Original (inglés)

CHAPTER LXXIV.                              I do but hide              Under these words, like embers, every spark              Of that which has consumed me. Quick and dark              The grave is yawning;—as its roof shall cover              My limbs with dust and worms, under and over,              So let oblivion hide this grief.              Julian and Maddalo.              With thee, the very future fled,                 I stand amid the past alone;