Cleave to death, Sussex lord.
Your lich bones bleach,
Which bones
Came haughty to New England.

Leave your wake, nobleman.
Your portrait, bleak,
To frighten young successors.

Wear the crypt, passing ghoul!
Sepulchral gaze
On chained and ivied stairwells.

Know your fault, Sussex lord.
Possessions lost
And gone
To distant nephews' fiefdoms.