The End.

If well thou hast begun, go on fore-right;
It is the end that crowns us, not the fight.

Let's be jocund while we may,
All things have an ending day;
And when once the work is done,
Fates revolve no flax they've spun.

My wearied bark, O let it now be crown'd!
The haven reach'd to which I first was bound.

Kings must be dauntless; subjects will contemn
Those who want hearts and wear a diadem.

Part of the work remains; one part is past:
And here my ship rides, having anchor cast.

Though by well warding many blows we've pass'd,
That stroke most fear'd is which is struck the last.