Hidden beneath ruin of a broken tower;
Cast down by neglect or my ignorance,
Whereby I myself perished every day.
Rather would I submit a single death,
Than to your crosses which you carried;
Still to save at least a few amid flames
Brought about by circumstances dire;
Through there is nothing sweeter to find
Among glowing embers still flying here:
Such consolation from your fair faces.
You faces familiar will lie with sleep;
Nothing more by me can be done now.