On Something, That Walks Somewhere

At court I met it, in clothes brave enough

  To be a courtier, and looks grave enough

To seem a statesman: as I near it came,

  It made me a great face. I asked the name.

"A lord," it cried, "buried in flesh and blood,

  And such from whom let no man hope least good,

For I will do none; and as little ill,

  For I will dare none." Good lord, walk dead still.

Contextual notes:L1 - 'brave' - fine