True's Epitaph -o "O -<o "s^ 



I" F wit or honesty could save 



Our mouldering ashes from the grave, 

 This stone had still remain'd unmark'd, 

 I still writ prose, True still have bark'd. 

 But envious fate has claim'd its due, 

 Here lies the mortal part of True. 

 His deathless virtues must survive, 

 To better us that are alive. 



His prudence and his wit were seen 

 In that, from Mary's grace and mien, 

 He own'd the power, and lov'd the queen. 

 By long obedience he confess'd 

 That serving her was to be bless'd. — 

 Ye murmurers, let True evince 

 That men are beasts, and dogs have sense ! 



His faith and truth all Whitehall knows, 

 He ne'er could fawn or flatter those 

 Whom he believed were Mary's foes : 

 Ne'er skulk'd from whence his sovereign led him, 

 Or snarl'd against the hand that fed him. — 

 Read this, ye statesmen now in favour, 

 And mend your own, by True's behaviour ! 



Matthew Prior. 



3* 



