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ON THE MONUMENT OF THE

HON. R. DIGBY AND OF HIS SISTER

MARY, ERECTED BY THEIR FATHER LORD DIGBY,

In the Church of Sherborne, 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 humankind ! 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 humankind.
Oh, 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 EASTHAMSTED, 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, [great;
Whom Heaven kept sacred from the proud and
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, 1732. Of manners gentle, of affections mild ; In 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!'

INTENDED FOR SIR ISAAC NEWTON,

IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

ISAACUS NEWTONUS,

QUEM IMMORTALEM TESTANTUR, TEMPUS, NATURA, CÆLUM:

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 AT PARIS, 1732. [His only daughter having expired in his arms, immediately 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 WESTMIN

STER 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 een 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 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.

LORD CONINGSBY'S EPITAPH.
HERE lies Lord Coningsby—be civil ;
The rest God knows-so does the Devil.

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