Mournful of mind, in the moldy earth.
And through the gift of God I shall gain once more
Like the Phœnix fowl, a fair new life,
On the day of arising from ruinous death,
560 Delights with God, where the loving throng
Are exalting their Lord. I look not at all
Ever to come to the end of that life
Of light and bliss, though my body shall lie
In its gruesome grave and grow decayed,
565 A joy to worms; for the Judge of the world