Or what their worth and virtue, that should make
This graceless world so pleasant for their sake. 270
“But to my tale:—Behold me as I tread
The silent mansions of the favour’d dead,
Who sleep in vaulted chambers, till their clay, }
In quiet dissolution, melts away }
In this their bodies’ home—The spirits, where are they? }
‘And where his spirit?—Doors and walls impede
The embodied spirit, not the spirit freed’.
And, saying this, I at the altar knelt,