Not marble, nor the guilded monument,
Of Princes ſhall out-liue this powrefull rime,
But you ſhall ſhine more bright in theſe contents
Then vnſwept ſtone, beſmeer'd with ſluttiſh time.
When waſtefull warre ſhall Statues ouer-turne,
And broiles roote out the worke of maſonry,
Nor Mars his ſword,nor warres quick fire ſhall burn:
The liuing record of your memory.
Gainſt death,and all obliuious emnity
Shall you pace forth,your praiſe ſhall ſtil find roome,
Euen in the eyes of all poſterity
That weare this world out to the ending doome.
So til the iudgement that your ſelfe ariſe,
You liue in this,and dwell in louers eies.
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