Ε Ρ Ι Τ Α Ρ Η S.

“ His faltem accumulem donis, et fungar inani

VIRG. « Munere !"

I. On CHARLES Earl of DORSET,

In the Church of Withyam in Sussex.

Do

ORSET, the Grace of Courts, the Muses' Pride,

Patron of Arts, and judge of Nature, dy'd. The scourge of Pride, though sanctified or great, Of Fops in Learning, and of Knaves in State : Yet soft his Nature, though severe his Lay, His Anger moral, and his Wisdom gay. Bleft Satirist! who touch'd the Mean so true, As show'd, Vice had his hate and pity too. Blest Courtier ! who could King and Country please, Yet sacred keep his Friendships, and his ease. Blest Peer! his great Forefathers every grace Reflecting, and reflected in his Race; Where other BucKHURSTS, other Dorsets shine, And Patrons still, or Poets, deck the Line.

II.

On Sir WILLIAM TRUMBAL, One of the principal Secretaries of State to King

WILLIAM III. who, having resigned his place, died in his Retirement at East-hamsted in Berk

shire, 1716. A Pleafing Form ; a firm, yet cautious Mind;

Sincere, though prudent; constant, yet resign'd: Honour unchang'd, a Principle profest, Fix'd to one side, but moderate to the rest : An honest Courtier, yet a Patriot too; Just 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 generous Faith, from Superstition 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 Oxford

shire, 1720.

T

O this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art.! draw near,

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 Reason, 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, Efq;

In Westminster-Abbey.
JACOBUS CRAGGS

REGI MAGNÆ BRITANNIÆ A SECRETIS

ET CONSILIIS SANCTIORIBUS,
PRINCIPIS PARITER AC POPULI AMOR ET DELICIÆ;

VIXIT TITULIS ET INVIDIA MAJOR
ANNOS, HEU PAUCOS, XXXV.

OB. FEB. XVI. MDCCXX.

Statesman, yet Friend to Truth! of Soul sincere,
In Action faithful, and in Honour clear!

Who

Who broke no Promise, serv'd no private End,
Who gain’d no Title, and who lost no Friend,
Ennobled by Himself, by All approv'd,
Prais’d, wept, and honour'd, by the Muse he lov’d.

V.
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!

5
Blest in thy Genius, in thy Love too bleft!
One grateful woman to thy fame supplies
What a whole thankless land to his denies.

VARIATION.

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

Thy Reliques, Rowe! to this fad fhrine we trust,
And near thy Shakespeare place thy honour'd bust,
Oh, next him, skill'd to draw the tender tear,
For never heart felt passion more sincere ;
To nobler sentiment to fire the brave,
For never Briton more disdain'd a slave.
Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest;
Blest in thy genius, in thy love too blest!
And blest, that, timely from our scene remov’d,
Thy soul 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 ashes and expects her own.

VI. OD

A a 4

VI.
On Mrs. CORBET,
Who died of a Cancer in her Breaft.

HERE reffs a Woman, good without pretence,

Blest with plain Reason, and with sober Sense :
No Conquests fhe, but o'er herself, desir'd,
No Arts essay'd, but not to be admir'd.
Passion 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 refind;
Heaven, as its purest gold, by Tortures try'd;
The Saint sustain'd it, but the Woman dy'd.

VII.

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.

G

O! fair Exampie of untainted youth,

Of modest wisdom, and pacific truth : Compos’d 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 foftest manners, unaffected mind, Lover of peace, and friend of human kind :