Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade,
Death came with friendly care;
The opening bud to Heaven read more

Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade,
Death came with friendly care;
The opening bud to Heaven conveyed,
And bade it blossom there.

And be the Spartan's epitaph on me--
"Sparta hath many a worthier son than he."

And be the Spartan's epitaph on me--
"Sparta hath many a worthier son than he."

Farewell, vain world, I've had enough of thee,
And Valies't not what thou Can'st say of me;
read more

Farewell, vain world, I've had enough of thee,
And Valies't not what thou Can'st say of me;
Thy Smiles I count not, nor thy frowns I fear,
My days are past, my head lies quiet here.
What faults you saw in me take Care to shun,
Look but at home, enough is to be done.

If e'er she knew an evil thought
She spoke no evil word:
Peace to the gentle! She read more

If e'er she knew an evil thought
She spoke no evil word:
Peace to the gentle! She hath sought
The bosom of her Lord.

Yet at the resurrection we shall see
A fair edition, and of matchless worth,
Free from erratas, read more

Yet at the resurrection we shall see
A fair edition, and of matchless worth,
Free from erratas, new in heaven set forth.

Speme e Fortune, addio; che' in porto entrai.
Schernite gli altri; ch'io vi spregio omai.

Speme e Fortune, addio; che' in porto entrai.
Schernite gli altri; ch'io vi spregio omai.

Beneath these green trees rising to the skies,
The planter of them, Isaac Greentree, lies;
The time read more

Beneath these green trees rising to the skies,
The planter of them, Isaac Greentree, lies;
The time shall come when these green trees shall fall,
And Isaac Greentree rise above them all.

His form was of the manliest beauty,
His heart was kind and soft,
Faithful, below, he did read more

His form was of the manliest beauty,
His heart was kind and soft,
Faithful, below, he did his duty;
But now he's gone aloft.

Kind reader! take your choice to cry or laugh;
Here Harod lies--but where's his Epitaph?
If such read more

Kind reader! take your choice to cry or laugh;
Here Harod lies--but where's his Epitaph?
If such you seek, try Westminister, and view
Ten thousand, just as fit for him as you.