INTENDED FOR MR. ROWE,
In Westminster Abbey.

THY reliques, Rowe, to this fair urn we trust,
And, sacred, place by Dryden's awful dust:
Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies,
To which thy tomb shall guide inquiring eyes.
Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest!
Bless'd in thy genius, in thy love too bless'd!
One grateful woman to thy fame supplies
What a whole thankless land to his denies.

ON MRS. CORBET,

Who died of a Cancer in her Breast.
HERE rests a woman, good without pretence,
Bless'd with plain reason, and with sober sense;
No conquest she, but o'er herself, desired,
No arts essay'd, but not to be admired.
Passion and pride were to her soul unknown,
Convinced that virtue only is our own.
So unaffected, so composed a mind;
So firm, yet soft; so strong, yet so refined;
Heaven, as its purest gold, by tortures tried,
The saint sustain'd it, but the woman died.

ON THE MONUMENT OF THE
HONOURABLE ROBERT DIGBY,

AND OF HIS SISTER MARY,

Erected by their Father, the Lord Digby, in the Church of Sherborne, in Dorsetshire, 1727.

Go! fair example of untainted youth,
Of modest wisdom, and pacific truth;
Composed in sufferings, and in joy sedate,

Good without noise, without pretension great:

Just of thy word, in every thought sincere,

Who knew no wish but what the world might hear:
Of softest manners, unaffected mind,

Lover of peace, and friend of human-kind :
Go, live! for heaven's eternal year is thine,
Go, and exalt thy moral to divine!

And thou, bless'd maid! attendant on his doom,
Pensive hast follow'd to the silent tomb,
Steer'd the same course to the same quiet shore,
Not parted long, and now to part no more!
Go then, where only bliss sincere is known!
Go, where to love and to enjoy are one!

Yet, take these tears, mortality's relief,
And till we share your joys, forgive our grief
These little rites, a stone, a verse, receive;
'Tis all a father, all a friend, can give !

ON SIR GODFREY KNELLER,

In Westminster Abbey, 1723.

KNELLER, by Heaven, and not a master, taught, Whose art was nature, and whose pictures thought; Now for two ages having snatch'd from fate Whate'er was beauteous, or whate'er was great, Lies crown'd with princes' honours, poets' lays, Due to his merit, and brave thirst of praise.

Living, great nature fear'd he might outvie Her works; and, dying, fears herself may die.

ON GENERAL HENRY WITHERS,

In Westminster Abbey, 1729.

HERE, Withers, rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind, Thy country's friend, but more of human-kind. O born to arms! O worth in youth approved! O soft humanity, in age beloved!

For thee the hardy veteran drops a tear,
And the gay courtier feels the sigh sincere.
Withers, adieu! yet not with thee remove
Thy martial spirit, or thy social love!
Amidst corruption, luxury, and rage,
Still leave some ancient virtues to our age:
Nor let us say (those English glories gone)
The last true Briton lies beneath this stone.

ON MR. ELIJAH FENTON,

At Easthamstead, in Berks, 1730.

THIS modest stone, what few vain marbles can, May truly say, 'Here lies an honest man:'

A poet, bless'd beyond the poet's fate,

Whom Heaven kept sacred from the proud and great

Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease,
Content with science in the vale of peace,
Calmly he look'd on either life, and here

Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear;

From nature's temperate feast rose satisfied,
Thank'd Heaven that he had lived, and that he died

ON MR. GAY,

In Westminster Abbey, 1730.

Or manners gentle, of affections mild; n wit, a man; simplicity, a child:

With native humour tempering virtuous rage,
Form'd to delight at once and lash the age:
Above temptation in a low estate,
And uncorrupted, e'en among the great:
A safe companion, and an easy friend,
Unblamed through life, lamented in thy end.
These are thy honours! not that here thy bust
Is mix'd with heroes, or with kings thy dust;
But that the worthy and the good shall say,
Striking their pensive bosoms-'Here lies Gay.

ANOTHER.

WELL then! poor Gay lies under ground,
So there's an end of honest Jack:
So little justice here he found,

'Tis ten to one he'll ne'er come back.

INTENDED FOR SIR ISAAC NEWTON,
In Westminster Abbey.

ISAACUS NEWTONUS:

Quem Immortalem
Testantur Tempus, Natura, Cœlum:
Mortalem

Hoc Marmor Fatetur.

NATURE and nature's laws lay hid in night:
God said, 'Let Newton be!' and all was light

ON DR. FRANCIS ATTERBURY,

BISHOP OF ROCHESTER,

Who died in Exile in Paris, 1732.

[His only daughter having expired in his arms, imme diately after she arrived in France to see him.]

DIALOGUE.

She. YES, we have lived-one pang, and then we part; May Heaven, dear father! now have all thy heart.

Yet, ah! how once we loved, remember still,

Till you are dust like me.

He.

Dear shade! I will:

Then mix this dust with thine-O spotless ghost!

O more than fortune, friends, or country lost!
Is there on earth one care, one wish beside?
Yes-'Save my country, Heaven.'-He'said, and died

ON EDMUND DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM,

Who died in the 19th year of his age, 1735.
IF modest youth with cool reflection crown'd,
And every opening virtue blooming round,
Could save a parent's justest pride from fate,
Or add one patriot to a sinking state;
This weeping marble had not ask'd thy tear,
Or sadly told how many hopes lie here!
The living virtue now had shone approved,
The senate heard him, and his country loved.
Yet softer honours, and less noisy fame
Attend the shade of gentle Buckingham:
In whom a race, for courage famed and art,
Ends in the milder merit of the heart;
And, chiefs or sages long to Britain given,
Pays the last tribute of a saint to Heaven.

FOR ONE WHO WOULD NOT BE BURIED IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

HEROES and kings! your distance keep;

In peace let one poor poet sleep,

Who never flatter'd folks like you :

Let Horace blush, and Virgil too.

ANOTHER, ON THE SAME.

UNDER this marble or under this sill, Or under this turf, or e'en what they will; Whatever an heir, or a friend in his stead, Or any good creature shall lay o'er my head; Lies one who ne'er cared, and still cares not a pin, What they said, or may say, of the mortal within; But who, living and dying, serene still and free, Trusts in God, that as well as he was, he shall be.