From “The Giaour”
    HE who hath bent him o’er the dead
  Ere the first day of death is fled,
  The first dark day of nothingness,
  The last of danger and distress,
  (Before Decay’s effacing fingers
  Have swept the lines where beauty lingers,)
  And marked the mild angelic air,
  The rapture of repose, that ’s there,
  ...