VERSES left by Mr. POPE, on his lying in the fame Bed which WILMOT the celebrated Earl of Rochester slept in, at Adderbury, then belonging to the Duke of Argyle, July 9th, 1739.

WITH

ITH no poetic ardour fir'd
I press the bed where Wilmot lay;
That here he lov'd, or here expir'd,
Begets no numbers grave, or gay.
But in thy roof, Argyle, are bred
Such thoughts as prompt the brave to lie
Stretch'd out in honour's nobler bed,
Beneath a nobler roof-the sky.

Such flames as high in patriots burn,
Yet stoop to bless a child or wife;
And such as wicked kings may mourn,
When freedom is more dear than life.

F

VERSES то MR. C.

ST. JAMES'S PLACE.

LONDON, OCTOBER 22.

EW words are best; I wish you well;
Bethel, I 'm told, will soon be here:

Some morning-walks along the Mall,
And evening friends, will end the year.
If, in this interval, between

The falling leaf and coming froft,
You please to fee, on Twit'nam green,
Your friend, your poet, and your hoft;
For three whole days you here may rest,
From office, business, news, and ftrife;
And (what most folks would think a jest)
Want nothing else, except your wife.

EPITAPHS.

D

ORSET, the Grace of Courts, the Muses' Pride, Patron of Arts, and judge of Nature, dy'd. The fcourge of Pride, though fanctified or great, Of Fops in Learning, and of Knaves in State: Yet soft his Nature, though fevere his Lay, His Anger moral, and his Wisdom gay. Bleft Satirist! who touch'd the Mean so true, As show'd, Vice had his hate and pity too. Bleft Courtier! who could King and Country please, Yet sacred keep his Friendships, and his ease. Bleft Peer! his great Forefathers every grace Reflecting, and reflected in his Race;

Where other BUCKHURSTS, Other DORSETS shine, And Patrons still, or Poets, deck the Line.

VOL. XLVI.

Bb

II. On

On Sir WILLIAM TRUMBAL,

One of the principal Secretaries of State to King WILLIAM III. who, having resigned his place, died in his Retirement at Easthamsted in Berkshire, 1716.

A Pleasing Form;

a firm, yet cautious Mind;

Sincere, though prudent; conftant, yet resign'd:

Honour unchang'd, a Principle profeft,

Fix'd to one fide, but moderate to the rest:

An honeft 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 Superftition 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.

III. On

III.

On the Hon. SIMON HARCOURT, Only Son of the Lord Chancellor HARCOURT, at the Church of Stanton-Harcourt in Oxfordshire, 1720.

T

O this fad shrine, 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 inscribe thy Stone,
And, with a Father's forrows, mix his own!

IV.

On JAMES CRAGGS, Esq.

In Westminster-Abbey.

JACOBUS CRAGGS,

REGI MAGNE BRITANNIE A SECRETIS ET CONSILIIS SANCTIORIBUS, PRINCIPISPARITER 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, serv'd no private End,
Who gain'd no Title, and who lost no Friend,