Phoenix and Turtle

Beauty, Truth, and Rarity,
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclosed, in cinders lie.
Death is now the Phoenix’ nest,
And the Turtle’s loyal breast,
To eternity doth rest.
…
Truth may seem, but cannot be,
Beauty brag, but ’tis not she,
Truth and Beauty buried be.
To this urn let those repair,
That are either true or fair,
For these dead Birds, sigh a prayer.