As though my better genius were at hand,
And strove to pluck me backwards by the hair.
I must be resolute. Lose this one chance,
Which bears me to th’ Acropolis of guilt,
And this, our age, foregoes its noblest song.
I must be speedy—
Organ and Choir.
A defunctis suscitatur
Furtum qui commiserat:
Et Judæus baptizatur