48
VERSI SPAGNUOLI DI PIETRO BEMBO.
O Muerte! que sueles ser.
THOU, the stern monarch of dismay,
Whom nature trembles to survey,
Oh Death! to me, the child of grief,
Thy welcome power would bring relief,
Changing to peaceful slumber many a care.
And though thy stroke may thrill with pain
Each throbbing pulse, each quivering vein;
The pangs that bid existence close,
Ah! sure are far less keen than those,
Which cloud its lingering moments with despair.
