Wiston Vault.

ANd why this Vault and Tomb? alike we must
Put off Distinction, and put on Dust.
Nor can the stateliest fabrick help to save
From the corruptions of a common Grave;
Nor for the Resurrection more prepare,
Then if the Dust were scatter'd into air.
What then? Th' ambition's just, say some, that we
May thus perpetuate our Memory.
Ah false vain task of Art! ah poor weak Man!
Whose Monument does more then's Merit can:
Who by his Friends best care and love's abused,
And in his very Epitaph misused:
For did they not suspect his Name would fall,
There would not need an Epitaph at all.
But after death too I would be alive,
And shall, if my Lucasia do, survive.
I quit these pomps of Death, and am content,
Having her Heart to be my Monument:
Though ne're Stone to me, 'twil Stone for me prove,
By the peculiar miracles of Love.
There I'le Inscription have which no Tomb gives,
Not, Here Orinda lies, but, Here she lives.