Nor can I touch the gross earth any more!
Pray for me, gentlemen!—but breathe no blessings—
Let not a blessing sweeten your dread prayers—
I wish no blessings—nor could bear their weight;
For I am left, I know not where or how:
But, pray for me—my soul is buried here.
Middleton.
"Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight,
And burned is Apollo's laurel bough!"