Upon a maid that dyed the day she was marryed.

THat Morne which saw me made a Bride,
The Ev'ning witnest that I dy'd.
Those holy lights, wherewith they guide
Unto the bed the bashfull Bride;
Serv'd, but as Tapers, for to burne,
And light my Reliques to their Urne.
This Epitaph, which here you see,
Supply'd the Epithalamie.