live, Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Born was I to be old, - 63 - 162 112 - 157 94 - 105 - 209 - 83 - 216 Bright star of beauty, on whose eyelids sit, Brown is my love, but graceful, Buzz! quoth the Blue-fly, By a fountain where I lay, By the moon we sport and play, Page - 97 75 - 123 - 78 - 168 Call for the robin redbreast and the wren, Calm was the day, and through the trembling air, Choose the darkest part o' the grove, Clear Ankor, on whose silver-sanded shore, - 146 18 - 95 - 155 210 - 264 - 98 - 109 Cold winter ice is fled and gone, Come away, come away, death, - 163 85 Come away, come, sweet love! Come, cheerful day, part of my life to me, Cupid and my Campaspe played, Dare you haunt our hallowed green? Dear chorister, who from those shadows sends, Dear, from thine arms then let me fly, Death, be not proud, though some have called thee, Drink to me only with thine eyes, Even such is time, that takes in trust, Fain I would, but oh I dare not, Fair stood the wind for France, - 99 50 - 169 - 139 - 253 - 119 |