Epitaph on Sir Palmes Fairborne’s Tomb, in Westminster Abbey

YE Sacred Relicks which your Marble keep,

Here, undisturb’d by Wars, in quiet sleep:

Discharge the trust, which (when it was below)

Fairborne’s undaunted soul did undergo:

And be the Towns Palladium from the foe.

Alive and dead these Walls he will defend:

Great Actions great Examples must attend.

The Candian Siege his early Valour knew;

Where Turkish Blood did his young hands imbrew:

From thence returning with deserv’d Applause,

Against the Moors his well-flesh’d Sword he draws;

The same the Courage, and the same the Cause.

His Youth and Age, his Life and Death combine:

As in some great and regular design,

All of a Piece, throughout, and all Divine

Still nearer heaven, his Vertues shone more bright,

Like rising flames expanding in their height;

The Martyrs Glory Crown’d the Soldier’s Fight.

More bravely Brittish General never fell,

Nor General’s death was e’re reveng’d so well;

Which his pleas’d Eyes beheld before their close,

Follow’d by thousand Victims of his Foes.

To his lamented loss for time to come,

His pious Widow consecrates this Tomb.