In the midst of his pomp he is dead and gone.
The pride hath passed from his haughty brow—
Where are his plans and high projects now?
Another lord in his state is crowned,
To level his castles with the ground;
Respect and terror pass reckless on—
His frowns and favours are dead and gone.
Had he wisdom, and wealth, and fame,
Mortal tongue shall forget his name:
Other hands shall disperse his store—