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INTENDED FOR SIR ISAAC NEWTON.

In Westminster Abbey.

ISAACUS NEWTONUS:

QUEM IMMORTALEM

TESTANTUR TEMPUS, NATURA, CŒLUM,

MORTALEM

HOC MARMOR FATETUR.

NATURE and nature's laws lay hid in night :
God said, 'Let Newton be!' and all was light.

ON DR. FRANCIS ATTERBURY,

BISHOP OF ROCHESTER,

Who died in Exile in Paris, 1732.

[His only daughter having expired in his arms, immediately after she arrived in France to see him.]

DIALOGUE.

She. 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.

He. Dear shade! I will:

Then mix this dust with thine-O spotless ghost!
O more than fortune, friends, or country lost!
Is there on earth one care, one wish beside?
Yes-Save my ¡country, Heaven,'—He said, and
died.

ON EDMUND DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM,

Who died in the 19th year of his age, 1735.

1r modest youth with cool reflection crown'd,
And every opening virtue blooming round,
Could save a parent's justest pride from fate,
Or add one patriot to a sinking state;
This weeping marble had not ask'd thy tear,
Or sadly told how many hopes lie here!
The living virtue now had shone approved,
The senate heard him, and his country loved.
Yet softer honours, and less noisy fame
Attend the shade of gentle Buckingham:
In whom a race, for courage famed and art,
Ends in the milder merit of the heart;
And, chiefs or sages long to Britain given,
Pays the last tribute of a saint to Heaven.

FOR ONE WHO WOULD NOT BE BURIED IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

HEROES and kings! your distance keep;

In pace let one poor poet sleep,
Who never flatter'd folks like you:

Let Horace blush, and Virgil too.

ANOTHER OF THE SAME.

UNDER this marble, or under this sill,
Or under this turf, or e'en what they will:
Whatever an heir, or a friend in his stead,

Or any good creature shall lay o'er my head;
Lies one who ne'er cared, and still cares not a pin,
What they said, or may say, of the mortal within :
But who, living and dying, serene still and free,
Trusts in God, that as well as he was, he shall be.

LORD CONINGSBY'S EPITAPH.

HERE lies Lord Coningsby-be civil:
The rest God knows--so does the devil.

ON BUTLER'S MONUMENT.

Perhaps by Mr. Pope.

RESPECT to Dryden, Sheffield justly paid,
And noble Villers honour'd Cowley's shade:
But whence this Barber?-that a name so mean
Should, join'd with Butler's, on a tomb be seen:
This pyramid would better far proclaim,
To future ages humbler Settle's name:
Poet and patron then had been well pair'd,
The city printer, and the city bard.

END OF VOLUME II.

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