Iter Boreale
Attempting Something upon the Successful and Matchless March of the Lord General George Monck from Scotland to London in the Winter, 1659
1.
The day is broke! Melpomene, begone;
Hag of my fancy, let me now alone;
Nightmare my soul no more; go take thy flight
Where traitors' ghosts keep an eternal night;
Flee to Mount Caucasus and bear thy part
With the black fowl that tears Prometheus' heart
For his bold sacrilege; go fetch the groans
Of defunct tyrants, with them croak thy tones.
1.
The day is broke! Melpomene, begone;
Hag of my fancy, let me now alone;
Nightmare my soul no more; go take thy flight
Where traitors' ghosts keep an eternal night;
Flee to Mount Caucasus and bear thy part
With the black fowl that tears Prometheus' heart
For his bold sacrilege; go fetch the groans
Of defunct tyrants, with them croak thy tones.
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