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FRANCIS BEAUMONT

1586-1616

242                            On the Tombs in Westminster Abbey

MORTALITY, behold and fear!
What a change of flesh is here!
Think how many royal bones
Sleep within this heap of stones:
Here they lie had realms and lands,
Who now want strength to stir their hands:
Where from their pulpits seald with dust
They preach, In greatness is no trust.
Heres an acre sown indeed
With the richest, royallst seed
That the earth did eer 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 ruind sides of kings;
Heres a world of pomp and state,
Buried in dust, once dead by fate.

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