“And Sorrow’s faded form, and Solitude behind.
V.
“Mighty Victor, mighty Lord,
“Low on his funeral couch he lies![41]
“No pitying heart, no eye, afford
“A tear to grace his obsequies.
“Is the sable Warrior fled?[42]
“Thy son is gone. He rests among the Dead.
“The Swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were born.
“Gone to salute the rising Morn.