English

Here lith the fresshe flowr of Plantagenet,
Here lith the white rose in the rede sete.
Here lith the nobull quen Elyzabeth,
Here lith the princes departid by deth.
Here lith blode of owr contray royall,
Here lith fame of Ynglond immortall.
Here lith of Edward the IIIIth a picture,
Here lith his dowghter and perle pure.
Here lith the wyff of Harry owr trew kyng,
Here lith the hart the joy and the gold rynge.
Here lith the lady so lyberall and gracius,
Here lith the pleasure of thy hows.

Here lieth under this marbill ston,
Riche Alane, the ballid man;
Whether he be safe or noght,
I recke never — for he ne roght!

Here lieth the worthy warrior
Who never bloodied sword;
Here lieth the noble counsellor,
Who never held his word.

Here lieth his Excellency,
Who ruled all the state;
Here lieth the Earl of Leicester,
Whom all the world did hate.

Here lies what had not birth, nor shape, nor fame;
No gentleman! no man! no-thing! no name!
For Jammie ne'er grew James; and what they call
More, shrunk to Smith--and Smith's no name at all.
Yet die thou can'st not, Phantom, oddly fated:
For how can no-thing be annihilated?
Ex nihilo nihil fit.

Here lies the preacher, judge, and poet, Peter
Who broke the laws of God, and man and metre.

Here lies the man who stripp'd Sin bare.
And kept her lean, on hard-earn'd fare;
Who forc'd the poor at home to stay,
But rode to church on Sabbath day;
And went to heav'n, the sinless say,
Because he bother'd God with prayer,
And would not let him have his way.

Here lies the best and worst of fate,
Two kings delight, the people 's hate,
The courtier 's star, the kingdom 's eye,
A man to draw an angel by;
Fear 's despiser, Villier s' glory,
The great man's volume, all Time's story.

Here lies Sir John Plumpudding, of the Grange,
Who hung himself one morning, for a change.

Here lies poor Johnson. Reader! have a care,
Tread lightly, lest you rouse a sleeping bear.
Religious, moral, generous and humane,
He was, but self-conceited, rude and vain:
Ill-bred, and overbearing in dispute,
A scholar and a Christian, yet a brute.
Would you know all his wisdom and his folly,
His actions, sayings, mirth, and melancholy,
Boswell and Thrale, retailers of his wit,
Will tell you how he wrote, and talked, and spit.

Here lies my wife,
Here lies she;
Hallelujah!