Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

Yet soft his Nature, tho' severe his Lay,
His Anger moral, and his Wisdom gay.

.
Bleft Sat'rift! who touch'd the Mean so true,
As show'd, Vice had his hate and pity too.
Bleft Courtier! who could King and Country please,
Yet sacred keep his Friendthips, and his Ease.
Blest Peer! his great Forefathers ev'ry grace
Reflecting, and reflected in his Race ;
Where other BUCKHURSTS, other Dorsets shine,
And Patriots still, or Poets, deck the Line.

NOTES.
For random praise the Work would ne'er be done :
Each Mother alk. it for her Losby Son:
Each Widow asks it for the best of Men ;

For him the weeps, for him she weeds again. Yet when these elegiac movements came freely from the heart, he mourns in such itrains as thew he was equally a matter of this kind of Compofition with every other he undertook, as the following lines in the Epifle to Jertas may witness; which would have made the finest Epitaph in the world:

Call round her Tomb each object of defire,
Each purer frame inform'd with purer fire:
Bid her be all that chears or softens lisc,
The tender sister, daughter, friend, and wife :
Bid her be all that makes Mankind adore ;
Then view this marble, and be vain no more.

II.

On Sir William TRUMBAL,

One of the Principal Secretaries of State

to King WILLIAM 1H. who having tefigned his Place, died in his Retirement at Easthamsted in Berkshire, 1716.

A

Pleasing

firm

yet Sincere, tho'prudent; constant, yet resign'd: Honour unchang'd, a Principle profest, Fix'd to one side, but mod rate to the rest: An honest Courtier, yet a Patriot too; Just to his Prince, and to his Country true : Fillid with the Sense of Age, the Fire of Youth, A Scorn of wrangling, yet a Zeal for Truth; A gen'rous 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 Har

Court; at the Church of Stanton-
Harcourt in Oxfordshire, 1720.

O this sad shrine, whoc'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 sorrows, mix his own!

IV.

On JAMES CRAGGS, Efq.

In Westminster-Abbey.

JA CO BUS 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 broke no Promise, serv'd no private End,
Who gain’d no Title, and who loft 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.

T

HY 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 Thall guide inquiring eyes.

VARIATIONS. It is as follows, on the Monument in the Abbey erected to

Rowe ad his Daughter.

Thy Reliques, Rowe! to this sad shrine we trust,
And near thy SHAKESPEAR place thy honour'd bust.
Oh, next him, skill'd io draw the tender tear,
For never heart felt passion more sincere ;
To nobler sentiment to fore the brave,
For never BRITON more disdain'd a slave.
Peace to thy gentle shade, and endlefs reft;
Bleft in thy ginius, in thy love too blest !
And bleft, that timely from our scene remov'd,
Thy soul enjoys the liberty it lov’d.

To these fo mourn'd in death, fo lov'd in life!
The childless parent and the widow'd wife,
With tear; inscribes this nronumental stone,
That holds their afhes and expects her own.

3

« AnteriorContinuar »