I Overcome & Conquer   outline of tombstone, including emblems of Death, which surrounds text  
AN ELEGY, Upon the DEATH of Major JOHN ASHTON, Who was Executed for High-Treason, on Wednesday the 28th of January, 1691. at Tyburn.  
Vt in utero Praeparamur vitae  
Sic in hac vita Praeparamur utero.  

A Wake my Muse, hold up thy Drowsy Head,  
Throw off thy Sleepy Blankets from thy Bed;  
Let some sad Fancy touch thy Teeming Brain,  
And raise thy Raptures to a Tragic Strain.  
Rouse, Rouse, my Muse, and let the Fatal Sound,  
Be Echoed through the Neighbouring Plains around;  
And let this Tale, this Tragic Tale, be told  
By every Swain, when Night commands to Fold;  
And as they lie to take their Ease at Noon,  
To shun the Ardour of the Parching Sun,  
Beneath a Shade, where Swains are wont to Sleep  
At high Noon-tide, do use to Lare their Sheep:  

There, as they sit, there let the Shepherds tell  
The Younger Swains, how basely Philomela  
Impiously acted, and how Basely Fell.   
In Rural Notes let them relate the way.  
Stop here my Muse— Go not too far Astray,  
For whilst the Fact I labour to Rehearse,  
It Clogs my Paper, and Defiles my Verse;  

And as I tell the World the Reason why,  
This Ignominious Death this Man did die,  
I Blush to quote his Name in Elegy.   
Oh Death! will thy Insatiate Trunk ne'er Fill,  
Thy Viands are Frequent, yet thou'rt Craving still:  

Thou and thy Melancholy House the Grave,  
Like unwormed Dogs, the more you're plied you crave,  
Yet are not filled, though ne'er so much you have.   
I Tax thee not of being Partial here,  
Tho' too too oft thy Edicts are Severe:  
The Wise, the Ignorant, the Great, the Slave,  
Have no Distinction in the silent Grave.  
For Primitive, nothing shall at length become,  
That ill-shaped Chaos which it issued from.  
Depraved Man, when once he hugs a Sin,  
Sets ope' the Floodgates, let's a Thousand in,  
Till he on every side is compassed Round,  
And in the Deluge, which he made, is Drowned.  

Thus Ashton Sung a Secure Lullaby,  
Till once Convicted for his Treachery,  
Did Unlamented and Unpitied die.   

Puffed up with Honour, and Ambitious things,  
He soared too High, malaxed his ill-made Wings,  
In carrying Tales to Two Dejected Kings:   
The Wax it melted when too nigh the Sun,  
And (like Icarius) he as soon fell down:  

To gain a Catholic Popular Applause,  
Espoused at once an Abdicated Cause,  
Laid by Allegiance to Infringe the Laws;   
To satisfy a most Insatiate Will,  
Rebelled in Private for a Public Ill;  

Till Just Heaven (who th'Black Intrigue had seen)  
Exposed the Actors, and Transposed the Scene,  
Bawked all their Plotting and stepped in between.   
For Providence a Lasting Watch does keep,  
Tho' for a time 'tis Silent, does not Sleep.  
How Common are the Changes of a State,  
When every Man endeavours to be Great!  

And by Illegal Means Presume t' Invade  
The Pious Edicts which their Fathers made,  
And so of Treason make a Common Trade.   
Thus he Indulged a Treason in his Breast,  
But 'tis discovered, and the Land has Rest.  

Unfortunate in deep Intrigues of State,  
That still as he endeavoured to be Great,  
Each Step he made pushed on's Depending Fate.   

I will not Triumph in his wretched Fall,  
Since with his Blood he has Atoned for all,  
Tho for such Treason 'twas a Price too Small.     

EPITAPH.  

The Reader, I know, will be ready to Laugh,  
('Cause I upon Ashton have made Epitaph)  
But why should not be be Remembered, when Dead,  
As well as a Person that loses his Head;  
Tho he was but Hanged, and his Body not Quartered,  
Yet I know some in Town will Swear he was Martyred,  

And since he is Dead, Epitaph he shall have,  
And this Inscription set up on his Grave;  
Here lyeththe Corpse of a Treacherous K—   

Where we'll let it rest, till the Trumpet shall sound,  
Crying Ashton Arise, and come out of your Pound,  
You may go to France without fear to be found.     

LONDON, Printed by G. C. at the Blue Ball in Thames-street, for W. Rayner, 1691. 189.