’Tis brandish’d still; nor shall the present year
Be more tenacious of her human leaf, 62
Or spread of feeble life a thinner fall.
But needless monuments to wake the thought;
Life’s gayest scenes speak man’s mortality;
Though in a style more florid, full as plain,
As mausoleums, pyramids, and tombs.
What are our noblest ornaments, but deaths
Turn’d flatterers of life, in paint, or marble,
The well-stain’d canvas, or the featured stone? 70