To give their merit value in our grief.
Whose blood however yet neglected must
Without revenge or rites mingle with dust;
Not any falling drop shall ever dry,
Till to a weeping spring it multiply,
Bath'd in whose tears their blasted laurel shall
270Grow green, and with fresh garlands crown their fall.
From this black region then of Death and Night,
Great Spirits, take your everlasting flight:
And as your valour's mounting fires combine,