The man is no more; the poet revives
I love thee Hoffmann! be mine!
Let the ashes of thy heart fire thy genius,
Whose serenity smiles on thy sorrows.
The Muse will soften thy blessed sufferings.
One is great by love but greater by tears.
(She disappears.)
Hoffmann (alone).
Oh God! what ecstasy embraces my soul,
Like a concert divine Thy voice hath moved me,