Take the cloak from his face, and at first Let the corpse do its worst!

How he lies in his rights of a man!

Death has done all death can.

And, absorbed in the new life he leads, He recks not, he heeds Nor his wrong nor my vengeance; both strike On his senses alike, And are lost in the solemn and strange Surprise of the change.

Ha, what avails death to erase His offence, my disgrace?

I would we were boys as of old In the field, by the fold:

His outrage, God's patience, man's scorn Were so easily borne!

I stand here now, he lies in his place:

Cover the face!