Chessmen in the Bag

“As chessmen are all thrown mto the bag together, so in the grave there is no distinction; skulls wear no wreaths and corpses carry 7io tnarks of honour.” The bishop and the knight tumble into the box with the pawns, and the king and the queen fare no better. Death is a terrible leveller. It is a pity that some men carry their heads so high above their fellows all the day, for they will have to sleep at night in the same bed of clay with those whom they despise. With uncouth verse the poet tells the like story: —

“Beauty, and strength, and wit, and wealth, and power.
Have their short flourishing hour;
And love to see themselves and smile,
And joy in their pre-eminence awhile.
Ev’n so in the same land,
Poor weeds, rich corn, gay flowers together stand:
Alas! death mows down all with an impartial hand.’