SAD relic of a blessed soul! whose trust We sealed up in this religious dust: O do not thy low exequies suspect, As the cheap arguments of our neglect. 'Twas a commanded duty, that thy grave As little pride as thou thyself should have. Therefore thy covering is an humble stone, And but a word for thy inscription. When those that in the same earth neighbour thee, Have each his chronicle and pedigree: They have their waving pennons and their flags (Of matches and alliance formal brags), When thou (although from ancestors thou came, Old as the Heptarchy, great as thy name,) Sleep'st there inshrin'd in thy admired parts, And hast no heraldry but thy deserts. Yet let not them their prouder marbles boast, For they rest with less honour, though more cost. Go, search the world, and with your mattocks wound The groaning bosom of the patient ground: Dig from the hidden veins of her dark womb All that is rare and precious for a tomb; Yet when much treasure, and more time, is spent, You must grant his the nobler monument, Whose Faith stands o'er him for a hearse, and hath The Resurrection for his epitaph. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE INCHCAPE ROCK by ROBERT SOUTHEY THE GLOW-WORM by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE BROWN GIANT by ALEXANDER ANDERSON THE FIRST AIR-RAID WARNING by EVELYN D. BANGAY VERSES TO A FRIEND by BERNARD BARTON ON THE MARRIAGE OF A BEAUTEOUS YOUNG GENTLEWOMAN WITH AN ANCIENT MAN by FRANCIS BEAUMONT DUNCTON HILL by HILAIRE BELLOC |