Let those he loves prepare his tomb,
Let friendship lure him to his doom!
Perish his deeds, his name, his race,
Without a record or a trace!
Away! be watchful, swift, and free,
To wreak th’ invisible’s decree.
’Tis pass’d—th’ avenger claims his prey:
On to the chase of death—away!”
And all was still. The sweeping blast
Caught not a whisper as it pass’d;