The good alone are fearless — they alone
Firm and collected in their virtue, brave
The wreck of worlds, and look unshrinking down
On the dread yawnings of the rav'nous grave:
Thrice happy! who the blameless road along
Of honest praise hath reach'd the vale of death;
Around him, like ministrant cherubs, throng
His better actions; to the parting breath
Singing their blessed requiems: he the while
Gently reposing on some friendly breast,
Breathes out his benizons; then with a smile
Of soft complacence, lays him down to rest,
Calm as the slumbering infant: from the goal
Free and unbounded flies the disembodied soul.