Here you will find the Poem An Epitaph of poet William Cowper
Here lies one who never drew Blood himself, yet many slew; Gave the gun its aim, and figure Made in field, yet ne'er pulled trigger. Armed men have gladly made Him their guide, and him obeyed; At his signified desire, Would advance, present, and fire. Stout he was, and large of limb, Scores have fled at sight of him; And to all his fame he rose Only following his nose. Neptune was he called; not he Who controls the boisterous sea. But of happier command, Neptune of the furrowed land; And, your wonder vain to shorten, Pointer to Sir John Throckmorton.
