(The corpse was then descending the abyss,)
“Oh, give me death, and bury me like this!”
He doff’d his helmet (noble was his brow),
And as a child the hero seemèd now;
For while he listen’d to th’ harmonious flow
Of sound, unmatch’d on earth, his heart did leap.
And Pan was there with his melodious pipe;
Who—god of woods, of shepherds, most divine—
On this occasion made his genius shine,—
His reed he blew with such delightful force,