‘Yea, the rose is beautiful, and Time he withers it; and fair is the violet in spring, and swiftly it waxes old; white is the lily, it fadeth when it falleth; and snow is white, and melteth after it hath been frozen. And the beauty of youth is fair, but lives only for a little season.
‘That time will come when thou too shalt love, when thy heart shall burn, and thou shalt weep salt tears.
‘But, child, do me even this last favour; when thou comest forth, and see’st me hanging in thy gateway,—pass me not careless by, thy hapless lover, but stand, and weep a little while; and when thou hast made this libation of thy tears, then loose me from the rope, and cast over me some garment from thine own limbs, and so cover me from sight; but first kiss me for that latest time of all, and grant the dead this grace of thy lips.
‘Fear me not, I cannot live again, no, not though thou shouldst be reconciled to me, and kiss me. A tomb for me do thou hollow, to be the hiding-place of my love, and if thou departest, cry thrice above me,—
O friend, thou liest low!
And if thou wilt, add this also,—
Alas, my true friend is dead!
‘And this legend do thou write, that I will scratch on thy walls,—
This man Love slew! Wayfarer, pass not heedless by,
But stand, and say, “he had a cruel darling.”’
Therewith he seized a stone, and laid it against the wall, as high as the middle of the doorposts, a dreadful stone, and from the lintel he fastened the slender halter, and cast the noose about his neck, and kicked away the support from under his foot, and there was he hanged dead.