No more keen pangs impart
To her, the high in heart,
Th’ adored Alcestis, worthy ne’er to die.
Chorus of Admetus.
’Tis not enough, oh no!
To hide the scene of anguish from his eyes;
Still must our silent band
Around him watchful stand,
And on the mourner ceaseless care bestow,
That his ear catch not grief’s funereal cries.