From every horse a rein shall concentrate,
And mighty Hercules[137] shall drive in state;
For he, alone, hath strength at his command
To grasp the giant bridle in one hand;
Whilst with the other he upholds his beam,
And sends the silver lash forth with a scream:
The goddess Mors[138] shall join the funeral train,
Close followed by the nymphs, arranged in twain;
Whose sun-brown’d faces shall be draped with care,
Their bodies plaited immortelles shall wear;