An Epitaph
ENOUGH;
and
leave
the
rest
to
Fame!
'Tis
to
commend
her,
but
to
name.
Courtship
which,
living,
she
declined,
When
dead,
to
offer
were
unkind:
Nor
can
the
truest
wit,
or
friend,
Without
detracting,
her
commend.
To
say—she
lived
a
virgin
chaste
In
this
age
loose
and
all
unlaced;
Nor
was,
when
vice
is
so
allowed,
Of
virtue
or
ashamed
or
proud;
That
her
soul
was
on
Heaven
so
bent,
No
minute
but
it
came
and
went;
That,
ready
her
last
debt
to
pay,
She
summ'd
her
life
up
every
day;
Modest
as
morn,
as
mid-day
bright,
Gentle
as
evening,
cool
as
night:
—'Tis
true;
but
all
too
weakly
said.
'Twas
more
significant,
she's
dead.
