Edward Bulwer-Lytton: The Last Days of Pompeii

BOOK THE FOURTH 8. Chapter VIII (continued)

         Ilicet--ire licet!
        The spark from the hearth is gone
          Wherever the air shall bear it;
        The elements take their own--
         The shadows receive thy spirit.
        It will soothe thee to feel our grief,
          As thou glid'st by the Gloomy River!
        If love may in life be brief,
          In death it is fixed for ever.
                  Salve--salve!
        In the hall which our feasts illume,
        The rose for an hour may bloom;
        But the cypress that decks the tomb--
       The cypress is green for ever!
                  Salve--salve!