Angelica, 9

This wild carnival of loving,
This delirium of our bosoms
Comes unto an end, and now we
Soberly gape on each other!

Drain’d the cup is to the bottom,
Brimming with intoxication,
Foaming, glowing to the margin;
Drain’d the cup is to the bottom.

And the fiddles too are silent,
Which for dancing gave the signal,
Signal for the dance of passion;
Yes, the fiddles too are silent.

And the lamps too are extinguish’d,
Which their wild light shed so brightly
On the masquerade exciting;
Yes, the lamps too are extinguish’d.

And to-morrow comes Ash-Wednesday,
When I’ll sign upon thy forehead
With the cross of ashes, saying:
“Woman, that thou’rt dust, forget not.”