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著者: Adam Mickiewicz

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Jacek, as he listened, repeated prayers in a low voice, and,
clasping to his breast the consecrated candle, raised to Heaven
his eyes, now kindled with hope, and shed a flood of last joyous
tears. "Now, O Lord," he said, "let thy servant depart in peace!"
All kneeled; and then a bell rang at the door, a token that the
priest had arrived with the body of our Lord.
Night was just departing, and across the milky sky were streaming
the first rosy beams of the sun: they entered through the window
panes like diamond arrows, and fell upon the bed; they surrounded
the head of the sick man, wreathing with gold his face and his
temples, so that he shone like a saint in a fiery crown.
BOOK XI.-THE YEAR 1812
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