Of being unmolested and alone. And only mock whom they were meant to honour. Above the vulgar born, to rot in state. But see! the well-plum'd hearse comes nodding on, Stately and slow; and properly attended By the whole sable tribe, that painful watch The sick man's door, and live upon the dead, By letting out their persors by the hour, To mimic sorrow where the heart's not sad. How rich the trappings! now they're all unfurl'd, And glittering in the sun; triumphant entries Of conquerors, and coronation pomps, In glory scarce exceed. Great gluts of people Retard th' unwieldy show; whilst from the case ments And houses' tops, ranks behind ranks, close wedg'd, Hang bellying o'er. But tell us, why this waste, Why this ado in earthing up a carcass That's fall'n into disgrace, and in the nostril Proud lineage, now how little thou appear'st Pursues thee ev'n to death; nor there stops short: Absurd to think to over-reach the Grave, The tapering pyramid, th' Ægyptian's pride, Shatter'd with age, and furrow'd o'er with years, Here all the mighty troublers of the earth, Who swam to sovʼreign rule thro' seas of blood; Th' oppressive, sturdy, man-destroying villains, Who ravag'd kingdoms, and laid empires waste, And, in a cruel wantonness of power, Thinn'd states of half their people, and gave up Who fix'd his iron talons on the poor, (As if a slave was not a shred of nature, Of the same common nature with his lord;) Now tame and humble, like a child that's whipp'd, Shakes hands with dust, and calls the worm his kinsman! Nor pleads his rank and birth-right. Under ground When self-esteem, or other's adulation, [tery, Would cunningly persuade us we are something Beauty-thou pretty plaything, dear deceit! That steals so softly o'er the stripling's heart, And gives it a new pulse unknown before, The Grave discredits thee: thy charms expung'd, Thy roses faded, and thy lilies soil'd, What hast thou more to boast of? Will thy lovers Flock round thee now, to gaze and do thee homage? Methinks I see thee with thy head low laid, Whilst surfeited upon thy damask cheek T' improve those charms, and keep them in repair, Look how the fair-one weeps! the conscious tears Strength, too-thou surly and less gentle boast Of those that loud laugh at the village ring; A fit of common sickness pulls thee down With greater ease than e'er thou didst the stripling That rashly dar'd thee to th' unequal fight. What groan was that I heard? Deep groan, indeed! With anguish heavy laden. Let me trace it.— From yonder bed it comes, where the strong man, By stronger arm belabour'd, gasps for breath Like a hard-hunted beast. How his great heart Beats thick! his roomy breast by far too scant To give the lungs full play. What now avail The strong-built, sinewy limbs, and well-spread shoulders! |