Then cast the dull grave’s gloomy trappings by!
The dead was wise, was just—nor feared to die.
Weep not for him. Go, mark his high career;
It knew no shame, no folly and no fear.
More blest than is man’s lot his blameless life,
Though tost by tempests and though torn by strife.
’Neath the primeval forest’s towery pride,
Virtue and Danger watched his couch beside;
This taught him purely, nobly to aspire,
That gave the nerve of steel and soul of fire.