Since the first man died for sin.
Here the bones of birth have cried,
Though Gods they were, as men they died.
Here are sands, ignoble things,
Dropp’d from the ruin’d sides of kings.
Here’s a world of pomp and state
Buried in dust, once dead by fate.’
[40]. He and his wife both died from fright, occasioned by the great fire of London in 1665, and lie buried in St. Giles’s church-yard.
[41]. The difference in the tone of moral sentiment is the greatest of all others.
Edinburgh: Printed by T. and A. Constable