University of Virginia Library

An Epitaph on my Lord Mayors Horse.

Here in this Oyle-Tub (Reader stand aloofe)
Lies Great Bucephalus, beware his hoofe;
Who out of a good nature needs would die,
Meerly to keep his Master company.
Bay was his name, some call'd him, Rosemary,
For his victorious feats, and Chivalry:
But if he had no name, the Bulks and Shambles
Would speak him famous for his Christmasse Gambolls:
When from an Amble to a Trot anon
Bravely he trod down Superstition.
For which rare service 'tis decreed he lie
Pickled and Powder'd for Posterity.
And live by this Inscription (somewhat course)
Down went the Popish Rites, Grammercy Horse.