quotes, notes, timelines & more

Home » Quotes » The Tempest » Come unto these yellow sands

Come unto these yellow sands

Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands.
Curtsied when you have, and kissed
The wild waves whist.
Foot it featly here and there,
And sweet sprites bear
The burden. Hark, hark!
Burden dispersedly, within: Bow-wow.
The watchdogs bark.
Burden dispersedly, within: Bow-wow.
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry cock-a-diddle-dow.

Where should this music be? I' th' air, or th' earth?
It sounds no more; and sure it waits upon
Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the King my father's wrack,
This music crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury and my passion
With its sweet air.

The fringèd curtains of thine eye advance
And say what thou seest yond.

Thence I have followed it,
Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.
No, it begins again.

Full fathom five thy father lies.
Of his bones are coral made.
Those are pearls that were his eyes.
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea nymphs hourly ring his knell.
Burden, within: Ding dong.
Hark, now I hear them: ding dong bellOnomatopoeia

The ditty does remember my drowned father.
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the Earth owes. I hear it now above me.
Prospero, to Miranda
The fringèd curtains of thine eye advance
And say what thou seest yond.
What is ‘t? A spirit?
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.
No, wench, it eats and sleeps and hath such senses
As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest
Was in the wrack; and, but he's something stained
With grief—that's beauty's canker—thou might'st call him
A goodly person. He hath lost his fellows
And strays about to find 'em.
I might call him
A thing divine, for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.

Act 1
Scene 2
Line 452

Source Type:

Spoken by:
, , ,

, , ,

Figures of Speech: