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What beck'ning ghost along the moonlight shade
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
What beck'ning ghost along the moonlight shade
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
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A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets;
As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands
Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.
Where entity and quiddity,
The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly.
Where entity and quiddity,
The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly.
What are these,
So withered and so wild in their attire
That took not like th' inhabitants read more
What are these,
So withered and so wild in their attire
That took not like th' inhabitants o' th' earth
And yet are on't?
Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts.
Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts.
So many ghosts, and forms of fright,
Have started from their graves to-night,
They have driven sleep read more
So many ghosts, and forms of fright,
Have started from their graves to-night,
They have driven sleep from mine eyes away;
I will go down to the chapel and pray.
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow,
And Scipio's ghost walks unavenged amongst us!
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow,
And Scipio's ghost walks unavenged amongst us!
There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
To tell us this.
There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
To tell us this.
I look for ghosts; but none will force
Their way to me; 'tis falsely said
That even read more
I look for ghosts; but none will force
Their way to me; 'tis falsely said
That even there was intercourse
Between the living and the dead.