ABSTRACT
Our virtue is the only friend That follows us in death: All other ties and friendships end With our departing breath. Nor father, mother, wife, nor son, Beside us then can stay, Nor kinsfolk; virtue is the one Companion of our way. Alone each creature sees the light, Alone the world he leaves; Alone of actions wrong or right The recompense receives. Like log or clod, beneath the sad Their lifeless kinsmen laid, His friends turn round and quit the ground; But virtue speeds the dead. Be then a hoard of virtue stored, To help in day of doom. By virtue sped, we cross the dread, Immeasurable, gloom.
