"So works the man of just renown, On men when centuries have flown; For what a good man would attain, The narrow bounds of life restrain; And this the balm of Genius gives: Man dies, but after death he lives." On a marble pedestal reposes the effigy of Wykeham, once painted in gaudy colors,--perfect yet in every line of his benignant countenance, of his stole and his canonical robe. Beneath this monument has rested his revered dust for nearly five hundred years. Forty-three years after the burial of the great bishop, on the 13th of April, 1447, the solemn stillness was disturbed by a procession to deposit the remains of Henry of Beaufort, the successor of Wykeham in 1404, afterward made cardinal of St. Eusebius, by Martin V. This is he of whom Shakespeare said, "He died and made no sign." How unlike John Knox, of whom Carlyle says: "When he lay a-dying it was asked of him, 'Hast thou hope?' He spake nothing, but raised his finger and pointed upward, and so he died." Beaufort was a remarkable man. He was president of the court when Joan of Arc was on trial; by his countenance and aid she was sentenced to death. What influence this dust once had on kings! Out of Beaufort's vast cathedral revenues, $150,000 was advanced to his nephew, Henry V. To the infant Henry VI., who was brought up under his immediate care, he advanced $50,000. But we must not play the historian now, and only call attention to the fact that, in the play of Henry VI., Shakespeare represents him as dying in great remorse. As a redeeming quality be it said, that when spirit and body must part companionship, the good angel of charity took possession of him, and his great property went to works of charity. The hospital of St. Cross speaks for him more eloquently than monumental stone, or the chantry where he ministered in the great cathedral itself. Here too is kingly dust, that of William II., son of the Conqueror,--William Rufus, as they called him, because of his red hair. Shot in the New Forest in the year 1100, by Walter Tyrrel, Lord of Poix, he died instantly, at the age of forty-four, and for 783 years his royal body has been mouldering here. But he is only one of many, for over each side range of the choir stalls are oak chests,--containing what? Records of the church or important papers of State? Jewels of deceased bishops, or their robes? No; but the mortal remains of Wessex and Saxon kings. Each chest is perhaps three feet long, eighteen inches square, and bears on its side the name of its occupant. These bones were once buried in the crypt, between the years 1126 and 1171, but were put into these chests by order of Bishop De Blow. Three hundred and eighty-four parishes pay their homage to the Bishop of Winchester. No See in all England is as rich in its revenues as this.