HIGH WYCOMBE, BUCKS. 1 ON JOHN VEARY. COULD the proud swelling dome, or awful bust, Or bribe in truth's despite the voice of fame, The duties of each state he well supplied, The rest thy conscious soul itself supplies.. ་་་་་་་་་ IN A CHURCH-YARD IN KENT. How awful is the scene while here I tread! ON A YOUNG CLERGYMAN, IN LONDON. STRANGER, should'st thou approach this awful shrine, O let them in some pause of anguish say, What zeal inspir'd, what faith enlarg'd his breast; How soon th' unfetter'd spirit wing'd its way, From earth to heav'n, from blessing, to be blest. KENSINGTON CHURCH-YARD. ON MARY FLETCHER, Æ. 65, 1763. DEAN PRIOR, DEVON. ON SIR EDWARD GILES, AND HIS LADY. No trust to metals nor to marbles, when What more than these can tombs and tombstones pay ? But here's the sunset of a tedious day; These two asleep are, I'll but be undrest, And so to bed; pray wish us all good rest. ABERGAVENNY CHURCH. HERE lyeth one of Abel's race, Whom Cain did hunt from place to place; Yet not dismaid, aboot he went, Working untill his daies were spent. Now having done, he takes a nap, Here, in our cominon mother's lap, Waiting to heare the bridegroom say, "Arise my deare, and come away." Obiit Hen. Maurice, 30 die Julie, 1682. HIGH WYCOMBE, BUCKS. ON ELIZA ANN MATHIE, Who had been six Months married. SPRINGS and summers scarce nineteen When Death, as envying that the earth Snatch'd her from her husband's side- If partial Fate, which now we blame, INTENDED BY MR. PRIOR FOR HIS OWN MONUMENT. As doctors give physic by way of prevention, MATT. alive and in health, of his tomb-stone took care; For delays are unsafe, and his pious intention Then take MATT's word for it the sculptor is paid; That the figure is fine,* pray believe your own eye; Yet credit but lightly what more may be said, For we flatter ourselves, and teach marble to lie. Yet, counting as far as to fifty his years, His virtues and vices were as other mens are; High hopes he conceiv'd, and he smother'd great fears, In a life party-colour'd-half pleasure, half care. Nor to business a drudge, nor to faction a slave, He strove to make Int'rest and Freedom agree; In public employments industrious and grave; But, alone with his friends, Lord! how merry was he! Now in equipage stately; now humbly on foot; Both fortunes he try'd, but to neither would trust, And whirl'd in the round, as the wheel turn'd about, He found riches had wings, and knew man was but dust. This verse, little polish'd, though mighty sincere, Sets neither his titles nor merits to view : Alluding to the busto (carved by the famous Coriveaux at Paris) on his monument in Westminster Abbey. It says that his relics, collected, lie here, And no mortal yet knows if this may be true. Fierce robbers there are, that infest the highway, SO MATT. may be kill'd, and his bones never found; False witness at court, and fierce tempests at sea, So MATT. may yet chance to be hang'd or be drown'd. If his bones lie in earth, roll in sea, fly in air, To Fate we must yield, and the thing is the same; And if, passing, thou giv'st him a smile or a tear, He cares not-yet pr'ythee be kind to his fame. ON PRIOR. By Mr. Beckingham. MEAN artifice! to gild precarious fame! True merit does to heights unlabour'd climb, Venus and Ammon, in his colours shewn, ON WILLIAM LAWES, A MUSICIAN. Concord is conquer'd; in this urn there lies Will Lawes was slain by those whose Wills are |