Not LEMUEL's mother with more care
Did counfel, or inftruct, her heir;
Or teach with more fuccefs her fon
The vices of the time to fhun.
An heirefs fhe; while yet alive,
All that was hers to him did give :
And he juft gratitude did show
To one that had oblig'd him so:
Nothing too much for her he thought,
By whom he was fo bread and taught,
So (early made that path to tread,
Which did his youth to honor lead)
His short life did a patern give,

How neighbours, hufbands, friends fhauld live.
The virtues of a private life
Exceed the glorious noife, and ftrife,

Of battles won in those we find

The folid int'reft of mankind,

Approv'd by all, and lov'd fo well, Tho' round, like fruit that's ripe, he fell.

EPITAPH on Colonel CHARLES
CAVENDISH.

HE

ERE lies CHARLES CA'NDISH: let the marble
stone,

That hides his afhes, make his virtue known.
Beauty, and valor, did his fhort life grace;
The grief, and glory, of his noble race!
Early abroad he did the world furvey.
As if he knew he had not long to stay :

Saw

Saw what great ALEXANDER in the east,
And mighty JULIUS conquer'd in the west.
Then, with a mind as great as theirs, he came
To find at home occafion for his fame :
Where dark confusion did the nations hide;
And where the juftor, was the weaker, side.
Two loyal brothers took their Sov'reign's part,
Employ'd their wealth, their courage, and their art.
The elder did whole Regiments afford;
The younger brought his conduct, and his sword,
Born to command, a Leader he begun,
And on the rebels lafting honor won:

The Horse, inftructed by their Gen'ral's worth,
Still make the King victorious in the north:
Where CA'NDISH fought, the Royalifts prevail'd;
Neither his courage, nor his judgment, fail'd:
The current of his vict'ries found no ftop,
Till CROMWELL came, his party's chiefeft prop.
Equal fuccefs had fet these champions high,
And both refolv'd to conquer, or to die :
Virtue with rage, fury with valor, ftrove;

But, that muft fall which is decreed above!
CROMWELL, what odds of number, and of Fate
Remov'd this bulwark of the Church, and State :
Which the fad iffue of the war declar'd,
And made his task, to ruin both, less hard.
So, when the bank neglected is o'erthrown,
The boundless torrent does the country drown.
Thus fell the young, the lovely and the brave;
Strew bays, and flowers, on his honour'd grave!

*WILLIAM Earl of Devonshire.

H

EPITAPH on the Lady SEDLEY.

ERE lies the learned SAVIL's heir;

So early wife, and lafting fair!
That none, except her years they told,
Thought her a child, or thought her old.
All that her father knew, or got,
His art, his wealth, fell to her lot:
And the fo well improv'd that ftock,
Both of his knowledge, and his flock;
That, Wit and Fortune, reconcil'd
In her, upon each other smil'd
While the, to ev'ry well-taught mind,
Way fo propiteously inclin d,
And gave much title to her store,
That none but the ignorant, were poor.
The MUSES daily found fupplies,
Both from her hands, and from her eyes.
Her bounty did at once engage,

And matchless beauty warm, their rage.
Such was this dame in calmer days,
Her nations ornament, and praife!
But, when a ftorm difturb'd our reft,
The port and refuge, of th' oppreft.
This made her fortune understood,
And look'd on as fonie public good.
So that (her person, and her ftate,
Exempted from the common fate)
In all our civil fury fhe

Stood like a facred temple, free.
May here her monument fiand fo,
To credit this rude age! and show

To

To future times, that even we
Some patterns did of virtue see :
And one fublime example had
Of good, among so many bad.

EPITAPH to be written under the LATIN
Inscription upon the Tomb of the only
Son of the Lord AND OVER.

IS fit the ENGLISH reader fhould be told,

'TIS weath

In our own language, what this tomb does hold

'Tis not a noble corps alone does lie
Under this stone but a whole family:

His parents' pious care, their name, their joy,
And all their hope, lies bury'd with this boy :
This lovely youth: for whom we all made moan,
That knew his worth, as he had been our own.

Had there been space, and years enough allow'd,
His courage, wit and breeding, to have show'd,
We had not found in all the num'rous roll
Of his fam'd ancestors, a greater foul :
His early virtues to that antient stock
Gave as much honor as from thence he took.
Like buds appearing e'er the frofts are paft,
To become man he made fuch fatal hafte ;
And to perfection labour'd fo to climb,
Preventing flow experience, and time;
That 'tis no wonder death our hopes beguil❜d::
He's feldom old, that will not be a child.

EPITAPH, unfinish'd.

REATfoul! for whom death will no longer stay,

G But fends in hafte to fnatch our blifs away.

O cruel death! to those you take more kind,
Than to the wretched mortals left behind!
Here beauty, youth, and noble virtue fhin'd;
Free from the clouds of pride that fhade the mind.
Inspired verfe may on this marbel live,

But can no honor to thy afhes give.-