Let the night perish; cursed be the morn
Wherein 'twas said: there is a man-child born!
Let not the Lord regard that day, but shroud 
Its fatal glory in some sullen cloud.
May the dark shades of an eternal night
Exclude the least kind beam of dawning light;
Let unborn babes, as in the womb they lie,
If it be mentioned, give a groan, and die.
No sounds of joy therein shall charm the ear,
No sun, no moon, no twilight stars appear
But a thick veil of gloomy darkness wear.
Why did I not, when first my mother's womb
Discharg'd me thence, drop down into my tomb?
Then had I been as quiet, and mine eyes
Had slept, and seen no sorrow; there the wise
And subtle counsellor, the potentate,
Who for themselves built palaces of state,
Lie hush'd in silence; there's no midnight cry
Caus'd by oppression and the tyranny
Of wicked rulers; there the weary cease
From labour, there the pris'ner sleeps in peace;
The rich, the poor, the monarch and the slave
Rest undisturb'd and no distinction have
Within the silent chambers of the grave.