Sphere all your lights around, above; My Arthur, whom I shall not see In Memoriam, IX. Ignes super circumque mille tu seras Prorae quietum; vos simul quiescite, Venti faventes, ut meus Frater quiescit et sodalis unicus, Vetitum est videre, donec orbatam dies Vitam suprema clauserit, Dilectus ut dilecta filio parens, Ipsoque fratre carior. A. J. C. 'Tis well; 'tis something; we may stand 'Tis little; but it looks in truth As if the quiet bones were blest Among familiar names to rest And in the places of his youth. Come then, pure hands, and bear the head Which sleeps or wears the mask of sleep, And come, whatever loves to weep, And hear the ritual of the dead. XXVIII. АH! bene sors aliquid vano concessit amori; Credimus, Ah! nostri solatia quantula luctus, Nos species fallit, tempora ferte manu; Et quantum est usquam lacrymarum accede sepulchro, Sacra piis cultum ritibus ossa veni. Ah yet, e'en yet, if this might be, I, falling on his faithful heart, Would breathing thro' his lips impart The life that almost dies in me; That dies not, but endures with pain, In Memoriam, XVIII. |