Moriens Superstiti

The hour-bell sounds, and I must go;

Death waits—again I hear him calling;—

No cowardly desires have I,

Nor will I shun his face appalling.

I die in faith and honour rich—

But ah! I leave behind my treasure

In widowhood and lonely pain;—

To live were surely then a pleasure!





My lifeless eyes upon thy face

Shall never open more to-morrow;

To-morrow shall thy beauteous eyes

Be closed to Love, and drown'd in Sorrow;

To-morrow Death shall freeze this hand,

And on thy breast, my wedded treasure,

I never, never more shall live;—

Alas! I quit a life of pleasure.