Nor the furious winter's rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney sweepers come to dust.
Fear no more the frown of the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dread thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan;
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust."
(Found on page 402.)
Shakespeare, in this poem (which is an excerpt from Cymbeline), uses a number of literary devices. The most prevalent of these is the repetition of "must" and "return to dust." Such repetition shows the inevitability of death. Furthermore, "fear no more" (and similar phrases) is also repeated, pointing out that death is a reprieve from the dangers of life. Additionally, the dust motif that Shakespeare uses may be a reference to Genesis 3:19, which states, "Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return" This reinforces the idea of the unstoppable nature of death. Together, the repetition and allusion in this rather short poem serve as a source of comfort for those who fear death.
While I have not read Cymbeline, I do feel accurate in my interpretation of the poem. First and foremost, it makes clear the inevitability of death. As stated, the repetition of "return to dust" makes this obvious. It may seem that the speakers are bemoaning the fact that all will eventually die. However, the rest of the poem reveals that they feel just the opposite. The dead, they state, do not have to fear the summer or the winter, lightning or thunder, or oppression. They do not have to worry about necessities such as eating or getting dressed, and they are safe from being hurt by others. Shakespeare not only ensures readers that death is not to be feared, but in a way actually welcomes death as relief from the troubles of life. Though seemingly somewhat macabre, in reality, the poem is strangely beautiful.
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