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You that
shall live awhile, before
Old time tyrs, and is no
more:
When that this ambitious stone
Stoopes low
as what it tramples on:
Know that in that age, when
sinne
Gave the world law, and governd Queene,
A
virgin liv'd, that still put on
White thoughts,
though out of fashion:
That trac't the stars, 'spite
of report,
And durst be good, though chidden for't:
Of such a soule that infant Heav'n
Repented what it
thus had giv'n:
For finding equall happy man,
Th'
impatient pow'rs snatch it agen.
Thus, chaste as th'
ayre whither shee's fled,
She, making her celestiall
bed
In her warme alablaster, lay
As cold is in
this house of clay:
Nor were the rooms unfit to feast
Or circumscribe this angel-guest;
The radiant gemme
was brightly set
In as divine a carkanet;
Of which
the clearer was not knowne,
Her minde or her
complexion.
Such an everlasting grace,
Such a
beatifick face,
Incloysters here this narrow floore,
That possest all hearts before.
Blest and
bewayl'd in death and birth!
The smiles and teares of
heav'n and earth!
Virgins at each step are afeard,
Filmer is shot by which they steer'd,
Their star
extinct, their beauty dead,
That the yong world to
honour led;
But see! the rapid spheres stand still,
And tune themselves unto her will.
Thus, although
this marble must,
As all things, crumble into dust,
And though you finde this faire-built tombe
Ashes, as
what lyes in its wombe:
Yet her saint-like name shall
shine
A living glory to this shrine,
And her
eternall fame be read,
When all but VERY VERTUE'S
DEAD.
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