Ah, mighty Queen! you urge me to disclose, And feel, once more, unutterable woes. - Christopher Pitt

But hear, ye gods! and Heaven's great ruler, hear,
With due regard, a king's and father's prayer!
My dear, dear Pallas, if the fates ordain
Safe to return, and bless these eyes again:
With age, pain, sickness, this one blessing give;
On this condition I'll endure to live.
But oh! if fortune has decreed his doom,
Now, now, by death, prevent my woes to come;
Now, while my hopes and fears uncertain flow,
Now, ere she lifts her hand to strike the blow;
While in these feeble arms I strain the boy,
My sole delight, my last surviving joy.
Ere the sad news of his untimely doom
Shall bow this head with sorrow to the tomb!

Poor pitied youth! ... Bring fragrant flowers, the whitest lilies bring, With all the purple beauties of the spring; These gifts at least, these honours I'll bestow On the dear youth, to please his shade below.

The shrill echoes ring amidst the skies.