Classic Poem

Though I have twice been at the Doores of Death,
And twice found shut those gates which ever mourne,
This but a lightning is, Truce ta'en to Breath,
For late-born Sorrows augure fleete returne.
Amidst thy sacred Cares, and Courtlie Toyles,
Alexis, when thou shalt heare wandring Fame
Tell Death hath triumph'd o'er my mortall Spoyles,
And that on Earth I am but a sad Name;
If thou e'er held me deare, by all our Love,
By all that Blisse, those Joyes Heav'n here us gave,
I conjure thee, and by that Maide of Jove,
To grave this short Remembrance on my Grave.
Here Damon lies, whose Songes did some-time grace
The murmuring Esk; may Roses shade the place.