All set about it like a deathless crown,
We will go mingle with the solemn throng,
With neither eyes that weep, nor hearts that bleed,
That to his grave with slow, majestic song
Bears down the latest of the godlike seed.
Many a singer lies on distant isle
Beneath the canopy of changing sky:
Around them waves innumerable smile,
And o’er their head the restless seabirds cry:
But we will lay him far from sound of seas,