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HY reliques, Rowe, to this fair Urn we trust,
And sacred, place by DRYDEN's awful duft;
Beneath a rude + and nameless stone he lies,
To which thy Tomb shall guide inquiring eyes,
Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest!
Bleft in thy Genius, in thy Love too bleft!
One grateful woman to thy fame supplies
What a whole thankless land to his denies,
* It is as follows, on the Monument in the Abbey erected to Rowe and his Daughter.
Thy Reliques Rowe! to this fad Ihrine we trust,
And near thy SHAKESPEAR place thy honour'd bulte
Oh, next him, skill’d to draw the tender tear,
For never heart felt passion morc fincere;
To nobler sentiment to fire the brave,
For never BRITON more disdain'd a Nave.
Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest;
Blest in thy genius, in thy love too blest!
And bleft, that timely from our scene remov'd,
Thy foul enjoys the liberty it lov’d.
To these so mourn'd in death, so lov'd in life!
The childless parent and the widow'd wife,
With tears inscribes this monumental stone,
That holds their alhes and expects her own. + The Tomb of Mr. Dryden was erected upon this hint by the Duke of Buckingham ; to which was originally intended this Epitaph,
This SHEFFIELD rais'd. The facred Duft below
Was DRYDIN once: The rest who does not know ? which the Author fince changed into the plain inscription now upon it, bea ing only the name of that great Poet.
J. DR Y DE N.
Natus Aug. 9. 1631. Mortuus Maij 1. 1700.
JOANNIS SHEFFIILD DUX BUCKINGHAMIENSIS POSUIT.
Who died of a CANCER in her BREAST.
HERE rests a Woman, good without pretence,
Bleft with plain Reason, and with sober Sense :
No Conquests she, but o'er herself, desir’d,
No Arts essay'd, but not to be admir’d.
Paffion and Pride were to her Soul unknown,
Convinc'd that Virtue only is our own.
So unaffected, so compos'd a mind;
So firm, yet soft; so strong, yet so refin'd;
Heav'n, as its purest gold, by Tortures try'd ;
The Saint sustain'd it, but the Woman dy'd,
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 Dor, setshire, 1727
O! fair Example of untainted youth,
Of modest wisdom, and pacific truth :
Compos’d in suff'rings, and in joy sedate,
Good without noise, without pretension great.
Just of thy word, in ev'ry 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 Heav'n's eternal year is thine,
Go, and exalt thy Moral to Divine.
And thou, blest Maid ! attendant on his doom,
Pensive haft follow'd to the filent 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 Heav'n and not a Mafter taught,
Whose Art was Nature, and whose Pictures
Now for two ages having snatch'd from Fate
Whate'er was beanteous, 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, reft! thou braveft, gentleft mind,
Thy Country's friend, but more of human kind.
Oh born to Arms! 0 Worth in Youth approv'd !
O soft Humanity, in Age belov'd !
For thee the hardy Vet'ran 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,
At EASTHAMSTED in BERKS, 1730.
THIS modeft Stone, what few yain Marbles can,
May truly say, Here lies an honest Man: A Poet, bleft beyond the Poet's fate, Whom Heav'n kept sacred from the Proud and Great : Foe to loud Praise, and Friend to learned Ease, Content with Science in the Vale of Peace, Calınly he look'd on either Life, and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear ; From Nature's teinp'rate feast rose satisfy'd, Thank'd Heav'n that he had liv'd, and that he dy'd.
in WESTMINSTER-ABBEY, 1732.
F Manners gentle, of Affections mild;
In Wit, a Man; Simplicity, a Child :
With native Humour temp’ring virtuous Rage,
Form’d to delight at once and lash the age :
Above Temptation in a low Eftate,
And uncorrupted, ev'n among the Great :
A safe Companion, and an easy Friend,
Unblam'd thro’ Life, lamented in thy End.
These are Thy Honours ! not that here thy Buft
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*.
løtended for Sir ISAAC NEWTON,
Teftantur Tempus, Natura, Cælum :
Hoc marmor fatetur.
Nature and Nature's Laws lay hid in Night :
GOD said, Let Newton be! and all was Light.
* 1.c. in the hearts of the good and worthy.--. Mr. Pope told me his conceit in this line was not generaliy understood. For, by peculiar ill-luck, the formulary expression, which makes the beauty, misleads the reader into a fenfe which takes
quite away. Vol. III.