Tixall Poetry/An Epitaph

by unknown author

An Epitaph.

 

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A double dialect speakes this stone,
Our ruine and foundation.
Here is summ'd up our gaine, our losse,
Here lies our blessing, and our crosse.
Behold here underneath this floore,
The corner-stone of Bellamore.
How solid must the fabrick prove,
That's founded on the rock Good Love!
Ah! who would to this world be wedd.
Since that Good Love itselfe is dead?
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$Forgive the word, she could not dye,
But her mortal dress lay'd by,
To put on immortallitye.

 

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