Old Fortunatus – Epilogue

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Nay, stay, poor pilgrims.  When I entered first
The circle of this bright celestial sphere
I wept for joy.  Now I could weep for fear.

I fear we all, like mortal men, shall prove
Weak, not in love, but in expressing love.

Let everyone beg once more on his knee,
One pardon for himself, and one for me,
For I enticed you hither.  Oh, dear goddess,
Breath life in our numb’d spirits with one smile,
And from this cold earth we with lively souls
Shall rise like men new-born and make heav’n sound
With hymns sung to thy name, and prayers that we
May once a year so oft enjoy this sight,
Till these young boys change their curl’d locks to white,
And when gray-winged age sits on their heads,
That so their children may supply their steads,
And that heaven’s great arithmetician,
Who in the scales of number weighs the world,
May still to forty-two, add one year more,
And still add one to one that went before,
And multiply four tens by many a ten.
To this I cry “Amen.”

Amen, amen.

Good night, dear mistress.  Those that wish thee harm,
Thus let them stoop under destruction’s arm.

Amen, amen, amen!

F I N I S.

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