[MS VIII, 80v (p. 105)]

Villa Pliniana
I love to hear the names of those
Who long ago have past away,
Though now those names be claimed by clay
And who would stand where they repose 
And look upon their dust, and say,
That this was Trajan. and below
This foot of mine, lies cold and low,
Earth, which compounded long ago
What held the soul of Cesar. 
How peaceful is the turbulence
Of spirits, whose high deeds long hence
Shall still be told as now,
How strange those mighty powers that hurled
Wide change and terror oer the world. 
Should pass away we know not how
That one would wonder how a thing
So temporary, perishing
Should dare such deeds, or work such change
the texture of the world. 
There have been many mighty,
And many more renowned,
The ignoble and the glorious,
Are underneath the ground