“This throng is large by whom we thus are pressed,
And come to implore of thee,” the Poet said—
“Therefore keep on, and as thou mov'st attend.”
“O soul who travellest, with the very frame
Which thou wert born with, to thy blessed end,
Stay thy step somewhat!”—crying thus they came.
“Look if among us any thou dost know,
That thou of him to earth mayst tidings bear.
Stay—wilt thou not? ah! wherefore must thou go?
We to our dying hour were sinners there: