II.
On golden chair in the regions infernal,
Beside her spouse, the monarch eternal,
Queen Proserpine’s sitting
With mien ill befitting
Her station, and sadly she’s sighing:
“For roses I yearn, and the rapturous blisses
“Of Philomel’s song, and the sun’s sweet kisses;
“And here ’mongst the pallid
“Lemures and squalid
“Dead bodies, my youth’s days are flying.
“I’m firmly bound in the hard yoke of marriage
“In this hole, which I’m sure e’en a rat would disparage
“And the spectres unsightly
“Through my window peep nightly,
“Their wails with the Styx’s groans vying.
“This very day I’ve invited to dinner
“Old Charon, the bald-pated spindle-shank’d sinner,—
“And also the Judges,
“Those wearisome drudges—
“Such company’s really too trying!”