And pray thy spirit may such quiet have,
That not one thought unkind be murmur'd o'er thy grave.
"SO HAROLD ENDS, IN GREECE, HIS PILGRIMAGE!—
There fitly ending,—in that land renown'd,
Whose mighty genius lives in Glory's page,—
He, on the Muses' consecrated ground,
Sinking to rest, while his young brows are bound
With their unfading wreath!—To bands of mirth,
No more in TEMPE let the pipe resound!
HAROLD, I follow to thy place of birth