XII |
|
XII
Weigh`d in the balance, hero dust
Is vile as vulgar clay;
Thy scales, Mortality! are just
To all that pass away:
But yet methought the living great
Some higher sparks should animate,
To dazzle and dismay:
Nor deem`d Contempt could thus make mirth
Of these, the Conquerors of the earth.
|
