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| HERE lieth one who did most truly prove | |
| That he could never die while he could move; | |
| So hung his destiny, never to rot | |
| While he might still jog on and keep his trot; | |
| Made of sphere-metal, never to decay | 5 |
| Until his revolution was at stay. | |
| Time numbers Motion, yet (without a crime | |
| ’Gainst old truth) Motion numbered out his time; | |
| And, like an engine moved with wheel and weight, | |
| His principles being ceased, he ended straight. | 10 |
| Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death, | |
| And too much breathing put him out of breath; | |
| Nor were it contradiction to affirm | |
| Too long vacation hastened on his term. | |
| Merely to drive the time away he sickened, | 15 |
| Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quickened. | |
| “Nay,” quoth he, on his swooning bed outstretched, | |
| “If I may n’t carry, sure I ’ll ne’er be fetched, | |
| But vow, though the cross Doctors all stood hearers, | |
| For one carrier put down to make six bearers.” | 20 |
| Ease was his chief disease; and, to judge right, | |
| He died for heaviness that his cart went light. | |
| His leisure told him that his time was come, | |
| And lack of load made his life burdensome, | |
| That even to his last breath (there be that say ’t), | 25 |
| As he were pressed to death, he cried, “More weight!” | |
| But, had his doings lasted as they were, | |
| He had been an immortal Carrier. | |
| Obedient to the moon he spent his date | |
| In course reciprocal, and had his fate | 30 |
| Linked to the mutual flowing of the seas; | |
| Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase. | |
| His letters are delivered all and gone; | |
| Only remains this superscription. | |
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