Quick from my land begone!
Or shaltst be fettered foot and hand,
And in a dungeon thrown.
Angel. Then Death he shot a deadly dart,
And pierced the King unto the heart.
Death. O foolish mortal, proud and blind!
See now, where is thy vaunted power
In iron fetters Death to bind?
Angel. The King he turneth deadly pale,
And feels his strength about to fail.