The Prayer of the Dead

Stop!—Traveller, list to me. If thy step run
To Cypselus and to the Hebrus' shore,
Old Hyllus find and pray him to deplore
Without surcease his unreturning son.

My murdered flesh the ravenous wolves have won;
The rest in this dark thicket lies; and o'er
The Erebus-gloomed banks great shadows pour
Indignant tears. My death's avenged by none.

Depart then; and shouldst thou, when dies the day,
See at the grave's or hillock's foot delay
A black-veiled woman reft of every bloom,

Approach; nor night nor charms need give thee fears;
For 'tis my mother, who, on shadowy tomb,
Clasps a void urn and fills it with her tears.