Three days after his death the dramatist was buried in that part of Westminster Abbey which, since Spenser was laid there to the left of Chaucer's empty grave, had come to be regarded as the Poets' Corner. Beaumont lies to the right of Chaucer's gray marble on the east side of the South Transept in front of St. Benedict's chapel. In what honour he was held we gather from the consideration that, of poets, only Chaucer and Spenser had preceded him to a resting place in the Abbey; and that of his contemporaries, only four writers of verse followed him: his brother, Sir John, who died some eleven years later, and lies beside him; his old friend, Michael Drayton, in 1631; Hugh Holland, in 1633; and that friend of all four, Ben Jonson, in 1637. On the "learned" or "historical" side of the transept, across the way from the poets, lie also only three of Beaumont's generation: Casaubon the philologist, Hakluyt the voyager, and Ben Jonson's master and benefactor--"most reverend head, to whom I owe All that I am in acts, all that I know,"--Camden the antiquary. "In the poetical quarter," writes Addison, a hundred years later, "I found there were poets who had no monuments, and monuments which had no poets." Of the former category is Beaumont; of the latter, the alabaster bust of Drayton whose body lies under the north wall of the nave, and the monument to Jonson, who, having no one rich enough to "lay out funeral charges upon him," stands, in accordance with his own desire, on his "eighteen inches of square ground" under a paving-stone in the north aisle of the nave,--and the figure of their associate, Shakespeare, who, though there was much talk of transporting his body from Stratford in the year of his death and Beaumont's, did not, even in "preposterous" effigy, join his compeers of the Poets' Corner till more than a century had elapsed. Upon Beaumont's grave Dryden's lofty pile encroaches. Above the grave rises the bust of Longfellow; and not far from Beaumont, Tennyson and Browning were lately laid to rest. The verses, _On the Tombs in Westminster_, attributed to our poet-dramatist, are of doubtful authorship, but in diction and turn of thought they are paralleled by more than one of the poems which we have found to be his:-- Mortality, behold, and feare, What a change of flesh is here! Thinke how many royall bones Sleep within these heap of stones: Here they lye, had realmes and lands, Who now want strength to stir their hands; Where from their pulpits, seal'd with dust, They preach "In greatnesse is not trust." Here's an acre sown, indeed, With the richest, royall'st seed That the earth did e're suck in Since the first man dy'd for sin: Here the bones of birth have cry'd, "Though gods they were, as men they dy'd"; Here are sands, ignoble things, Dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings. Here's a world of pomp and state Buried in dust, once dead by fate.