On Sir WILLIAM TRUMBAL,
One of the principal Secretaries of State to King WILLIAM III. who, having refigned his place, died in his Retirement at Eaft-hamfted in Berkfhire, 1716.
Pleafing Form; a firm, yet cautious Mind;
Sincere, though prudent; conftant, yet refign'd:
Honour unchang'd, a Principle profest,
Fix'd to one fide, but moderate to the rest:
An honest Courtier, yet a Patriot too;
Juft 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.
On the Hon. SIMON HARCOURT, Only Son of the Lord Chancellor HARCOURT, at the Church of Stanton-Harcourt in Oxfordfhire, 1720.
To this fad fhrine, 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 infcribe thy Stone,
And, with a Father's forrows, mix his own!
On JAMES CRAGGS, Efq;
In Westminster-Abbey.
JACOBUS CRAGGS
REGI MAGNE BRITANNIE 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.
Statefman, yet Friend to Truth! of Soul fincere,
In Action faithful, and in Honour clear!
Who broke no Promise, ferv'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.
Intended for Mr. ROW E,
In Westminster-Abbey.
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 fhall guide inquiring eyes.
Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest!
Bleft in thy Genius, in thy Love too bleft!
One grateful woman to thy fame supplies
What a whole thanklefs land to his denies.
It is as follows on the Monument in the Abbey erected to Rowe and his Daughter.
Thy Reliques, RowE! to this fad shrine we trust,
And near thy Shakespeare place thy honour'd bust,
Oh, next him, fkill'd to draw the tender tear,
For never heart felt paffion more fincere;
To nobler fentiment to fire the brave,
For never Briton more difdain'd a flave.
Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest;
Bleft in thy genius, in thy love too bleft!
And bleft, that, timely from our scene remov'd,
Thy foul enjoys the liberty it lov'd.
To thefe fo mourn'd in death, fo lov'd in life;
The childless parent and the widow'd wife,
With tears infcribes this monumental ftone,
That holds their afhes and expects her own.
On Mrs. CORBET,
Who died of a Cancer in her Breaft.
ERE refts a Woman, good without pretence,
H
Bleft with plain Reason, and with sober Sense :
No Conquefts fhe, but o'er herself, defir'd,
No Arts effay'd, but not to be admir'd.
Paffion 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 refin'd;
Heaven, as its purest gold, by Tortures try'd;
The Saint fuftain'd it, but the Woman dy'd.
On the Monument of the Honourable ROBERT DIGBY, and of his Sifter MARY, erected by their Father the LORD DIGBY, in the Church of Sherborne in Dorfetfhire, 1727.
O! fair Example of untainted youth,
Of modeft wisdom, and pacific truth:
Compos'd in fufferings, and in joy fedate,
Good without noise, without pretenfion great.
Juft of thy word, in every thought fincere,
Who knew no wish but what the world might hear:
Of fofteft manners, unaffected mind,.
Lover of peace, and friend of human kind:
Go, live! for Heaven's eternal year is thine,
Go, and exalt thy Moral to Divine.
And thou, bleft Maid! attendant on his doom,
Penfive haft follow'd to the filent tomb,
Steer'd the fame courfe to the fame quiet fhore,
Not parted long, and now to part no more!
Go then, where only blifs fincere 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 Mafter taught,
Whofe Art was Nature, and whofe 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 Thirft of praise.
Living, great Nature fear'd he might outvie
Her works; and, dying, fears herself may die.
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