2 Flourish'd in so fair a growth; So sweet the temple was, that shrined The soft tincture of a tear, Tears would now have flowed so deep, Would quite have lost the cruel fashion. Him when Wrath itself had seen Instead of striking, would have gazed. That notes the tragic dooms of men, Would have learned a softer style, In the dark volume of our fate, Whence each leaf of life hath date, The total sum of man appears; And the short clause of mortal breath, Bound in the period of Death: In all the book, if anywhere Such a term as this, Spare here, て Could have been found, 'twould have been read, Writ in white letters o'er his head: Or close unto his name annexed, The fair gloss of a fairer text. But he, alas! even he is dead, All the tears that Grief can lend. In his ashes all her pride; With this inscription o'er his head : his Epitaph. Passenger, whoe'er thou art, Stay awhile, and let thy heart Но This stone will tell thee, that beneath Had their general meeting-place. The splendour of his birth and blood. Was but the gloss of his own good. The flourish of his sober youth Was the pride of naked truth. Lived a fair, but manly grace; His mouth was Rhetoric's best mould, His tongue the touchstone of her gold; What word soe'er his breath kept warm, Was no word now but a charm: г For all persuasive Graces thence Him while fresh and fragrant Time Ere Hebe's hand had overlaid His smooth cheeks with a downy shade; Swept him off into his grave. Enough, now (if thou canst) pass on, For now (alas!) not in this stone (Passenger, whoe'er thou art) Is he entomb'd, but in thy heart. -:0: An Epitaph upon Doctor Brook. A Brook, whose stream so great, so good, Was loved, was honour'd as a flood: Here at length hath gladly found A quiet passage under ground; :0: An Epitaph upon Mr. Ashton, a Conformable Citizen. The modest front of this small floor, Believe me, Reader, can say more Than many a braver marble can, One whose conscience was a thing Those to the eye than to the ear. His prayers took their price and strength Not only in despite of Rome. He loved his Father; yet his zeal |