HY reliques, Rowe, to this fair Urn we
truft,
And facred, place by DRYDEN's awful duft:
Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies,
To which thy Tomb shall guide inquiring eyes.
It is as follows, on the Monument in the Abbey erected to
Rowe and his Daughter.
Thy Reliques, Rowɛ! to this fad shrine we trust,
And near thy SHAKESPEAR place thy honour'd bust.
Oh, next him, skill'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 fhade, 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.
VER. 3. Beneath a rude] The Tomb of Mr. Dryden was
Peace to thy gentle fhade, and endless reft!
Bleft in thy Genius, in thy Love too bleft!
One grateful woman to thy fame supplies
What a whole thankless land to his denies.
erected upon this hint by the Duke of Buckingham; was originally intended this Epitaph,
This SHEFFIELD rais'd. The facred Duft below
Was DRYDEN once: The reft who does not know? which the Author fince changed into the plain infcription now pon it, being only the name of that great Poet.
Natus Aug. 9, 1631. Mortuus Maij 1. 1700.
JOANNES SHEFFIELD DUX BUCKINGHAMIENSIS POSUIT.
Bleft with plain Reason, and with fober Sense:
No Conquests fhe, but o'er herself, defir'd,
No Arts effay'd, but not to be admir'd,
Paffion and Pride were to her foul unknown,
Convinc'd that Virtue only is our own.
So unaffected, fo compos'd a mind;
So firm, yet foft; fo ftrong, yet fo refin'd;
Heav'n, as its pureft 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 fuff'rings, and in joy fedate,
Good without noife, without pretenfion great.
Juft of thy word, in ev'ry 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 hath followed 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 bliss 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 Heav'n and not a Master
Whofe Art was Nature, and whofe Pictures Thought;
Now for two ages having fnatch'd from fate
Whate'er was beauteous, or whate'er was great,
Lies crown'd with Princes honours, Poets lays, 5
Due to his Merit, and brave Thirst of praise.
Living, great Nature fear'd he might outvie
Her works; and, dying, fears herself may die..
VER. 7. Imitated on the famous Epitaph on Raphael,
Raphael, timuit, quo fofpite, vinci
Rerum magna parens, et moriente, mori.
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