Epitaph 2

O Thou who movest onward with a mindIntent upon thy way, pause though in haste!'Twill be no fruitless moment. I was bornWithin Savona's walls of gentle blood.On Tiber's banks my youth was dedicateTo sacred studies; and the Roman ShepherdGave to my charge Urbino's numerous Flock.Much did I watch, much laboured; nor had powerTo escape from many and strange indignities;Was smitten by the great ones of the WorldBut did not fall, for virtue braves all shocks,Upon herself resting immoveably.Me did a kindlier fortune then inviteTo serve the glorious Henry, King of France,And in his hands I saw a high rewardStretched out for my acceptance—but Death came.—Now, Reader, learn from this my fate—how false,How treacherous to her promise is the World,And trust in God—to whose eternal doomMust bend the sceptred Potentates of Earth.