XIII.

EPITAPH

On Mrs. MARGARET PASTON, of Burningham, in Norfolk.

So fair, so young, so innocent, so sweet,

So ripe a judgment, and so rare a wit,
Require at least an age, in one, to meet.
In her they met; but long they could not stay,
'Twas gold too fine to mix* without allay.
Heav'n's image was in her so well exprest,
Her very sight upbraided all the rest;
Too justly ravish'd from an age like this,
Now she is gone, the world is of a piece.

XIV.

On the Monument of the Marquis of WINCHESTER
He who, in impious times, undaunted stood,
And, 'midst rebellion, durst be just and good;
Whose arms asserted,—and whose suff'rings more
Confirm'd the cause for which he fought before;
Rests here, rewarded by an heav'nly prince,
For what his earthly could not recompense.
Pray, reader! that such times no more appear;
Or, if they happen, learn true honour, here.
Ask of this age's faith and loyalty,

Which, to preserve them, Heav'n confin'd in

thee.

*The Editor proposes to read last.

Few subjects could a king like thine deserve; And fewer such a king so well could serve. Bless'd king! bless'd subject! whose exalted state By suff'rings rose; and gave the law to Fate. Such souls are rare; but mighty patterns giv'n To earth; and meant for ornaments to heav'n.

EPITAPH.

INTENDED FOR DRYDEN'S WIFE.

HERE lies my wife: here let her lie!

Now she's at rest; and so am I.

[60]

EPIGRAMS.

EPIGRAMMATIC LINES

Under MILTON's Picture before Paradise Lost.

TH

HREE poets, in three distant ages born,
Greece, Italy, and England, did adorn.
The first in loftiness of thought surpast;
The next, in majesty; in both, the last.
The force of Nature could no further go;
To make a third, she join'd the former two.

EPIGRAM

On the Duchess of PORTSMOUTH's Picture. SURE we do live by Cleopatra's age, Since Sunderland does govern now the stage: She of Septimius had nothing made; Pompey, alone, had been by her betray'd. Were she a poet, she would surely boast, That all the world for pearls had well been lost,

W

Description of old JACOB TONSON*.

ITH leering look, bull-fac'd and freckled fair, With two left legs, with Judas-colour'd hair, And frowzy pores that taint the ambient air.—

* On Tonson's refusing to give Dryden the price he asked for his Virgil, the Poet sent him the above; and added, "Tell him "that he who wrote them, can write inore." The Money was paid.

End of Dryden's Original Poetry.