Second
59
Here’s an acre sown indeed
With the richest royallest seed
That the earth did e’er suck in
Since the first man died for sin:
Here the bones of birth have cried
‘Though gods they were, as men they died!’
Here are sands, ignoble things,
Dropt from the ruin’d sides of kings:
Here’s a world of pomp and state
Buried in dust, once dead by fate.
F. Beaumont
With the richest royallest seed
That the earth did e’er suck in
Since the first man died for sin:
Here the bones of birth have cried
‘Though gods they were, as men they died!’
Here are sands, ignoble things,
Dropt from the ruin’d sides of kings:
Here’s a world of pomp and state
Buried in dust, once dead by fate.
F. Beaumont
lxviii
THE LAST CONQUEROR
Victorious men of earth, no more
Proclaim how wide your empires are;
Though you bind-in every shore
And your triumphs reach as far
As night or day,
Yet you, proud monarchs, must obey
And mingle with forgotten ashes, when
Death calls ye to the crowd of common men.
Proclaim how wide your empires are;
Though you bind-in every shore
And your triumphs reach as far
As night or day,
Yet you, proud monarchs, must obey
And mingle with forgotten ashes, when
Death calls ye to the crowd of common men.
Devouring Famine, Plague, and War,
Each able to undo mankind,
Death’s servile emissaries are;
Nor to these alone confined,
He hath at will
More quaint and subtle ways to kill;
A smile or kiss, as he will use the art,
Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart.
J. Shirley
Each able to undo mankind,
Death’s servile emissaries are;
Nor to these alone confined,
He hath at will
More quaint and subtle ways to kill;
A smile or kiss, as he will use the art,
Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart.
J. Shirley
lxix
DEATH THE LEVELLER
The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
