And through the master-street the corpse conveyed. The houses to their tops with black were spread, And even the pavements were with mourning hid. The right side of the pall old Egeus kept, And on the left the royal Theseus wept; Each bore a golden bowl, of work divine, With honey filled, and milk, and mixed with ruddy wine. Then Palamon, the kinsman of the slain; And after him appeared the illustrious train. To grace the pomp, came Emily the bright, With covered fire, the funeral pile to light. With high devotion was the service made, And all the rites of pagan honour paid: So lofty was the pile, a Parthian bow, With vigour drawn, must send the shaft below. The bottom was full twenty fathom broad, With crackling straw beneath in due proportion strowed. The fabric seemed a wood of rising green, With sulphur and bitumen cast between, To feed the flames; the trees were unctuous fir, } And mountain-ash, the mother of the spear; } The mourner-yew, and builder-oak, were there; } The beech, the swimming alder, and the plane, } Hard box, and linden of a softer grain, } And laurels, which the gods for conquering chiefs ordain. } How they were ranked shall rest untold by me, With nameless nymphs that lived in every tree; Nor how the dryads, and the woodland train, Disherited, ran howling o'er the plain; Nor how the birds to foreign seats repaired, Or beasts that bolted out, and saw the forest bared; Nor how the ground, now cleared, with ghastly fright, Beheld the sudden sun, a stranger to the light. The straw, as first I said, was laid below; Of chips, and sere-wood, was the second row; The third of greens, and timber newly felled; The fourth high stage the fragrant odours held, And pearls, and precious stones, and rich array; In midst of which, embalmed, the body lay. The service sung, the maid, with mourning eyes, The stubble fired; the smouldering flames arise: This office done, she sunk upon the ground; But what she spoke, recovered from her swoon, I want the wit in moving words to dress; But, by themselves, the tender sex may guess. While the devouring fire was burning fast, Rich jewels in the flame the wealthy cast; And some their shields, and some their lances threw, And gave the[175] warrior's ghost a warrior's due. Full bowls of wine, of honey, milk, and blood, } Were poured upon the pile of burning wood; } And hissing flames receive, and, hungry, lick the food. } Then thrice the mounted squadrons ride around The fire, and Arcite's name they thrice resound. _Hail and farewell!_ they shouted thrice amain, Thrice facing to the left, and thrice they turned again: Still, as they turned, they beat their clattering shields; The women mix their cries, and clamour fills the fields. The warlike wakes continued all the night,