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lirik lagu george rylands - the duncaid (book 4, lines 578 - 607)

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in vain, in vain—the all~composing hour
resistless falls: the muse obeys the pow’r
she comes! she comes! the sable throne behold
of night primeval, and of chaos old!
before her, fancy’s gilded clouds decay
and all its varying rainbows die away
wit shoots in vain its momentary fires
the meteor drops, and in a flash expires
as one by one, at dread medea’s strain
the sick’ning stars fade off th’ ethereal plain;
as argus’ eyes by hermes’ wand oppress’d
clos’d one by one to everlasting rest;
thus at her felt approach, and secret might
art after art goes out, and all is night
see skulking truth to her old cavern fled
mountains of casuistry heap’d o’er her head!
philosophy, that lean’d on heav’n before
shrinks to her second cause, and is no more
physic of metaphysic begs defence
and metaphysic calls for aid on sense!
see mystery to mathematics fly!
in vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die
religion blushing veils her sacred fires
and unawares morality expires
nor public flame, nor private , dares to shine;
nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine!
lo! thy dread empire, chaos! is restor’d;
light dies before thy uncreating word:
thy hand, great anarch! lets the curtain fall;
and universal darkness buries all


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