The light is fading, the beacon that eternally crosses the wide sky has gone out. O longed-for night, throw a veil over the guilty murderous hand. A new crime! It must be so! The fatal deed must be done. Power means nothing to the dead; for them a requiem and eternity. Oh, desire of the throne! Oh, sceptre, at last you are mine! Every living desire is quieted and calmed in you. The man who was prophesied king will soon fall lifeless.