They had made the land a desert
Betwixt here and San Brancazio,
Satiated with our heart's blood
Are Michele and Orazio.
Death, O death, how black and dreadful—
How remorseless is thy sway!
From a home once full thou'st taken,
Save the nest-egg, all away;
Is it fit that I, an orphan,
Here as head of house should stay?