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72 Through the pomp of fratricides: Those unburied bones around There is many a mournful sound; There is no lament for him, Like a sunless vapour, dim, Who once clothed with life and thought What now moves nor murmurs not.

Aye, many flowering islands lie In the waters of wide Agony: To such a one this morn was led, My bark by soft winds piloted: 'Mid the mountains Euganean I stood listening to the paean, With which the legioned rooks did hail The sun's uprise majestical; Gathering round with wings all hoar,. Thro' the dewy mist they soar Like grey shades, till th' eastern heaven Bursts, and then, as clouds of even, Flecked with fire and azure, lie In the unfathomable sky,