Canto LVII
In those sad words I took farewell:Like echoes in sepulchral halls,As drop by drop the water fallsIn vaults and catacombs, they fell;
And, falling, idly broke the peaceOf hearts that beat from day to day,Half-conscious of their dying clay,And those cold crypts where they shall cease.
The high Muse answer’d: ‘Wherefore grieveThy brethren with a fruitless tear?Abide a little longer here,And thou shalt take a nobler leave.’