Nay sneak not off thus cowardly—poor fools

Ye are as destitute of information

As is the lifeless subject of my thoughts!

The subject of my thoughts? Yes—there he lies

As free from life, as if he ne'er had lived.

Where are his friends and where his old acquaintance

Who borrowed from his strength, when in the yoke,

With weary pace the steep ascent they climbed?

Where are the gay companions of his prime,

Who with him ambled o'er the flowery turf,