Envoi

Let us, who part like brothers, part like bards; And you in your tongue and measure, I in mine, Our now division duly solemnise. Unlike the strains, and yet the theme is one: The strains unlike, and how unlike their fate! You to the blinding palace-yard shall call The prefect of the singers, and to him, Listening devout, your valedictory verse Deliver; he, his attribute fulfilled, To the island chorus hand your measures on, Wed now with harmony: so them, at last, Night after night, in the open hall of dance, Shall thirty matted men, to the clapped hand, Intone and bray and bark. Unfortunate! Paper and print alone shall honour mine.