And on the palace-floor a lifeless corse She lay.
Thus, all in vain exhorted and reproved,
She perished; and, as for a wilful crime,
By the just Gods whom no weak pity moved,
Was doomed to wear out her appointed time,
Apart from happy Ghosts, that gather flowers[12]
Of blissful quiet 'mid unfading bowers.
—Yet tears to human suffering are due;
And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown