Southey's touching stanzas-- "My days among the dead are passed," though the ideas embodied are no more novel than Crabbe's, are worth scores of such lines as these-- "With awe, around these silent walks I tread; These are the lasting mansions of the dead: 'The dead!' methinks a thousand tongues reply; 'These are the tombs of such as cannot die! Crowned with eternal fame, they sit sublime, And laugh at all the little strife of Time'".