 | A Margarite of America |  |
Margaritaes Epitaph.
A blessed soule from earthly prison losed,
Ye happie heuens had faith to you conuaide,
The earthly holde within this tombe inclosed,
White Marble stones within your wombe is laide:
The fame of her that soule and bodie lost,
Suruiues from th'ile to the Biactrian coast.
Ye happie heuens had faith to you conuaide,
The earthly holde within this tombe inclosed,
White Marble stones within your wombe is laide:
The fame of her that soule and bodie lost,
Suruiues from th'ile to the Biactrian coast.
A precious pearle in name, a pearle in nature,
Too kinde in loue vnto too fierce a foe,
By him she lou'd, shee dide, O cursed creature,
To quite true faith with furious murther so!
But vaine are teares for those whom death hath slaine,
And sweete is fame that makes dead liue againe.
Too kinde in loue vnto too fierce a foe,
By him she lou'd, shee dide, O cursed creature,
To quite true faith with furious murther so!
But vaine are teares for those whom death hath slaine,
And sweete is fame that makes dead liue againe.
| A Margarite of America | |