Go from my bosom now to other rest!
With this last kiss on thine unsullied brow,
And on thy pale, calm cheek these contrite tears,
I yield thee to thy Maker!
Husband. Now, my wife!
Thine own meek holiness beams forth once more
A light upon my path. Now shall I bear,
From thy dear arms, the slumberer to repose—
With a calm, trustful heart.
Agnes. My Edmund! where—