One destin'd period men in common have,
The great, the base, the coward, and the brave,
All food alike for worms, companions in the grave.
LANSDOWNE: _On Death._
The grave, dread thing!
Men shiver when thou 'rt named: Nature appall'd,
Shakes off her wonted firmness.
BLAIR: _The Grave,_ Line 9.
Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down,
Where a green grassy turf is all I crave,
With here and there a violet bestrewn,
Fast by a brook or fountain's murmuring wave;
And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave!
BEATTIE: _The Minstrel,_ Bk. ii., St. 17.