The Plague of Athens, which hapned in the second year of the Peloponnesian Warre · Thomas Sprat
XXX.
The woods gave fun’ral piles no more, The dead the very fire devour, And that almighty Conqueror over-power. The noble and the common dust Into each others graves are thrust, No place is sacred, and no tomb, ’Tis now a priviledge to consume; Their ashes no distinction had; Too truly all by death are equal made. The Ghosts of those great Heroes that had fled From _Athens_ long since banished, Now o’re the City hovered; Their anger yielded to their love, They left th’ immortal joyes above; So much their _Athens_ danger did them move, They came to pity and to aid, But now alas! were quite dismay’d, When they beheld the marbles open lay’d, And poor mens bones the noble Urns invade: Back to the blessed seats they went, And now did thank their banishment, By which they were to die in forreign Countries sent.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.