Chapter 278 of 372 · 62 words · ~1 min read

XI.

So mix his body with the dust! It might Return to what it _must_ far sooner, were The natural compound left alone to fight Its way back into earth, and fire, and air; But the unnatural balsams merely blight What Nature made him at his birth, as bare As the mere million's base unmummied clay-- Yet all his spices but prolong decay.[507]