“The Lady Mary Villiers lies Under this stone: with weeping eyes The parents that first gave her breath And their sad friends laid her in earth. If any of them, reader, were Known unto thee, shed a tear; Or if thyself possess a gem, As dear to thee as this to them, Though a stranger to this place, Bewail in theirs thine own hard case: For thou perhaps at thy return May’st find thy darling in an urn.” ANOTHER. “The purest soul that e’er was sent Into a clayey tenement Informed this dust; but the weak mould Could the great guest no longer hold: The substance was too pure--the flame Too glorious that thither came: Ten thousand Cupids brought along A grace on each wing that did throng For place there--till they all opprest The seat on which they sought to rest. So the fair model broke for want Of room to lodge th’ inhabitant. When in the brazen leaves of Fame The life, the death of Buckingham Shall be recorded, if truth’s hand Incise the story o’er our land, Posterity shall see a fair Structure by the studious care Of two kings raised, that no less Their wisdom than their power express; By blinded zeal (whose doubtful light Made murder’s scarlet robe seem white-- Whose vain deluding phantoms charmed A clouded sullen soul, and arm’d A desperate hand, thirsty of blood) Torn from the fair earth where it stood! So the majestic fabric fell. His actions let our annals tell; We write no chronicle; this pile Wears only sorrow’s face and style; Which e’en the envy that did wait Upon his flourishing estate, Turned to soft pity of his death, Now pays his hearse; but that cheap breath Shall not blow here, nor th’ impure brine Puddle the streams that bathe this shrine. These are the pious obsequies Dropped from his chaste wife’s pregnant eyes, In frequent showers, and were alone By her congealing sighs made stone, On which the carver did bestow These forms and characters of woe: So he the fashion only lent, Whilst she wept all this monument.”