Fill the high cup that is so soon to break
With richer wine than they.
Ay, since beyond these walls no heavens there be,
Joy to revive or wasted youth repair,
I’ll not bedim the lovely flame in thee
Nor sully the sad splendor that we wear.
Great be the love, if with the lover dies
Our greatness past recall;
And nobler for the fading of those eyes
The world seen once for all.”