On Something That Walks Somewhere

At court I met it, in clothes brave enough   To be a courtier, and looks grave

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