"
Mr. "Mishrush" seemed not a little relieved at nearing company after
his lonely walk; triumphant, too, at having guided me hither so
cunningly. He lifted his nimble cudgel in the air and waved it
conceitedly to and fro in time to the song that rose beyond the
window. "Fau'ow er Wur'!--Fau'ow er Wur'!" he cried delightedly again
and again in my ear, eager apparently for my approval. So we stood,
then, beneath the starless sky, listening to the rich _choragium_ of
the "World's End." They sang in unison, sang with a kind of forlorn
heat and enthusiasm. And when the song was ended, and the roar of
applause over, Night, like a darkened water whelmed silently in,
engulfed it to the echo:
Follow the World--
She bursts the grape,
And dandles man
In her green lap;
She moulds her Creature
From the clay,
And crumbles him
To dust away:
Follow the World!
One Draught, one Feast,
One Wench, one Tomb;
And thou must straight
To ashes come:
Drink, eat, and sleep;
Why fret and pine?
Death can but snatch
What ne'er was thine:
Follow the World!
It died away, I say, and an ostler softly appeared out of the shadow.
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