IV.

LONGING OF ORESTES FOR REPOSE.

One draught from Lethe’s flood!--reach me one draught, One last cool goblet fill’d with dewy peace! Soon will the spasm of life departing leave My bosom free! Soon shall my spirit flow Along the deep waves of forgetfulness, Calmly and silently! away to you, Ye dead! Ye dwellers of the eternal cloud! Take home the son of earth, and let him steep His o’erworn senses in your dim repose For evermore.