Hob XXVIa, 41 The Spirit’s Song. [Neapolitan translation]

Hark! Hark, what I tell to thee,

Nor sorrow o'er the tomb;

My spirit wanders free,

And waits till thine shall come.

All pensive and alone,

I see thee sit and weep,

Thy head upon the stone

Where my cold ashes sleep.

I watch thy speaking eyes,

And mark each falling tear;

I catch thy passing sighs,

Ere they are lost in air.

Hark! Hark, what I tell to thee,

Nor sorrow o'er the tomb;

My spirit wanders free,

And waits till thine shall come.