Solitude (II) part 3

    Turning there the nettles bye
    Where the grave stone meets ones eye
    Soon full soon to read & see
    That all below is vanity
    & man to me a gauling thing
    Ownd creations lord & king
    A minutes length a zephers breath
    Sport of fate & prey of death
    Neath the power of death the same

    As wants low wormlings are to him
    Tyrant to day to morrow gone
    All 'stinguished only by a stone
    That feign woud have the eye to know
    Prides better dust is laid below