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EPITAPH. .

Here Iyeth interred the body of REBECCA BERRY, the Wife of THOMAS ELTON, of STRATFORD LE BOW, Gent, who departed this life April 26, 1796, aged 52 years,

Come, Ladies, you that would appear
Like angels fair, come, dress you here;
Come, dress you at this marble stone,
And make that humble grace your own,
Which once adorn’d as fair a mind
As e'er yet lodg’d in womân kind :
So she was dress'd, whose humble life
Was free from pride, was free from strife;
Free from all envious brawls and jars,
Of human life the civil wars;
These ne'er disturb'd her peaceful mind,
Which still was gentle, still was kind.
Her very looks, her garb, her mien,
Disclos'd the humble soul within.
Trace her thro' ev'ry scene of life,
View her as widow, virgin, wife;
Still the same humble she appears,
The same in youth, the same in years;
The same in low, in high estate,
Ne'er vex'd with this, ne'er mov'd with that.
Go, Ladies, now, and if you'd be
As fair, as great, as good as she,
Go learn of her HUMILITY.

Stepney, Middleser.

}

VERSES,

WRITTEN DURING A FIT OF SICKNESS.

Each hour my spirits and my strength decay, . Each hour

my

ills increase ; In pain and lassitude I drag the day,

Bankrupt of joy, and stranger e'en to ease.

my cares and all

And when the world's great Aesculapius, Sleep,

His halcyon balm distils through ev'ry breast, Forbids calamity awhile to weep,

And gives Despair himself a transient rest ;

My eyes alone, rebellious to his pow'r,

Refuse his friendly edicts to obey ; At night the rigour of my fate deplore, Long for the dawn, yet dread the coming day!

John Lord Hervy.

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TO A LADY,
WITH A POCKET LOOKING-GLASS,

Written by her Husband.

T.

you, dear Wife, (and all must grant
A Wife no common confidante),
I dare my secret soul reveal,
Whate'er I think, whate'er I feel;

This verse, for instance, I design
To mark a female friend of mine,
Whom long with passion's warmest glee
I've seen,

and could for ever see.
But hear me first describe the dame;
If candour then can blame meblame.
I've seen her charm, at forty, more
Than half her sex at twenty-four;
Seen her, with equal pow'r and ease,
Draw right to rule, from will to please;
Seen her so frankly give, and spare
At
once,

with so discreet a care,
As if her sense, and her’s alone,
Could limit bounty like her own;
Seen her in Nature's simplest guise,
Above arts, airs, and fashions, rise ;
And when her peers she had surpass’d,
Improve upon herself at last;
Seen her, in short, in ev'ry part,
Discernment, temper, figure, heart,
So perfect, that, 'till Heav'n remove her,
I must admire, court her, love her.

Molly, I speak the thing I mean,
So rare a woman I have seen ;
And send this honest glass, that you,
Whene'er you please, may see her too!

Bishop.

EPITAPH

ON THE LATE JOHN ELWES, ESQ.

Here to man's honour, or to man's disgrace,
Lies a strong picture of the human race;
In Elwes' form—whose spirit, heart, and mind,
Virtue and vice in firmest tints pombin'd.
Rough was the rock, but blended deep with ore,
And base the mass, that many a diamond bore;
Meanness to grandeur, folly join’d to sense,
And av’rice coupled with benevolence ;
Whose lips ne'er broke a truth, nor hands a trust,
Were sometimes warmly kind, and always just;
With powers to reach ambition's highest birth,
He sunk a mortal, grov'ling to the earth;
Lost in the lust of adding pelf to pelf;
Poor to the poor; still poorer to himself. .
A foe to none, to many oft a friend;
Callous to give, through readiness to lend.
In each amusement, temperance was his taste,
A virtuous habit from the dread of waste;
To pleasure's joys he virtue's joys deny'd,
Want all his fear, and riches all his pride;
Yet, ev’n that fear, which bent to all but stealth,
Ne'er in his country's plunder dug for wealth ;
Call'd by her voice-but callid without expence-
His nobler nature rous'd in her defence;

And in the senate, lab’ring in her cause,
The firmest guardian of her fairest laws
He stood ;-and, each instinctive taint above,
To ev'ry bribe preferr'd a people's love.
But still, with no stern patriotisın fir’d,
Wrapt up in wealth, to wealth again retir'd;
By pen’ry guarded from pride's sickly train,
Living a length of days without a pain,
And, adding to the million never try'd,
Lov’d, pity'd, scorn'd, and honour'd-Elwes dy'd.
In this contracted character we see
Wealth lov’d for wealth is study'd misery;
Who with such parching avarice is curst,
Feels of all

pangs

of

penury the worst;
For while the springs of plenty round bim rise,
Dreading to taste, he thirsts,and, thirsting, dies !
Learn from this proof that, in life's tempting scene,
Man is a compound of the great and mean ;
Discordant qualities together ty’d,
Virtues in him, and vices are ally’d;
The sport of follies, or of crimes the heir,
We all the mixture of an Elwes share;
Pond'ring his faults then-ne'er his worth disown,
But in his nature, recollect thine owit ;
With humble awe thy mingled inap survey,
A soul of spirit in a fraine of clay;
And think, for life and pardon, where to trust,
Was God not mercy, when his creature's dust.

Annual Register.

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