1044
L. M.
The small and great are there.
Job 3:19.
The glories of our birth and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armor against fate;
Death lays his icy hands on kings.
2 Princes and magistrates must fall,
And in the dust be equal made;
The high and mighty with the small,
Scepter and crown with scythe and spade.
3 The laurel withers on our brow;
Then boast no more your mighty deeds;
Upon death’s purple altar now
See where the victor victim bleeds!
Sherley.