We’ll not disturb them now.
Tread lightly; for ’tis beautiful,
That blue-veined eyelid’s sleep,
Hiding the eye death left so dull;
Its slumber we will keep.
Rest now! his journeying is done;
Your feet are on his sod.
Death’s chain is on your champion;
Here waiteth he his God!
Aye, turn and weep! ’tis manliness