Lines written by Robert of Gloucester upon King Henry the First, who died through over-eating of his favourite fish:—
“And when he com hom he willede of an lampreye to ete,
Ac hys leeches hym oerbede, vor yt was feble mete,
Ac he wolde it noyt beleve, vor he lovede yt well ynow,
And ete as in better cas, vor thulke lampreye hym slow,
Vor anon rygt thereafter into anguysse he drow,
And died vor thys lampreye, thane hys owe wow.”
On John Sydney,
Who died full of the Small Pox.
In this sacred urn there lies,
Till the last trump make it rise,
A light that’s wanting in the skies.
A corpse inveloped with stars,
Who, though a stranger to the wars,
Was mark’d with many hundred scars.Death, at once, spent all his store
Of darts, which this fair body bore,
Though fewer had kill’d many more.
For him our own salt tears we quaff,
Whose virtues shall preserve him safe,
Beyond the power of epitaph.
Upon Two Religious Disputants,
Who are interred within a few paces of each other.
Suspended here a contest see,
Of two whose creeds could ne’er agree;
For whether they would preach or pray,
They’d do it in a different way;
And they wou’d fain our fate deny’d,
In quite a different manner dy’d!
Yet, think not that their rancour’s o’er;
No! for ’tis 10 to 1, and more,
Tho’ quiet now as either lies,
But they’ve a wrangle when they rise.
On a disorderly fellow, named Chest.
Here lies one Chest within another.
That chest was good
Which was made of wood,
But who’ll say so of t’other?
On John Death.
Here lies John Death, the very same
That went away with a cousin of his name.