HACKNEY CHURCH-YARD.

ON SIR HENRY ROWE,

Lord Mayor of London, who died in 1612. HEER Under Find of Adams First Defection, Rests In The Hope of Happie Resurrection, Sir Henry Rowe, Sonne of Sir Thos. Rowe, And of Dame Mary, His Deer Yoak Fellowe; Knight & Right Worthy (as His Father Late) Lord Maior of London, With His Vertuous Mate Dame Susanne, (His Twice Fifteen Yeers & Seaven) Their Issue Five Surviving of Eleaven)

Fower Named Heer; In Theis Fower Names Fore
Past,

The Fifth Is Found, If Echo Sound The Last;
Sad Orphans All, But Most Their Heire Most Debtor,
Who Built Them This, But In His Heart a Better.

His ancestors were severally Lord Mayors of London, Sir Thomas in 1568-Sir William in 1592— and Sir Henry, the subject of the preceding lines, in 1607.

ON THE DEATH OF

STEPHEN REMNANT, ESQ.
Of Woolwich.

HERE'S a Remnant of life, and a Remnant of death,
Taken off both at once in a Remnant of breath.
To mortality this gives a happy release,

For what was the Remnant, proves now the whole piece.

ALL-HALLOWS, BREAD STREET.

ON MR. HUMPHREY LEVINS,

Who died in 1682, and on his Son, aged fourteen, both buried in the same grave.

WHICH Shall we weep? Both merit tears; yet sure
Tears are but vain where bliss is so secure.
Which shall we praise? Our eulogy can't add
Unto the bless'd, who God's kind euge had.
Our duty's but to imitate and admire
This happy pair of the celestial choir.

ON JOAN TRUEMAN,

Who had an issue in her leg.

HERE lyes crafty Joan, deny it who can,
Who liv'd a false maid, and dy'd a Trueman;
And this trick she had to make up her cunning,
Whilst one leg stood still, the other was running.

ON D'ABLANCOURT,

The French Translator.

HERE lies D'ABLANCOURT! that renowned sage,
Whose genius, like a torch, illum'd his age.
By him, in French attire, each classic shone;
He made all Athens, and all Rome our own,
"Tis hard to say- -when his great spirit fled,
Who lost the most-the living or the dead

To the memory of that ancient servant to the city, with his pen, in divers employments, especially the Survey of London,

MASTER ANTHONY MUNDAY,

CITIZEN AND DRAPER OF LONDON.

* HE that hath many an ancient tombstone read,
Th' labour seeming more among the dead
To live, than with the living-that survey'd
Abstruse antiquities, and o'er them laid

Such vive and beauteous colours with his pen ;
That, spite of time, those old are new again,
Under this marble lies interr'd; his tomb
Claiming (as worthily it may) this room.
Among those many monuments his quill
Has so revived, helping now to fill

A place (with those) in his survey, in which
He has a monument, more fair, more rich
Than polish'd stones could make him, where he
lies,

Though dead, still living, and in that ne'er dies.

ON JOVIANUS PONTANUS,

Who died in 1505.

WHEN living I prepared this house to rest in after death. I beseech thee injure not him who never injured any. I am Jovianus Pontanus, whom honest men loved, and kings and lords esteemed. You know who I am, or rather who I was: but I, good stranger, cannot know thee in this darkness: pray heaven, thou may'st know thyself. Farewell.

In the Subterranean Chapel, in the Church of St. Maria Scala Cali, Rome, is a Latin Inscription, in English thus:

"HERE rest the bodies of St. Zeno, and his twelve thousand two hundred soldiers."

These are the twelve thousand two hundred Christians (precisely) who remained of the forty thousand that had been employed for the space of seven years, in building Dioclesian's baths; and who, after the finishing of that immense work, received no other recompence for their toil and labour than a cruel death, which they suffered by the tyrant's order, on the same spot where this church now stands.

FERRARA CATHEDRAL.

ON GYRALDUS LILIUS.

PASSENGER, what do you stop at? You see here the tomb of Gyraldus Lilius, who experienced both pages of Fortune's book, but profited only by the worst, by the help of Apollo, making no use of the other. More to know concerns neither him nor thee: be gone about your business. Erected by Lilius Gregorius Gyraldus, mindful of Mortality, in the year of our Lord 1550, and of his age 72.

. ON VOSSIUS.

On this tomb weep Piety and Virtue; on this tomb Learning is grown marble with grief. Envious Death smiles; and so does Vossius, who has conquered Death by his pen and his wit.

ON A FEMALE DRUNKARD.

ARRESTED by death,
Lies a female beneath,

Who, when living, ne'er flinch'd from her glass; And at the last day,

The first words she will say

Are, drink my boys! let the toast pass.

Nay, weep not my friend,

Lament not her end,

Soon or late we all come to it must;
Let malice and spleen,
Mourn alone o'er their queen,

For here she lies mould'ring to dust.

ON JENKIN DASHES.

HERE lies the collier Jenkin Dashes,

By whom death nothing gain'd, he swore; For living he was dust and ashes,

And dead he was no more.

IN A CHURCH-YARD IN WILTSHIRE.

BENEATH this steane lies our dear child, who's gone from We,

For evermore, unto Eternity;

Where Us do hope, that We shall go to He,
But Him can ne'er go back again to We.