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!
