SEV.
The flower is gone--I cherish but the root!

PAUL.
Untimely blossom bears a fated fruit!

SEV.
My grief be mine! Let memory remain!

PAUL.
That grief might hope beget, so leave a stain!

SEV.
Not mine to stain what Heaven hath made so pure!
For me one offering left: 'tis this: Endure!
Thy glory shall be mine, my load I bear,
So, spotless, thou thy peerless crown shalt wear!
Farewell, my love, farewell; I go to prove my faith,
To bless, to save thy life, so will I mate with death!
If prostrate from the blow, there yet remains of life
Enough to summon death, and end the piteous strife!

PAUL.
My grief, too deep for voice, shall silent be,
There, in my chamber, will I pray for thee!
When thou art gone, great Heaven shall hear my cry;
Grief's fruit for thee be hope--death--immortality!

SEV.
Now with my loss alone let Fate contented be.