Epitaph on the Lady Mary Villiers

This little vault, this narrow room, Of Love, and Beauty, is the tomb; The dawning beam that gan to clear Our clouded sky, lies darken'd here, Forever set to us, by death Sent to inflame the world beneath. 'Twas but a bud, yet did contain More sweetness than shall spring again; A budding star that might have grown Into a sun, when it had blown. This hopeful beauty did create New life in Love's declining state; But now his empire ends, and we From fire and wounding darts are free; His brand, his bow, let no man fear, The flames, the arrows, all lie here.