Bid them in Duty's Sphere as meekly move;
And if fo fair, from Vanity as free;
As firm in Friendship, and as fond in Love,
Tell them, tho' 'tis an awful Thing to die.
('Twas ev'n to thee) yet the dread Path once trod,
Heav'n lifts its everlasting Portals high,
And bids the "Pure in Heart behold their God:"
On the Countefs Dowager of Pembroke.
NDERNEATH this Marble Hearfe
Lies the Subject of all Verfe,
Sydney's Sifter, Pembroke's Mother;
Death, ere thou haft kill'd another,
Fair and learn'd, and good as fhe,
Time fhall throw a Dart at Thee.
An EPITAPH, by BEN. JOHNSON.
NDERNEATH this Stone doth lie
As much Virtue as cou'd die
Which when alive did Vigour give
To as much Beauty as cou'd live.
NELLER, by Heav'n, and not a Mafter taught,. 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, Refts crown'd with Princes Honours, Poets Lays Due to his Merit, and brave Thirst of Praife.
Living, great Nature fear'd he might outvie
Her Works; and dying, fears herself may die.
On the Czar Peter the Great, PLAIN DEALER.
Here under Depofited
Lies All that cou'd die, of a Man Immortal,
ALEXIOVITZ:
It is almost fuperfluous to add
GREAT EMPEROR OF RUSSIA:
A Title!
Which, inftead of adding to his Glory,
Became Glorious by His wearing it.
Let Antiquity be dumb,
Nor boast her ALEXANDER,
Or her CÆSAR.
How caly was Victory
To Leaders, who were followed by Heroes! And whofe Soldiers felt a noble Disdain, To be thought lefs awake than their Generals! But HE,
Who, in this Place, firft knew Reft,
Found Subjects Bafe, and Unactive,
Unwarlike, Unlearn'd, Untractable,
Neither covetous of Fame,
Nor liberal of Danger;
Creatures, with the Names of Men,
But with Qualities rather Brutal than Rational:
Yet, even Thefe
He polifh'd from their native Ruggedness,
And, breaking out, like a New SuN.
To illuminate the Minds of a People,
Difpell'd their Night of Hereditary Darkness:
'Till, by Force of his invincible Influence.
He taught them to conquer
Even the Conquerors of Germany.
Other Princes have commanded victorious Armies,
This Commander created them!
Blush, O ART!
At a Hero, who ow'd Thee Nothing.
Exult, O NATURE!
For Thine was this Prodigy.
The Infcription on Shakespear's Monument, taken from
HE Cloud-capt Towers, the gorgeous Palaces,
Yea, all which it inherit, fhall diffolve,
And like the bafelefs Fabric of a Vifion,
Leave not a Wreck behind.
Ode to Charity, By Mifs H. MORE.
CHARITY, divinely Wife,
Thou meek-ey'd Daughter of the Skies!
From the pure Fountain of eternal Light,
Where fair, immutable, and ever bright,
The beatific Vision fhines,
And Angel with Archangel joins
In choral Songs to fing his Praife,
PARENT OF LIFE, ANCIENT OF DAYS!
Who was ere Time existed, and shall be
Thro' the wide Round of vaft Eternity.
O come, thy warm Benevolence impart,
Enlarge my Feelings, and expand my Heart!
O thou, enthron'd in Realms above,
Bright Effluence of that boundless Love,
Whence Joy and Peace in Streams unfallied flow,
O deign to make thy lov'd Abode below!
Tho' fweeter Strains pour'd from my Tongue,
Than Saint conceiv'd, or Seraph fung,
And tho' my glowing Fancy caught
Whatever Art or Nature taught,
Yet, if this hard unfeeling Heart of mine
Ne'er felt thy Force, O CHARITY divine!
An empty Shadow Science would be found,
My Knowledge Ignorance, my Wit a Sound.
Tho' my prophetic Spirit knew
To bring Futurity to View,
Without thy aid e'en this would nought avail,
For Tongues fhall ceafe, and Prophecies fhall fail:
Come then, thou sweet celeftial Guest,
Shed thy, foft Influence o'er my Breaft,
Bring with thee FAITH divinely bright,
And HOPE, fair Harbinger of Light,
To clear each Milt with their pervading Ray,
To fit my Soul for Heav'n, and point the Way.
Where perfect Happiness her Sway maintains,
For there the GOD OF PEACE for ever, ever reigns.
Virtue the only Nobility.
ET High-birth triumph! What can be more great?
but Merit in a low Estate.
To Virtue's humblest Son let none prefer
Vice, tho' defcended from the Conqueror.
Shall Men, like Figures, pafs for high, or bafe,
Slight or important, only by their Place ?
Titles are Marks of honest Men and wife:
The Fool, or Knave, that wears a Title, lyes.
Nothing is meaner than a Wretch of State,
*The Good and Pious are the only Great.
There is a fmall Alteration here.
E Vain! defist from your erroneous Strife;
Be wife, and quit the false Sublime of Life. The true Ambition there alone refides,
Where Justice dictates, and where Wisdom guides;
Where inward Dignity joins outward State,
Our Purpofe good, as our Atchievement great ;
Where public Bleffings public Praise attend,
Where Glory is our Motive, not our End.
Would't thou be fam'd? Keep thofe high Deeds in
Brave Men would act, tho' Scandal should enfue.
7HAT can be emptier than the Chace of Fame?
How vain the Prize? how impotent our Aim?
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