To call it thine would be a wrong to’t,
But rather that is the possessive,
And we should judge that you belong to’t;
And having met thee, properly I say,
Nose’s Harmocrates I saw to-day.
Ammianus gives quite a caustic turn to the common wish, that the earth may lie lightly on the breast of the departed.
Light lie the earth, Nearchus, on thy breast,
That dogs may tear thee from thy place of rest.
Here follows a little thing, replete with that still despair, so natural to a thoughtful Heathen.
By Archias.