"Bury me out of sight, and out of call."
Wherefore no filial foot this turf may tread,
No kneeling mother clasp her baby's bed;
No maiden unespoused, with widow'd sighs,
Seek her soul's treasure where her true-love lies;
—All stand aloof, and gazing from afar,
Look on this mount as on some baleful star,
Strange to the heavens, that with bewildering light,
Like a lost spirit, wanders through the night.
Yet many a mourner weeps her fall'n estate,