Lyrical Intermezzo, 34

When in the tomb, my mistress fair,
The chilly tomb, thou must hide thee.
I’ll soon descend to rejoin thee there,
And fondly nestle beside thee.

I wildly will press thee, embrace thee, and kiss
My pale, cold, fearful-to-see love!
I’ll tremble, weep, shout with rapturous bliss,
And soon be a corpse like thee, love.

The dead will arise, when midnight is nigh,
And dance in airy troops lightly;
But we in the tomb will quietly lie,
Thine arms embracing me tightly.

The dead will arise, when the loud trump of doom
To bliss or to torment is calling;
But regardless of all, we’ll remain in the tomb,
Still clasp’d in embraces enthralling.