That is a lonely grief that must go dry

About the graves where the beloved lie,

And knows too much to doubt if death ends all

[5]

Pleasure in strength of limb, joy musical,

Mother-love, maiden-love, which never more

Must the dead look for on the further shore

Of Acheron, and past the willow-wood

Of Proserpine!

But when he understood,

Achilles, that his end was near at hand,

Darkling he heard the news, and on the strand

Beyond the ships he stood awhile, then cried

The Sea-God that high-hearted and clear-eyed

He might go down; and this for utmost grace

He asked, that not by battle might his face

Be marred, nor fighting might some Dardan best

Him who had conquered ever. For the rest,

Fate, which had given, might take, as fate should be.

So prayed he, and Poseidon out of the sea,

 Prev. P 8/259 next