But half-paid to a friend in weal and woe,
Till rose a sepulchre, stately and high,
For th’ honoured dust enshrined therein to lie.
Topped by oar and horn, sword, and spear, and shield,
To proclaim the champion of sea and field,
It crowns the airy Cape that boasts the name,
And through the ages seals a Trojan’s fame.
So, drowned Misenus need not wander more
Between two worlds on Styx’s groaning shore,
Dragging soulless flesh—choke in a foul fen,