Song from the Duchess of Malfi by Alice Meynell

HARK, now everything is still,

The screech-owl and the whistler shrill

Call upon our dame aloud,

And bid her quickly don her shroud:

Much you had of land and rent,

Your length in clay's now competent;

A long war disturbed your mind,

Here your perfect peace is signed.

Of what is't fools make such vain keeping? / Sin their conception, their birth weeping, / Their life a general mist of error, / Their death a hideous storm of terror.

Strew your hair with powders sweet, / Don clean linen, bathe your feet, / And (the foul fiend more to check) / A crucifix let bless your neck; / 'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day; / End your groan and come away.