Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/326

 Tempt me with such affrights no more, Lest what I made I uncreate; Let fools thy mystic form adore, I know thee in thy mortal state. Wise poets, that wrapt Truth in tales, Knew her themselves through all her veils.

294. Epitaph

On the Lady Mary Villiers

The Lady Mary Villiers lies Under this stone; with weeping eyes The parents that first gave her birth, And their sad friends, laid her in earth. If any of them, Reader, were Known unto thee, shed a tear; Or if thyself possess a gem As dear to thee, as this to them, Though a stranger to this place, Bewail in theirs thine own hard case: For thou perhaps at thy return May'st find thy Darling in an urn.

295. Another

This little vault, this narrow room, Of Love and Beauty is the tomb; The dawning beam, that 'gan to clear Our clouded sky, lies darkened here, For ever set to us: by Death Sent to enflame the World Beneath, 'Twas but a bud, yet did contain More sweetness than shall spring again;