Let no profane ignoble foot tread neer <br />This hallow'd peece of earth, Dorset lies here. <br />A small sad relique of a noble spirit, <br />Free as the air, and ample as his merit; <br />Whose least perfection was large, and great <br />Enough to make a common man compleat. <br />A soul refin'd and cull'd from many men, <br />That reconcil'd the sword unto the pen, <br />Using both well. No proud forgetting Lord, <br />But mindful of mean names and of his word. <br />One that did love for honour, not for ends, <br />And had the noblest way of making friends <br />By loving first. One that did know the Court, <br />Yet understood it better by report <br />Then practice, for he nothing took from thence <br />But the kings favour for his recompence. <br />One for religion, or his countreys good <br />That valu'd not his Fortune nor his blood. <br />One high in fair opinion, rich in praise; <br />And full of all we could have wisht, but dayes. <br />He that is warn'd of this, and shall forbear <br />To vent a sigh for him, or lend a tear; <br />May he live long and scorn'd, unpiti'd fall, <br />And want a mourner at his funerall.<br /><br />Henry King<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-epitaph-on-his-most-honoured-friend-richard-earl-of-dorset/
