Yet shall thy grave with rising flow'rs be dressed.
And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast;
There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow,
There the first roses of the year shall blow.
_Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady_. A. POPE.
And from his ashes may be made
The violet of his native land.
_In Memoriam, XVIII_. A. TENNYSON.
Sweets to the sweet: farewell,
I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife:
I thought thy bride-bed to have decked, sweet maid,
And not t' have strewed thy grave.
_Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.
How loved, how honored once, avails thee not,
To whom related, or by whom begot;
A heap of dust alone remains of thee;
'T is all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
_Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady_. A. POPE.
Lay her i' the earth;
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
May violets spring!
_Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.
Brave Percy, fare thee well!
Ill-weaned ambition, how much art thou shrunk:
When that this body did contain a spirit,
A kingdom for it was too small a bound;
But now, two paces of the vilest earth
Is room enough.
_King Henry VI., Pt. I. Act v. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.
Oft let me range the gloomy aisles alone,
Sad luxury! to vulgar minds unknown,
Along the walls where speaking marbles show
What worthies form the hallowed mould below;
Proud names, who once the reins of empire held,
In arms who triumphed, or in arts excelled;
Chiefs, graced with scars, and prodigal of blood;
Stern patriots, who for sacred freedom stood;
Just men, by whom impartial laws were given;
And saints, who taught and led the way to heaven.
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