II.

On Sir WILLIAM TRUMBAL,

One of the principal Secretaries of State to King WILLIAM III. who having refigned his Place, died in his Retirement at Eafthamfted in Berkshire, 1716.

Aleafing Form; a firm yet cautious Mind;'

Sincere, tho' prudent; conftant, yet refign'd:

Honour unchang'd, a Principle profest,

Fix'd to one fide, but mod'rate to the rest:
An honeft Courtier, yet a Patriot too;

Juft to his Prince, and to his Country true:
Fill'd with the Sense of Age, the Fire of Youth;
A Scorn of wrangling, yet a Zeal for Truth;
A gen'rous Faith, from Superftition free;
A love to Peace, and hate of Tyranny;

Such this Man was; who now from Earth remov❜d,
At length enjoys that Liberty he lov'd.

III.

On the Hon. SIMON HARCOURT,

Only Son of the Lord Chancellor HARCOURT ; at the Church of Stanton-Harcourt in Oxfordshire, 1720.

O this fad fhrine, whoe'er thou art! draw near,

T°

Here lies the Friend most lov'd, the Son most dear:
Who ne'er knew Joy, but Friendship might divide,
Or gave his Father Grief but when he dy❜d.

How vain is Reafon, Eloquence how weak!
If Pope must tell what HARCOURT cannot speak.
Oh let thy once-lov'd Friend inscribe thy Stone,
And, with a Father's forrows, mix his own!

IV.

On JAMES CRAGGS, Esq;

In Weftminster-Abbey.

JACOBUS CRAGGS

REGI MAGNE BRITANNIE A SECRETIS

ET CONSILIIS SANCTIORIBUS,

PRINCIPIS PARITER AC POPULI AMOR ET DELICIA: VIXIT TITULIS ET INVIDIA MAJOR

ANNOS, HEU PAUCOS, XXXV,

OB. FEB. XVI. MDCCXX.

Statefman, yet Friend to truth! of Soul fincere,
In Action faithful, and in Honour clear!

Who broke no Promise, ferv'd no private End,
Who gain'd no Title, and who loft no Friend,
Ennobled by Himfelf, by All approv'd,

Prais'd, wept, and honour'd by the Muse he lov'd.

V.

Intended for Mr Row E,

TH

In Westminster-Abbey.

HY reliques, Rowe, to this fair Urn we
truft,

And facred, place by DRYDEN's awful duft:
Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies,
To which thy Tomb fhall guide inquiring eyes.

It is as follows, on the Monument in the Abbey erected to
Rowe and his Daughter.

Thy Reliques, Rowe ! to this sad shrine we trust,
And near thy SHAKESPEAR place thy honour'd buft.
Oh, next him, fkill'd to draw the tender tear,
For never heart felt paffion more fincere ;
To nobler fentiment to fire the brave,
For never BRITON more difdain'd a flave.
Peace to thy gentle fhade, and endless rest;
Bleft in thy genius, in thy love too bleft!
And bleft, that timely from our scene remov'd,
Thy foul enjoys the liberty it lov'd.

To thefe fo mourn'd in death, so lov'd in life!
The childless parent and the widow'd wife,
With tears inferibed this monumental stone,
That holds their afhes and expects her own.

VER. 3. Beneath a rude] The Tomb of Mr Dryden was

Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest!
Bleft in thy Genius, in thy Love too blest!
One grateful woman to thy fame supplies
What a whole thankless land to his denies

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 DRYDEN once: The rest who does not know?

which the Author fince changed into the plain inscription now upon it, being only the name of that great Poet.

J. DRYDEN.

Natus Aug. 9. 1631. Mortuus Maij 1. 1700.

JOANNES SHEFFIELD DUX BUCKINGHAMIENSIS

POSUIT.