Canto LXXVIII

If any vague desire should rise,

      That holy Death ere Arthur died

      Had moved me kindly from his side,

And dropt the dust on tearless eyes;

Then fancy shapes, as fancy can,

      The grief my loss in him had wrought,

      A grief as deep as life or thought,

But stay'd in peace with God and man.

I make a picture in the brain;

      I hear the sentence that he speaks;

      He bears the burthen of the weeks,

But turns his burthen into gain.

His credit thus shall set me free;

      And, influence-rich to soothe and save,

      Unused example from the grave,

Reach out dead hands to comfort me.