 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
98
EPITAPH ON Sir JOHN EDGAR
Not far from hence, lies Honest Dick;
Who dy'd Alive, was buried Quick.
No Turf he brought, no Stone he rear'd;
For on him the whole Duke lies hard.
Who dy'd Alive, was buried Quick.
No Turf he brought, no Stone he rear'd;
For on him the whole Duke lies hard.
Stop, Traveller, or lightly bound
Over th' Inchanted, Fairy Ground;
Nor with unhallow'd, witty Lashes
Disturb the angry Hero's Ashes:
Who as he liv'd, just so he dy'd,
Free from Fear, and full of Pride;
And off he went, in his own Strain,
Swearing, he'd soon return again.
Over th' Inchanted, Fairy Ground;
Nor with unhallow'd, witty Lashes
Disturb the angry Hero's Ashes:
Who as he liv'd, just so he dy'd,
Free from Fear, and full of Pride;
And off he went, in his own Strain,
Swearing, he'd soon return again.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |