O thou, my divine, who in thy rule
Dost cradle Death's changeable effect;
Who by withering flourished true
And showered thy love widespread.
If thee, Chatelaine, must bring to ruin
That which she wishes to make prosper,
Then keep thee to this noble ambition,
That your savvy may Death dishonor,
And those moments he would dispatch
Shall go on, his intentions put to death!