Ha! as I speak, behold, she visits me,
With that fair choir of angels trooping round her,
And cherub faces, with expanded wings
Upbearing her! O blessed Saint, depart not!
Breathe on my cold lips those still cherished kisses
Which thine in death impressed! Sigh in mine ear
Those half-articulate blessings, unforgotten,
Which made my childhood less than martyrdom!
I’ll clasp thee—mother!
[Totters forward and falls.]”