An Epitaph Upon E.T. by Robert Wilde (Wylde)

Reader, didst thou but know what sacred dust
Thou tread’st upon, thou’dst judge thyself unjust
Shouldst thou neglect a shower of tears to pay,
To wash the sin of thy own feet away.
That actor in the play, who looking down
When he should cry’ O heaven,’ was thought a clown
And guilty of a solecism, might have
Applause for such an action o’er this grave.
Here lies a piece of heaven, and Heaven one day
Will send the best in heaven to fetch’t away.
Truth is, this lovely virgin from her birth
Became a constant strife ‘twixt heaven and earth;
Both claimed her, pleaded for her; either cried,
‘The child is mine!’ at length they did divide:
Heaven took her soul, the earth her corpse did seize;
Yet not in fee, she only holds by lease,
With this proviso—when the Judge shall call,
Earth shall give up her share, and heaven have all.

From: Wilde, Robert and Hunt, John (ed.), Poems by Robert Wilde, D.D., One of the Ejected Ministers of 1662, with a Historical and Biographical Preface and Notes, 1870, Strahan & Co. Publishers: London, p. 38.
(https://books.google.com.au/books?id=mjoUAQAAMAAJ)

Date: 16??

By: Robert Wilde (Wylde) (1615-1679)

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