When the lamp in front of our eyes
To the temple of Roman muses you lit up a step
And we wondered involuntarily that above us
Horace hovers a shadow, —
For the first time, quiet and joyful tears
The singer breathing from your lips has pulled out:
His non-fading roses captivated us
And a greening crown.
Into the silenced chamber to Minerva and Zeus
Following you the crowd was jubilant, —
And quietly the ancient you spread the veil
From a thundering eagle.
But your light is gone. Reliable union
Fate did not doom between us and you —
And, dropping the lyre, the muse fell silently
In tears above the grave urn.
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