Epitaph on the Lady Mary Villiers

This little vault, this narrow room,

Of Love, and Beauty, is the tomb;

The dawning beam that gan to clear

Our clouded sky, lies darken'd here,

Forever set to us, by death

Sent to inflame the world beneath.

'Twas but a bud, yet did contain

More sweetness than shall spring again;

A budding star that might have grown

Into a sun, when it had blown.

This hopeful beauty did create

New life in Love's declining state;

But now his empire ends, and we

From fire and wounding darts are free;

His brand, his bow, let no man fear,

The flames, the arrows, all lie here.