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XVII. EPITAPH OF THE WERY EXCELLENT, VERTUOUSE AND TRULIE HONOURED LADY, THE LADY ARNESTOUN.

Peace! wantone Muse, Leave now thy lovelie layes.
Here, here a sadder subject thou doth fynd.
Hence Helicon, hence Phoebus blooming bayes,
The sorowing Cypres now thy brows must bynd,
Ane Tragick Tokin of a mourning mynd,
Quhich fain wold wtter, (if it could for smairt,)
Thir latest dutyes of a dulefull hert.
Quhat ey so cruell must no melt in teares?
Qt flintie hert from sorow can refrain?
Qt ruthles care, this tragedy qch heares,
Can inward anguish smother and restrain?
O! sence wnsensible qch feeles no pain,
And, pittiles, doth not wt greif regrait
This ruefull object and wntymely fait.
Death hath subdued Wit, Vertue, Beutie braue,
By conquering hir in qm those all remain'd.
Nane humbler, meiker, modester, more graue,
Mor wyse, more worthy, natour ewer framed.
Few matches earth hath any quhair retain'd
So prudent, patient, pittifull, but pryde.
More courtesse, comelie creator newer dyed.

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Then nothing strange thot Joue chus'd such a mait,
This age wnworthy such a rair ingyne,
And chang't this mortal's mutable estate,
For ay in im̄ortality to schyne;
Quho glorefied amidst the schads dewyne,
In place of wordlie transitorie toyes
Reaps now all plentie of Celestiall joyes.

Finis,

1616.