Domenico Fetti. Melancholy, c1620.
from Dryden's THE INDIAN EMPEROR, 1667.
Ah fading joy! how quickly art thou past!|
Yet we thy ruin haste.
As if the cares of human life were few,
We seek out new:
And follow fate, which would too fast pursue.
See, how on every bough the birds express,
In their sweet notes, their happiness.
They all enjoy, and nothing spare;
But on their mother nature lay their care:
Why then should man, the lord of all below,
Such troubles chuse to know,
As none of all his subjects undergo?
Hark, hark, the waters, fall, fall, fall,
And with a murmuring sound
Dash, dash upon the ground,
To gentle slumbers call.
The Works of John Dryden. 2nd ed. Vol II. Walter Scott, Ed.
London: William Miller, 1808. 348.
||to the works of John Dryden
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