Till Death, that mighty hunter, earths them all.
Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour?
What though we wade in wealth, or soar in fame?
Earth’s highest station ends in “Here he lies:”
And “Dust to dust” concludes her noblest song. 100
If this song lives, posterity shall know
One, though in Britain born, with courtiers bred,
Who thought even gold might come a day too late;
Nor on his subtle death-bed plann’d his scheme
For future vacancies in Church or State;