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Thomas Carew - Epitaph On The Lady Mary Villiers
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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.
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