A friend has been lying dead, with no grave—
To the entire Fleet a reproach, a shame.
First give his relics tomb, and rites, they claim.
So, may’st thou with clean hands thy way pursue;
And realms forbid shall open to thy view.”
A tangled maze! With a past bleak and bare,
A future of dim hopes, and certain care;—
A corse blurring the foreground! And of whom?
Then, as Æneas paced the shore in gloom,
Achates with him, see! a Body there!