And let the wheel that never stops its flight
Bear these my limbs upon its whirling rim.
Now yawn, O earth, and chaos dire, receive,
I pray, receive me to your depths; for thus
'Tis fitting that I journey to the shades.
I go to meet my son. And fear thou not,1240
Thou king of dead men's souls; I come in peace
To that eternal home, whence ne'er again
Shall I come forth.
My prayers move not the gods.