Buried together wi' thee lieth the whole of our house:Perisht along wi' thyself forthright all joys we enjoyèd,Douce joys fed by thy love during the term of our days;Whom now art tombed so far nor 'mid familiar pavestonesNor wi' thine ashes stored near to thy kith and thy kin,But in that Troy obscene, that Troy of ill-omen, entombèdHolds thee, an alien earth-buried in uttermost bourne.Thither in haste so hot ('tis said) from allwhere the Youth-hoodGrecian, farèd in hosts forth of their hearths and their homes,Lest with a stolen punk with fullest of pleasure should ParisFairly at leisure and ease sleep in the pacific bed.Such was the hapless chance, most beautiful Laodamia,Tare fro' thee dearer than life, dearer than spirit itself,Him, that husband, whose love in so mighty a whirlpool of passionWhelmed thee absorbed and plunged deep in its gulfy abyss,E'en as the Grecians tell hard by Phenéus of CylléneDrained was the marish and dried, forming the fattest of soils,Whenas in days long done to delve through marrow of mountainsDaréd, falsing his sire, Amphtryóniades;What time sure of his shafts he smote Stymphalian monsters