And bow’d his face upon the sepulchre,
Weeping aloud; while Roderick, overpower’d,
And calling upon earth to cover him,
Threw himself prostrate on his father’s grave.
Thus as they lay, an aweful voice in tones
Severe address’d them. Who are ye, it said,
That with your passion thus, and on this night,
Disturb my prayers? Starting they rose; there stood
A man before them of majestic form
And stature, clad in sackcloth, bare of foot,