Don Juan 04-102
Canto the Fourth
The very generations of the dead
 Are swept away, and tomb inherits tomb,
Until the memory of an age is fled,
 And, buried, sinks beneath its offspring's doom:
Where are the epitaphs our fathers read?
 Save a few glean'd from the sepulchral gloom
Which once-named myriads nameless lie beneath,
And lose their own in universal death.

George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron (1788-1824)