To be written under the Latin Infcription upon the Tomb of the only Son of the Lord ANDOVER.

"T

IS fit the English reader should be told,

In our own language, what this tomb does hold.

'Tis not a noble córpfe alone does lie

Under this stone, but a whole family:

His parents' pious care, their name, their joy,
And all their hope, lies buried with this boy :
This lovely youth! for whom we all made moan,
That knew his worth, as he had been our own.

Had there been space, and years enough allow'd,
His courage, wit, and breeding to have show'd,
We had not found, in all the numerous roll
Of his fam'd ancestors, a greater foul:
His early virtues to that ancient stock

Gave as much honour as from thence he took.
Like buds appearing ere the frofts are past,
To become man he made fuch fatal hafte;
And to perfection labour'd so to climb,
Preventing flow experience and time;

That 'tis no wonder death our hopes beguil'd:
He's feldom old, that will not be a child.

EPITAPH, UNFINISHED..

GR

REAT foul! for whom death will no longer stay,
But fends in hafte to fnatch our blifs

away.
O cruel death! to those you take more kind,
Than to the wretched mortals left behind!
Here beauty, youth, and noble virtue shin'd;
Free from the clouds of pride that shade the mind.
Infpired verse may on this marble live,
But can no honour to thy ashes give.-

THE

H

EPITA AP H

On HENRY DUNCH, Efq;

In Newington Church in Oxfordshire, 1686,

ERE lies the prop and glory of his race,

Who, that no time his memory may deface,
His grateful wife, under this speaking stone
His afhes hid, to make his merit known.
Sprung from an opulent and worthy line,
Whose well-us'd fortune made their virtues fhine,
A rich example his fair life did give,
How others should with their relations live.
A pious fon, a husband, and a friend,
To neighbours too his bounty did extend
So far, that they lamented when he died,
As if all to him had been near allied.

His curious youth would men and manners know,
Which made him to the southern nations go..
Nearer the fun, though they more civil feem,,
Revenge and luxury have their esteem ;
Which well obferving, he return'd with more
Value for England than he had before ;
Her true religion, and her statutes too,
He practifed not less than seek'd to know ;

And the whole country griev'd for their ill fate,,
To lose so good, so just a magistrate.
To shed a tear may readers be inclin'd,
And pray for one he only left behind ;
Till the who does inherit his eftate,
May virtue love like him, and vices hate..

THE

THE

EPITAPH

O N

MR. WALLER'S MONUMENT,

In Beconsfield Church-yard in Buckinghamshire; Written by Mr. RYMER, late Hiftoriographer-royal.

ON THE WEST END.

EDMUNDI WALLER HIC JACET ID QUANTUM MORTI CESSIT; QUI INTER POETAS SUI TEMPORIS FACILE PRINCEPS, LAUREAM, QUAM MERUIT ADOLESCENS, OCTOGENARIUS HAUD ABDICAVIT. HUIC DEBET PATRIA LINGUA QUOD CREDAS, SI GRÆCE LATINEQUE INTERMITTERENT, MUSÆ LOQUI AMARENT ANGLICE.