DIABOLUS.
There is an end of grief and mirth,
There is an end of all things born,
And if ye sow into the earth
A seed, ye shall have corn;
But if ye sow its withered root
It shall not bear you any fruit,
It will not sprout and spring again;
And if ye look to gather grain,
Of men mote ye have scorn.
Man’s body buried is the sown
Dead root, whose flower is over-blown.
SANCTUS PAULUS.
Beshrew thee for thy subtleties
That melt the hearts of men with lies,
An evil task hath he that tries
To still thy subtle tongue!
But look ye round and ye shall see
The Dames that Queens of dead men be,
I wot there are no mo than three,
When all is said and sung.
Hic intrabunt et cantabunt tres Reginæ.
PERSEPHONE.
I am the Queen Persephone.
The lips of Grecians prayed to me,
Saying, I give men sleep;
But I would have ye well to know
That with me none do slumber so;
But there be some that weep,
And juster souls content to dwell
Among the fields of asphodel,
By the Nine Waters deep.
HELA.
I am the Queen of Hela’s House,
Great clouds I bind upon my brows;
Night for a covering.
For them I hold, I will ye wot
They sorrow, but they slumber not,
They have no lust to sing,
And never comes a merry voice,
Nor doth a soul of them rejoice
Until their uprising.
SANCTA LUCIA.