These Ghosts rejected, are the unhappy Crew Depriv’d of Sepulchers and Funeral due. The Boat-Man, _Charon_; those the buried Host, He Ferries over to the farther Coast. Nor dares his Transport Vessel cross the Waves With such whose Bones are not compos’d in Graves. A Hundred Years they wander on the Shore, At length, their Pennance done, are wafted o’er. The _Trojan_ Chief his forward Pace repress’d, Revolving Anxious Thoughts within his Breast; He saw his Friends, who whelm’d beneath the Waves, Their Funeral Honours claim’d, and ask’d their quiet Graves. _Dryden._ Some again are induc’d perhaps to think the care of Burial needless, because there is no Sense in a Dead Body, as the Proverb has it, _Mortui non dolent_; and others reject it for this Reason, _Quia sentienti Onus est Terra, nihil sentienti, supervacaneum_. _For the Earth’s a Burthen to him that is sensible of it, but none to him that is not._ [Sidenote: Others have Despis’d it.] _Diogenes_ the Cynic Philosopher, among the rest of his Whimsies, despis’d Sepulture, and when he was told he must thereby become a Prey to the Beasts and Birds, he gave them this jocose Advice, _Si id metues, ponite juxta me Bacillum, quo abigam eos_. _If you fear that, place my Staff by me that I may drive them away._ _Quid poteris nihil sentiens?_ _What can you do if you are sensible of nothing?_ Reply’d his Friend. To which he answer’d, _Quid igitur Ferarum laniatus oberit nihil sentienti?_ _If I am not sensible, how can their Teeth affect me?_ At other times he was wont to say on the like Occasion, _Si Canes meum lacerabunt Cadaver, Hyrcanorum nactus fuero Sepulturam, Si Vultures, Iberiorum; quod si nullum Animal accederet, ipsum Tempus: Pulcherimam fore Sepulturam, Corpore pretiosissimis Rebus, Sole, inquam & Imbribus absumpto_. _If the Dogs eat my Carcass, I shall have the Sepulture of the_ Hyrcanians, _if Vultures, of the_ Iberians; _but if no Animal come near me, then shall I be consum’d by Time, and, What a fine sort of Burial must that needs be, to have my Body reduc’d to Dust by two of the most precious Things in Nature, the Sun and Showers?_ Likewise _Demonactes_ being told, if he were flung out unbury’d, as he desir’d, the Dogs would tear him to pieces, he wittily answer’d, _Quid incommodi, si mortuus alicui sim usui?_ _What hurt can it do me, if after I am Dead I do somebody Good?_ [Sidenote: In what Sense the _Philosophers_ slighted it.]