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Forgetfully; uncalled upon to pay
The common penalties of mortal life.
Sickness, or accident, or grief, or pain
On these and other kindred thoughts intent,
In silence by my Comrade's side I lay,
He also silent: when from out the heart
Of that profound Abyss a solemn Voice,
Or several Voices in one solemn sound,
Was heard—ascending: mournful, deep, and slow
The cadence, as of Psalms—a funeral dirge!
We listened, looking down towards the Hut,
But seeing no One: meanwhile from below
The strain continued, spiritual as before;
And now distinctly could I recognize
These words;—"Shall in the Grave thy love be known,
In Death thy faithfulness?"—"God rest his Soul,"
The Wanderer cried, abruptly breaking silence,
"He is departed, and finds peace at last!"
This scarcely spoken, and those holy strains
Not ceasing, forth appeared in view a band
Of rustic Persons, from behind the hut
