outh
uo the tomb.
thus wasted are the ranks of men—
youth, health, ay fall;
the ruthless ruin spreads around,
and overwhelms us all.
behold where, round thy narrow house,
the graves unnumber'd lie;
the multitude that sleep below
existed but to die.
some, with the t steps of age,
trod down the darksome way;
and some, in youth's mented prime,
like thee were torn away:
yet these, however hard their fate,
their native earth receives;
amid their weeping friends they died,
and fill their fathers' graves.
from thy lov�
Elegy On “Stella”(3/6)