How oft on Earth he’s laid him low;
But still this brings him no remorce,
He feels the hot blood through him course,
And knows that in his much-loved game,
He’s found both pleasure, health, and fame.
Pastime, September 7, 1883.
An Epitaph.
On the admirable Dramatic Poet, William Shakespeare.
What needs my Shakespeare for his honour’d bones,
The labour of an age in pilèd stones?