A soul as full of worth, as void of pride, Which nothing seeks to show, or needs to hide, Which nor to guilt nor fear its caution owes, And boasts a warmth that from no passion flows....
In these gay thoughts the Loves and Graces shine, And all the writer lives in every line; His easy art may happy nature seem, Trifles themselves are elegant in him. Sure, to charm all was his peculiar fate,...
This verse be thine, my friend, nor thou refuse This from no venal or ungrateful Muse. Whether thy hand strike out some free design, Where life awakes, and dawns at every line;...
As some fond virgin, whom her mother's care Drags from the town to wholesome country air, Just when she learns to roll a melting eye, And hear a spark, yet think no danger nigh;...
Such were the notes thy once-loved Poet sung, Till Death untimely stopp'd his tuneful tongue. Oh just beheld and lost! admired and mourn'd! With softest manners, gentlest arts adorn'd!...
To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art, draw near; Here lies the friend most loved, the son most dear: Who ne'er knew joy, but friendship might divide, Or gave his father grief but when he died. ...
A pleasing form; a firm, yet cautious mind; Sincere, though prudent; constant, yet resign'd: Honour unchanged, a principle profess'd, Fix'd to one side, but moderate to the rest:...
Jacobus Craggs Regi Magnae Britannia A Secretis Et Consiliis Sanctioribus, Principis Pariter Ac Populi Amor Et Deliciae: Vixit Titulis Et Invidia Major Annos, Heu Paucos, Xxxv. Ob. Feb. Xvi. Mdccxx. ...
Here, Withers, rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind, Thy country's friend, but more of human kind. Oh, born to arms! oh, worth in youth approved! Oh, soft humanity, in age beloved!...
Kneller, by Heaven, and not a master, taught, Whose art was Nature, and whose pictures Thought; Now for two ages having snatch'd from Fate Whate'er was beauteous, or whate'er was great,...
Thy relics, 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 shall guide inquiring eyes....
Here rests a woman, good without pretence, Blest with plain reason, and with sober sense: No conquests she, but o'er herself, desired, No arts essay'd, but not to be admired....
Yes, we have lived--one pang, and then we part! May Heaven, dear father! now have all thy heart. Yet ah! how once we loved, remember still, Till you are dust like me.
Of manners gentle, of affections mild; In wit, a man; simplicity, a child: With native humour tempering virtuous rage, Form'd to delight at once and lash the age: Above temptation in a low estate,...