Unto another language.
Elm. Peace, my son!
Have pity on my heart! Oh, pardon, chief!
He is of noble blood. Hear, hear me yet!
Are there no lives through which the shafts of heaven
May reach your soul? He that loves aught on earth,
Dares far too much, if he be merciless!
Is it for those, whose frail mortality
Must one day strive alone with God and death,
To shut their souls against th’ appealing voice