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Ah no! a shepherd of a different stock,
their chace, to cheer them, or to chide;
Silence was pleas'd: 'now glow'd'the 'firmament
On Mr. Fenton. This modest stone, what few vain marbles can, May truly say, "Here lies an honest man.” A poet, bless'd beyond the poet's fate, Whom heaven kept sacred from the proud and great.
Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease,
peace, Calmly he look'd on either life, and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear; From nature's temp’rate feast rose satisfied, Thank'd heav'n that he had liv'd, and that he died.
On Sir Isaac Newton.
Nature and nature's laws, lay hid in night; God said, “ Let Newton be!" and all was light.
On Mr. Gay.
These are thy honours! not that here thy bust
To a young
On Mr. Edmund Burke. Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was
such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for man.
kind. Though fraught with all learning, yet straining
his throat, To persuade Tommy Townsend to lend him a vote;
Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on re
fining, And thought of convincing, while they thought
of dining; Though equal to all things, for all things unfit, Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit; For a patriot too cool; for a drudge disobedient; And too fond of the right, to pursue the expedient. In short, 'twas his fate unemploy'd, or in place,
Sir, To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor.
On Mr. Cumberland *.
Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts,
His gallants are all faultless, his women divine, And comedy wonders at being so fine:
* Mr. Richard Cumberland, author of the West Indian, Fashionable Lover, the Brothers, and other dramatic pieces, 02