There stands Bardino, weeping o'er the bier, Who under Age's heavy burden bows;
Who, in the tears on shipboard shed whilere.
Might well have wept away his eyes and brows:
Upbraiding skies and stars, the cavalier, Like lion, in whose veins a fever glows, Roars as he wreathes his wayward hands within His hoary hair, and rends his wrinkled skin.
