University of Virginia Library

Here lies a Horse beneath this Stone,
Who living oft hath lain on one:
A noble Steed, who as he went
Proclaimed still his great Descent.
A proudly headed Nag he was,
And hence it often came to pass
That he his Feet not valued,
But still stood much upon his Head.
He was no War-Horse, yet he knew
The Art to squot and lie perdeu.
Yet many a Horse long train'd in Wars
Had never half so many Scars;
There's only this small difference in't,
Theirs were of Steel, and his of Flint.
He was no Hunter, nor did care
To follow Chase of Fox or Hare;
Yet had this property of Hound,
He still was smelling on the Ground.
And tho Dame Nature did not frame
Him for a finder of the Game,
Yet were it lost, none certainly
Would sooner stumble on't than he.
He was no Racer, as some say,
Tho some conclude the other way,
And say for swiftness he might run
Against the Horses of the Sun:
For though full swift Don Phæbus be,
This would be sooner down than he.
For his Opinion, Critick Wit
Does very much in guessing it.
Some say he was Conformist Breed,
He bow'd so low: but some this Steed
Think may for Nonconformist go,
At every thing he stumbles so.
Some think him Presbyter, 'cause he
Brings Rider down to Parity.
But some say no; for by this knack
He still throws Jockey from his back.
Some think him Papist, 'cause so prone
He was to worshipping of Stone.
Some think again, that tripping he
Confutes Infallibility;
But most allow him, which is worse,
No more Religion than a Horse.
Well now he's dead, no wonder is't,
For Mother Earth long since he kist;
And what it was, full well did know
To turn his heels up long ago.
If any to inquire shall please
What caus'd his death, 'twas a Disease
Call'd Epilepse by learned Leech,
But Falling-sickness in plain speech.
And now good Coroner, since he hath
By his own stumbling caus'd his death,
In Kings High-way pray let him rest,
With this Inscription on his Breast.

Despise me not ye passing Steeds,
Nor toss in scorn your lofty Heads:
What mine is now, may be your lot;
For where's the Horse that stumbles not?
But since my Charity does enjoin
To wish you milder fates than mine;
When e'er it is your hap to stumble,
Oh may you trip, but never tumble.