Threnody

Though my boyhood scarce is over, Yet the dark Plutonian tide Many a friend and loyal lover From my bosom doth divide.

In the cypress-shaded valleys Of the solemn nether realm, They in draughts from Lethe’s chalice, Every mortal memory whelm.

While above, the pensive willow Droops forever o’er their urns, And around their earthy pillow Glide the many-footed worms.

In the race with me they started From the East with visions gay, Vehement and hero-hearted, Fearless of the coming fray.

Brightly flowed their golden tresses In the soft auroral wind, And, like falcons from their jesses, Upward bore they unconfined.

Bathed their spirits in the splendor Of the Scian bard sublime, And of Maro’s lay more tender Heard the symphony divine.

Felt their hearts with love unbounded For their country running o’er, While they read the words that sounded In the Attic Pnyx of yore.

But the frosts of death descended, Ere was gone the morning’s dew, And their joyful being ended, While the world was fresh and new.

Though the rose and lily wither On their garden beds awhile, Soon the gentle vernal weather Shall restore their former smile.

But for man august and splendid, Than the angels little lower, When his dreamlike life is ended, Blooms his withered frame no more.

Shades of friendship, gliding slowly On Cocytus’ farther brink, In this cup of nectar holy Once again to you I drink.

Ye have crossed the languid river, Ye have paid the last obole; Day for you has set forever, Ye have won the mystic goal!