wich bishops, with the date on his foot - and that's all we know of him. Lookee, there are the 'scutcheons of our Orfords-Sir Robert's and and there is the last the scholar

Lord George's

Lord's, not yet put up."

And are there to be no other monuments erected to them?

None, Sir Stranger."

This intelligence interested my mind, and if I were not fearful of hazarding too bold a figure, should add, inspired my Muse. By her assistance at least on my return to Mrs. Kendal's, I finished from the note-marks, made as I repassed the park, the tributary lines which follow:

LEFT IN THE PARK CHAPEL

OF

HOUGHTON-HALL, NORFOLK,

WHERE

SIR ROBERT WALPOLE, LORD GEORGE,

AND HORATIO WALPOLE,

ARE BURIED.

LONG for three

favour'd Heirs of deathless fame,

As many nations have confirm'd their claim;
And thrice three Mufes all the sacred nine
With lavish incense, have adorn'd the shrine :
And shall not one of England's Bards be found
To mark with awful verse the holy ground,
Where three of British birth, and high renown,
All of one noble stock, and all our own,
Enrich the Tomb? - the first of skill profound
The subtle polities of Man to sound,

To trace his mazy nature to its source,
Explore his shallows, try his depth and force;

*Three Poets, in three distant ages born, &c. &c. DRYDEN'S EPITAPH on MILTON.

And good as wise the next

let ev'ry art

That faithful Nature aids, and every heart
His bounty warm'd, in grateful sighs declare
He felt for all the Poor a father's care,

Taught the glad Horn of Plenty to expand,
And pour'd a broader blessing o'er the land.
Tafte, learning, elegance, the last endear,
And his least honour to have died a Peer.

In the cold vault, shall these neglected lie While pomp's vaft pyramids assault the sky? Yet, let those poor ones who have nought but birth, To mark they e'er had being here on earth,

The marble blazon, tell, with vain parade,

The scoffing world — Here we proud worms are laid!
But for the learn'd and wise, the brave and just,
Weak is the column, feeble is the bust;

Superfluous ev'n the Muse! and yonder Hall,
Its towers sublime, its solid base, shall fall;
While all that Virtue, all that Genius gave,
Immortal powers! shall triumph o'er the Grave:

Their words, their works, their deeds embalm THEM

best,

And REAR A MONUMENT IN EV'RY BREAST,

LETTER XII.

HOUGHTON, August.

THE HE good clerk was little disposed to break in upon the reflections that filled my mind, as he returned with me to the inn, being himself inclined to silent meditation: on rejoining him, however, after two or three convivial hours which he passed at the birth-day and audit feast, the quaint hilarity of his character, which opened our first views of him, returned, and he was earnest to know if he could give me any farther pleasure. To ask this well-meant question, he came from the festive throng into the room where I had been throwing upon paper the verses which concluded my last letter. He had obviously dispelled the gloom collected at the chapel, where he bewailed the dead, and by some generous draughts, had since warmed his heart towards the

living. He now came with a hope I would not refuse to go into the banquetting apartment to drink the health of his Highness-ship, George Prince of Wales, the new master and mistress of Houghton, Lord and Lady Cholmondeley, and success to the sickle - making a very respectful, though not quite correct, bow, for each of the objects thus to be toasted. Having promised this, I was proceeding to place my papers in a small ccritoire which is always my compagnon de voyage, when the page on which I had written the monumental verses falling on the floor, he picked it up with great respect, and said, as he delivered it to me, he fancied, it was full of poetals. He instantly repeated, that it had pleased GOD, though he was a poor fellow, to give him a fairish understanding in the natural line, and that he had made a poetal or two himself: one on a famous dog of Lord George's, which beat every thing, both at Swaffham and Newmarket, and one the night Lord George was buried. I told him I would gladly exchange with him on that subject, by reading my poetal to him, if he would read or repeat his