Page:The heptalogia, or, The seven against sense - a cap with seven bells (IA heptalogiaorseve00swin).pdf/47

 last glance at these sands and stones! Time goes past men, and lives to his liking, Steals, and ruins, and sometimes atones. Why should he be king, though, and why not I king? There now, that wind, like a swarm of sick drones!

Is it heaven or mere earth (come!) that moves so and moans? Oh, I knew, when you loved me, my soul was in flowerage—