Down to the unfathom'd realms,
Where hidden fountains flow,
Alone, his silent couch to find,
The child of earth must go.
For him no funeral bell
May weeping friends convene,
Nor dust, to kindred dust be laid
Within the church-yard green.
Farewell! one heavy plunge!
One cleft in ocean's floor!
And then the deaf and sullen surge
Sweeps on, and all is o'er.
We give thee earnest charge,
Oh sad, and solemn deep,
Safe in thy cold and strong embrace
This precious form to keep;
Till at the trumpet's sound,
Which fills the world with dread,
Thy caverns, and the graves of earth
Shall render up their dead:
Then clothed in glorious light,
May this our friend arise,
And change thy dark, imprisoning cell,
For freedom in the skies.