On The Tombs In Westminster Abbey

MORTALITY, behold and fear! What a change of flesh is here! Think how many royal bones Sleep within these heaps of stones; Here they lie, had realms and lands, Who now want strength to stir their hands; Where from their pulpits sealed with dust They preach, ‘In greatness is no trust.’ Here’s an acre sown indeed With the richest royallest seed That the earth did e’er suck in 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, Dropt from the ruined sides of kings: Here’s a world of pomp and state Buried in dust, once dead by fate.

SIR FRANCIS KYNASTON 1587–1642