Book IV, 40: On a Monument

Seest thou that Mon'ment? Dost thou see how Art
Does polish nature to adorne each part
Of that rare Worke, whose glorious Fabrick may
Commend her beauty to an after day?
Is't not a dainty Pece? And apt to raise
A rare advantage to the Makers praise?
But knowst thou what this dainty Peece encloses?
Beneath this glorious Marble there reposes
A noysome putrid Carkas, halfe devour'd
By crawling Caniballs, disguiz'd, deflour'd
With loath'd Corruption, whose consuming sent
Would poyson thoughts, although it have no vent:
Ev'n sucha Peece art thou, who ere thou be
That readst these Lines: This Monument is Thee:
Thy Body is a Fabricke, wherein Nature
And Art conspire to heighten up a Creature
To summe Perfection, being a living Story
And rare Abridgement of his Makers Glory;
But full of loathsome Filth, and nasty mire
Of lust, uncurb'd Affections, base desire;
Curious without, but most corrupt within
A glorious Monument of inglorious Sin.