Of the warrior, twigs the logs to bind.
Vast the heap; but, with oil and incense, soon
Fire had done its work; and when it died down,
All being gone that of the mass could burn,
They closed the ashes, wine-washed, in the urn.
Then Chorinœus sprinkled thrice the ring
Of mourners with pure water from the spring,
And bade the Shade, leaving the world above,
Last farewell words of sorrowing and love.
Yet was the debt the Prince was proud to owe