Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/148

108 4.

The Patriot's and the Poet's frame

Must share the common tomb of all:

Their glory will not sleep the same;

That will arise, though Empires fall.

5.

The lustre of a Beauty's eye

Assumes the ghastly stare of death;

The fair, the brave, the good must die,

And sink the yawning grave beneath.

6.

Once more, the speaking eye revives,

Still beaming through the lover's strain;

For Petrarch's Laura still survives:

She died, but ne'er will die again.

7.

The rolling seasons pass away,

And Time, untiring, waves his wing;

Whilst honour's laurels ne'er decay,

But bloom in fresh, unfading spring.

8.

All, all must sleep in grim repose,

Collected in the silent tomb;

The old, the young, with friends and foes,

Fest'ring alike in shrouds, consume.