While still she marks the glazing eye, and soothes

The stiffening limbs and gazes on the face,

In nameless dread, not sorrow, and in awe

Of death approaching: and with mind distraught

Clings to the dying in a last embrace.

The matrons laid aside their wonted garb:

Crowds filled the temples -- on the unpitying stones

Some dashed their bosoms; others bathed with tears

(Editor：world)