In a Country Church-Yard, Devon.
Deep in the earth, beneath this stone,
Rot honest John and faithful Joan.
Though no gay monument arise,

This humble stone shews where they lie,
Bids us like them be just and wise,

Like them to live, like them to die.

No flattery is written here;

Their friends all say so with a tear.

In memory of George Clark, Esq. Ob. 14 Aug. 1668, buried in Hackney Church..

If any desire to be nie,

Pray let my bones in quiet ly,

Till Christ come in the cloudy sky,

Who will us all both judge and trie.

In Hackney Church Yard, on Peninnah Juckes, 1716.

A maid of eighteen

We have laid in this green,

To rest herself here a short space,

And after that time,

This rose in her prime,

Shall rise up again by God's grace.

IN CHICHESTER CATHEDRAL.

This Monument was erected by Voluntary Subscrip
tion in honor of WILLIAM COLLINS,
Who was born in this City 1721,

And died in a house adjoining the Cloisters
of this Church, 1756.

On this Monument, finely executed by Flaxman, Collins is represented as just recovered from a wild fit of phrensy, to which he was unhappily subject, în a calm and reclining posture, seeking refuge from his misfortunes in he consolations of the Gospel, while his lyre and one of his first poems lie neglected on the ground. Above are two beautiful figures of Love and Pity entwined in euch others arms.

Ye who the merits of the dead revere,

Who hold misfortune's sacred genius dear,
Regard this tomb, where Collins, hapless name,
Solicits kindness with a double claim.

'Tho' nature gave him, and tho' science taught
The fire of fancy, and the reach of thought,
Severely doom'd to penury's extreme,

He pass'd in madd'ning pain life's fev'rish dream,
While rays of genius only serv'd to shew
The thick'ning horror, and exalt his woe.
Ye walls that echo'd to his frantic moan,
Guard the due records of this grateful stone;
Strangers to him, enamour'd of his lays,
This fond memorial of his talents raise.
For this the ashes of a bard require,

Who touch'd the tend'rest notes of Pity's lyre;
C

Who join'd pure faith to strong poetic powers,
Who, in reviving reason's lucid hours,

Sought on one book his troubled mind to rest,
And rightly deem'd the book of God the best.

Collins after his return from France, was at Islington, where a friend paid him a visit; there was then nothing of disorder discernable in his mind by any but himself; but he had withdrawn from study, and travelled with no other book than an English Testament, such as children carry to school: when his friend took it into his hand, out of curiosity to see what companion, a man of letters had chosen, I have but one book," said Collins, but that is the best."

See Collins' Poems, Pub. hy Sharpe.

On a Child.

Here she lies a pretty bud,

Lately made of flesh and blood :
Who, as soon fell fast asleep,

As her little eyes did peep;

Give her strewings; but not stir
The earth that lightly covers her.

On a very wicked Man, who was killed by a fall from his Horse.

"Between the stirrup and the ground,

I mercy ask'd, I mercy found."

IN LUDGVAN CHURCH, CORNWALL.

By the smallness of this Table,
Judge not, reader, of that loss
Which it deplores.

Chr. Borlase, a youth of sweet and amiable disposition,

Choosing the life of a sailor,

And making quick advances to deserve
The honours of his profession,

Died, neither by the fury of war,
(In which he was engaged four years)
Nor by the dangerous element
On which he served his country,
But by a fever.

Like a fair flower that had survived
The winter's hail and storms
Reserved to be gathered, not torn off,
In time of Peace,

He was taken by God to himself,
On the coast of Guinea, Feb. 21, 1749.
His affectionate Parents, deprived of a most hopeful

Son,

And unable to pay him the proper funeral duties,
Engrave their remembrance of him
In this plate:

Contented because such was the will of God.

ON PAUL WHITEHEAD, Ese.

Who was born Jan. 25, 1710, and died Dec. 30, 1774.
Here lies a man misfortune could not bend,
Prais'd as a poet, honour'd as a friend!

Tho' his youth kindled with the love of fame,
Within his bosom glow'd a brighter flame!
Whene'er his friends with sharp afflictions bled,
And from the wounded deer the herd' was fled,
Whitehead stood forth, the healing balm applied,
Nor quitted their distresses-till he died.

ON AN URN,

In which the Heart of Paul Whitehead, Esq. was deposited, and which is placed on a Mausoleum at West Wykeham, the seat of Lord le Despencer.

PAUL WHITEHEAD, Esa.

of Twickenham,

Obiit December 30,

1774.

Unhallow'd hands, this Urn forbear:

No gems, nor orient spoil

Lie here conceal'd-but, what's more rare,
A heart that knows no guile