Hath circled thy gray locks! Hence—tear it hence!
And sever at the same time from this body
This trembling head! Death were more welcome far
Than present anguish!—death—’tis death I ask.
Jonathan.
Now, since his vengeful wrath dissolves in grief,
Oh, brother! let thy voice his peace restore;
In sweet forgetfulness thou oft hast wrapt
His soul with song celestial.
Michol.