_Phe._ Tears forbid All utterance of our woes. Bereft of sense, More lifeless than the dying victim, see The desolate Admetus. Farther yet, Still farther, let us bear him from the sight Of his Alcestis. _Alc._ O my handmaids! still Lend me your pious aid, and thus compose With sacred modesty these torpid limbs When death’s last pang is o’er. _Chorus._ Alas! how weak Her struggling voice! that last keen pang is near. Peace, mourners, peace! Be hush’d, be silent, in this hour of dread! Our cries would but increase The sufferer’s pang; let tears unheard be shed, Cease, voice of weeping, cease! Sustain, O friend! Upon thy faithful breast, The head that sinks with mortal pain opprest! And thou assistance lend To close the languid eye, Still beautiful in life’s last agony. Alas, how long a strife! What anguish struggles in the parting breath, Ere yet immortal life Be won by death! Death! death! thy work complete! Let thy sad hour be fleet, Speed, in thy mercy, the releasing sigh! No more keen pangs impart To her, the high in heart, Th’ adored Alcestis, worthy ne’er to die. _Chorus of Admetus._ ’Tis not enough, oh no! To hide the scene of anguish from his eyes; Still must our silent band Around him watchful stand, And on the mourner ceaseless care bestow, That his ear catch not grief’s funereal cries. Yet, yet hope is not dead, All is not lost below, While yet the gods have pity on our woe. Oft when all joy is fled, Heaven lends support to those Who on its care in pious hope repose. Then to the blessed skies Let our submissive prayers in chorus rise. Pray! bow the knee, and pray! What other task have mortals, born to tears, Whom fate controls with adamantine sway? O ruler of the spheres! Jove! Jove! enthroned immortally on high, Our supplication hear! Nor plunge in bitterest woes Him, who nor footstep moves, nor lifts his eye But as a child, which only knows Its father to revere. IL CONTE DI CARMAGNOLA; A TRAGEDY. BY ALESSANDRO MANZONI.