Whose virtues cannot sink in Lethe floud.
Two brethern had she, barons of this realme,
A knight her freere, Sir Henry Lee, he hight,
To whom she bare three impes, which had to name,
John, Henry, Mary, slayn by fortune spight,
First two being yong, which cavs'd their parents mone,
The third in flower and prime of all her yeares:
All three do rest within this marble stone,
By which the fickleness of worldly joyes appears.
Good Frend sticke not to strew with crimson flowers