His brave right hand should be. Place here the left,
Well trained to curb his horses with the reins.
The marks of his left side I recognize;1260
And yet how large a part is lacking still
Unto our tears. Be firm, ye trembling hands,
To do the last sad offices of grief;
Be dry, my cheeks, and stay your flowing tears,
While I count o'er the members of my son,
And lay his body out for burial.1265
What is this shapeless piece, on all sides torn