An homecoming that striveth ever more And cometh to no home. - Euripides

Notes of joy blend with the tearful dirge
When Apollo's voice rings forth,
when with his golden plectrum
He rouses rich music from his lute.
I too will chant the praise
Of one who has entered the night of the world below

This is slavery, not to speak one's thought.

Oh, if I had Orpheus' voice and poetry with which to move the Dark Maid and her Lord, I'd call you back, dear love, from the world below. I'd go down there for you. Charon or the grim King's dog could not prevent me then from carrying you up into the fields of light.