IV.

The Night hath closed on Helle's stream, Nor yet hath risen on Ida's hill That Moon, which shone on his high theme: No warrior chides her peaceful beam, But conscious shepherds bless it still. Their flocks are grazing on the Mound Of him who felt the Dardan's arrow: That mighty heap of gathered ground Which Ammon's son ran proudly round,[154] By nations raised, by monarchs crowned, 530 Is now a lone and nameless barrow! Within--thy dwelling-place how narrow![155] Without--can only strangers breathe The name of him that _was_ beneath: Dust long outlasts the storied stone; But Thou--thy very dust is gone!