Ah, ah, alas, you salt sea gods! bow down your ears divine; Lend ladies here warm water springs to moist their crystal eune. That they may weep and wail and wring their hands with me For death of lord and husband mine: alas, alas, alas, alas, lo, this is he! alas a he! You gods! that guide the ghosts and souls of them that fled, Send sobs, send sighs, send grievous groans, and strike poor Panthea dead. Abradad, Abradad, ah, ah, alas poor Abradad! my sprite with thine shall lie. Come, death, alas. O death most sweet, for now I crave to die.