28. 'The good and mighty of departed ages Are in their graves, the innocent and free, Heroes, and Poets, and prevailing Sages, Who leave the vesture of their majesty _3715 To adorn and clothe this naked world;--and we Are like to them--such perish, but they leave All hope, or love, or truth, or liberty, Whose forms their mighty spirits could conceive, To be a rule and law to ages that survive. _3720 29. 'So be the turf heaped over our remains Even in our happy youth, and that strange lot, Whate'er it be, when in these mingling veins The blood is still, be ours; let sense and thought Pass from our being, or be numbered not _3725 Among the things that are; let those who come Behind, for whom our steadfast will has bought A calm inheritance, a glorious doom, Insult with careless tread, our undivided tomb. 30. 'Our many thoughts and deeds, our life and love, _3730 Our happiness, and all that we have been, Immortally must live, and burn and move, When we shall be no more;--the world has seen A type of peace; and--as some most serene And lovely spot to a poor maniac's eye, _3735 After long years, some sweet and moving scene Of youthful hope, returning suddenly, Quells his long madness--thus man shall remember thee. 31. 'And Calumny meanwhile shall feed on us, As worms devour the dead, and near the throne _3740 And at the altar, most accepted thus Shall sneers and curses be;--what we have done None shall dare vouch, though it be truly known; That record shall remain, when they must pass Who built their pride on its oblivion; _3745 And fame, in human hope which sculptured was, Survive the perished scrolls of unenduring brass. 32. 'The while we two, beloved, must depart, And Sense and Reason, those enchanters fair, Whose wand of power is hope, would bid the heart _3750 That gazed beyond the wormy grave despair: These eyes, these lips, this blood, seems darkly there To fade in hideous ruin; no calm sleep Peopling with golden dreams the stagnant air, Seems our obscure and rotting eyes to steep _3755 In joy;--but senseless death--a ruin dark and deep! 33. 'These are blind fancies--reason cannot know What sense can neither feel, nor thought conceive; There is delusion in the world--and woe, And fear, and pain--we know not whence we live, _3760 Or why, or how, or what mute Power may give Their being to each plant, and star, and beast, Or even these thoughts.--Come near me! I do weave A chain I cannot break--I am possessed With thoughts too swift and strong for one lone human breast. _3765