The Roman umbra hovers about the grave, the manes go to Orcus, the spiritus seeks the stars.

In that golden age, somnos dedit umbra salubres, potum quoque lubricus amnis, the tree gave wholesome shade to sleep under, and the clear rivers drink.

Many families, that paid the parish-rates, are now extinct, like the race of Hercules: "Pulvis et umbra sumus."