Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.

If I had thought thou couldst have died, I might not weep for thee; But I forgot, when by thy side, That thou couldst mortal be.

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried.

The whole Earth is the Sepulchre of famous men; and their story is not graven only on Stone over their native earth, but lives on far away, without visible sym…

What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones, The labor of an age in piled stones, Or that his hallowed relics should be hid Under a star-y-pointing pyrami…

Queimou o sagrado templo de Diana, Do subtil Tesifonio fabricado, Herostrato, por ser da gente humana Conhecido no mundo e nomeado: Se tambem com tais obras no…