"Whatte tho' I onne a sledde bee drawne,
And mangled by a hynde, 190
I doe defye the traytor's pow'r,
Hee can ne harm my mynde;
"Whatte tho', uphoisted onne a pole,
Mye lymbes shall rotte ynne ayre,
And ne ryche monument of brasse 195
BAWDIN'S name shall bear;
"Yett ynne the holie booke above,
Whyche tyme can't eate awaie,
There wythe the sarvants of the Lorde
Mye name shall lyve for aie.
And mangled by a hynde, 190
I doe defye the traytor's pow'r,
Hee can ne harm my mynde;
"Whatte tho', uphoisted onne a pole,
Mye lymbes shall rotte ynne ayre,
And ne ryche monument of brasse 195
BAWDIN'S name shall bear;
"Yett ynne the holie booke above,
Whyche tyme can't eate awaie,
There wythe the sarvants of the Lorde
Mye name shall lyve for aie.
Thomas Chatterton - Rowley Poems
