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March'd armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread,
And shook the Pyramids with fear and wonder,
If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed,
The nature of thy private life unfold :—
A heart has throbb'd beneath that leathern breast,
And tears adown that dusky cheek have rolled :— Have children climb'd and kissed that face? What was thy name and station, age and race?
Statue of flesh-immortal of the dead!
Why should this worthless tegument endure,
In living virtue; that when both must sever,