“Now let me to that place repair; an impulse from on high,
A sacred impulse carries me to where I’m doomed to die.
O daughter! I must show the way—aye, I, myself, the guide,
To you who hitherto did lead, or clave unto my side.
Nay! touch me not, but suffer me, myself to find the road
That leadeth to the silent tomb, and to the dark abode.
O Hermes! guardian of the soul that fleeteth from this breast!
O Goddess of the darkest night—Give to thy weary rest!
O light! beloved, glorious light! that once did fill these eyes.
Now I embrace thy sacred beams, then turn where shadow lies.