But this is past; and nought remains,
That raised thee o'er the brute.
Thy piercing shrieks, and soothing strains,
Are like, forever mute. Now fare thee well - more thou the cause,
Than subject now of woe.
All mental pangs, by time's kind laws,
Hast lost the power to know. O death! Thou awe-inspiring prince,
That keepst the world in fear;
Why dost thou tear more blest ones hence,
And leave him ling'ring here?