But only that thou come again—alone.
Will all the world, heaped on thee, hold thy shade,1770
Or Cerberus avail to keep thee back?
When wilt thou batter down the gates of hell,
Or to what portals shall thy mother go?
Where is the highway that leads down to death?
E'en now thou tak'st thy journey to the shades,
Which thou wilt ne'er retrace. Why waste the hours
In vain complaints? And why, O wretched life,1775
Dost thou endure? Why dost thou cling to day?