And count the dull sands as they pass?” &c.
It was touchingly sung, but had too much of gloom and despondency for the theatre: possibly it may have reminded some of its hearers of their own delinquency.
With what solemnity has our great Dramatic Bard foreshadowed Time’s waning:
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.
His departure is again sketched in Troilus and Cressida:
Time is like a fashionable host,