Three hours ago I paid him, as was meet,
The last respects, and bore him to his tomb.
He died of hunger; this I now repeat.
Marquino.
'Tis well; the fitting season is in bloom,
Announced before by each propitious sign,
To summon from the nether realms of gloom
The fallen spirits, fearsome and malign.
Now to my verses give attentive ear:
Fierce Pluto, thou, whom Fate hath called to reign