Here-vnder lyes the wonder of her kinde,
The Quintessence of Nature and of Grace,
Wit, Beauty, Bounty, and (in Nobles race
The rarest Iewell) a right humble minde;
Here lyes her body, but her soule refin'd
Aboue th'impyreall, hath imperial place,
In blisse so boundlesse, as no words embrace,
Nor Art can feigne, nor mortall heart can find.
Her fame remaines a Monument of honor,
Built by her vertue gilt with purest gold,
With Lilly-flowres and Roses strewed vpon her,
Her Epitaph Urania thus enrol'd:
Mild child, chaste mayden, and religious wife:
The Euen crownes the day, Ioane Essex death her life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem