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The eight Muse.
Then valiant Kenneth went to Camelon,
And threw to Earth King Donskins ancient throne.
So greatest Kingdomes to their periods tend,
And everything that growes, must have an end.
Where is that golden head that reing'd so long,
The silver armes and bellie of brasse most strong?
The yron legs divided now in toes
Are mixt with clay: and so the world it goes.
Thus nations like stars in multitude,
Like sand on shore, or fishes in the floud;
Yea rooted in the Earth so deep, so long,
As on the mountains grow the Cedars strong,
Yet time hath overturn'd them, and their names
Are past, as Letters written on the streames:
To tell us, here we have no constant biding,
The world unto decay is alwayes sliding,
One Kingdome ever doth remaine, and all
Gainst it who rise to powder turne they shall.
Neere this we did perceave where proud Makbeth,
Who to the furies did his soul bequeath,[1]
His castle mounted on Dunsinnen hill,
Causing the mightiest peeres obey his will,
And bow their necks to build his Babylon;
Thus Nimrod-like he did triumph upon
That mountain, which doth overtop that plaine:
And as the starrie heaven he should attaine,
A loftie tower, and Atlas caused build,
Then tyrannizing, rag'd as Nimrod wild:
Who had this strange response that none should catch him
That borne was of a woman, or should match him:
And threw to Earth King Donskins ancient throne.
So greatest Kingdomes to their periods tend,
And everything that growes, must have an end.
Where is that golden head that reing'd so long,
The silver armes and bellie of brasse most strong?
The yron legs divided now in toes
Are mixt with clay: and so the world it goes.
Thus nations like stars in multitude,
Like sand on shore, or fishes in the floud;
Yea rooted in the Earth so deep, so long,
As on the mountains grow the Cedars strong,
Yet time hath overturn'd them, and their names
Are past, as Letters written on the streames:
To tell us, here we have no constant biding,
The world unto decay is alwayes sliding,
One Kingdome ever doth remaine, and all
Gainst it who rise to powder turne they shall.
Neere this we did perceave where proud Makbeth,
Who to the furies did his soul bequeath,[1]
His castle mounted on Dunsinnen hill,
Causing the mightiest peeres obey his will,
And bow their necks to build his Babylon;
Thus Nimrod-like he did triumph upon
That mountain, which doth overtop that plaine:
And as the starrie heaven he should attaine,
A loftie tower, and Atlas caused build,
Then tyrannizing, rag'd as Nimrod wild:
Who had this strange response that none should catch him
That borne was of a woman, or should match him:
Nor
- ↑ Makbeths castle on Dūsinoun hill.