Epigram 21. An Epitaph on my dear Cousin German Mrs. Elizabeth Stanhope, who died at Elveston about the 20th year of her age, and lies there buried

Here lies a Virgin, and (in stead
Of losing of her Maiden-head;
For she should soon have been a wife)
Bereaved of a noble Life:
Stanhopes lament, and Ratcliffes mourn
Before her sad untimely Urne.
But such a sorrow is too slight
For cause of so extreme a weight;
Droop Elveston, and Darbyshire,
No Green, but black perpetual wear:
May April showers to Heavens tears turning,
Make all May-flowers spring up in mourning.
Weep all that ever knew her, or
Rather all that have heard of her.
For trivial Deaths let's mourning wear
Of black, for her of cloth of hair:
Or let us senseless clothes despise,
And show our sadness in our eyes.
Let's melt our hearts though they be stones,
And weep our eyes to Diamonds.
Which (being touch'd by deaths cold hand)
Congeal'd may on her Marble stand.
Any discourse let us detest;
For sighs and grones express us best.
But who is this that we in such
A sorrow must lament so much?
Elizabeth Stanhope; now you know,
Go mourn until you die for wo.