Great, good, and just! could I but rate
My griefs to thy too rigid fate,
I'd weep the world to such a strain,
As it would deluge once again:
But since thy loud-tongued blood demands supplies,
More from Briareus' hands than Argus' eyes,
I'll sing thy obsequies with trumpet sounds,
And write thy epitaph with blood and wounds.
James Graham
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-written-on-hearing-of-the-death-of-charles-i/
