The long-lov'd ringlet once Maria grac'd,
Upon his breast by holy Friendship plac'd;
The sinking iron slung with duteous pains,
In shrouded canvass wrapt his cold remains—
A rev'rent silence the sad prospect draws;
The sacred liturgy, with solemn pause,
Swells the sad sound, at whose inverted doom,
Plung'd in th' abyss, he finds the liquid tomb!
Aw'd by the scene—in melancholy mood
And dumb despair, they view the closing flood;