Orcus owns the magic might—
Peaceful where She sits beside,
Smiles the swart King on his Bride;
Hell feels the smile in sudden light—
Love can sun the Realms of Night.
Heavenly o'er the startled Hell,
Holy, where the Accursed dwell,
O Thracian, went thy silver song!
Grim Minos, with unconscious tears,
Melts into mercy as he hears—