As Plato lov'd; such as with holy zeal
Our Milton worshipp'd. Blessed hopes! awhile
From man withheld, even to the latter days,
When Christ shall come and all things be fullfill'd.

Henry Marten, Esq. having one day in the house of commons made a long invective against Sir Harry Vane the elder, he continued, "But as for young Sir Harry-" and sate down. Several persons cried out, " And pray what have you to say to young Sir Harry?"" Why, if young Sir Harry lives long enough, he will be old Sir Harry, that is all;" and then sat down again.

Oliver Cromwell, one day in the house of commons, called him in a scoffing manner Sir Henry Marten; Mr. Marten rises and bows to Cromwell, adding, "I thank your majesty; I always thought that when you were king, I should be knighted."

Alderman

He was wont to sleep in the house of commons. Atkins made a motion, that such scandalous members as slept, and did not attend to the business of the house, should be expelled. Marten starts up directly, and says, "Mr. Speaker, a motion has been just made to turn the nodders out of the house; I desire that the noddees may be included."

On a Gamester's Tomb-Stone.

Here lies the body of all fours,

Who lost his money and pawn'd his cloaths;
If that you want to know his name,

"Tis highest, lowest, jack, and game.

Designed for a Stone in the Church Yard of Haddington, upon a youth who died of a decline.

;

Reader, if e'er you priz'd a fav'rite flow'r,
That droop'd untimely from some latent pow'r ;
If oft with pleasure you its form survey'd,
And blest the tree that lent its friendly shade
Or watch'd the sunny ray or morning dew,
That on its face a flatt'ring lustre threw;
Then here again recall the tender strife,
This flower faded in the spring of life;
As yours admir'd, lamented, and belov'd,
It left this earth, to happier climes remov'd.

NEWINGTON, OLD CHURCH.

On Mr. and Mrs. DAY.

Though from this state of animated clay,
The path prove painful, or obscure the way;
Through death to life, the pass once gain'd,
The conflict ended, and the prize attain'd.

That prize celestial where no storm assails,
No ills approach, nor aught but joy prevails;
Lament not then the excellence that's gone,
Nor shade with grief the glories it has won.

Bid the big heart repress its burning throws,
For ever torn from whom its motion flows;
Ah! yet immortal pair, to parents, friends, like you,
One mournful tear, admit the last long, long adieu.

At Stanton-Harcourt, in Oxfordshire,

The seat of Lord Harcourt, which overlooks a common field, where under the shade of a haycock, sat two lovers, as constant as ever were found in Romance, beneath a spreading beech. The name of the one was John Hewet, of the other Sarah Drew. John was a well-set man about five-and twenty; Sarah a brown woman of eighteen. Jolin had for several months borne the labour of the day in the same field with Sarah; when she milked, it was his morning and evening charge to bring the cows to her pail. Their love was the talk, but not the scandal, of the whole neighbourhood; for all, they aimed at was the blameless possession of each other in marriage. It was but this very morning that he had obtained her parents' consent, and it was but till the next week that they were to wait to be happy. Perhaps this very day, in, the intervals of their work, they were talking of their wedding clothes; and John, was now matching several kinds of poppies and field-flowers to her complexion, to make her a present of knots for the day. While they were thus employed (it was on the last of July, 1718,) a terrible storm of thunder and lightning arose, and drove the labourers to what shelter the trees ar: hedges afforded. Sarah frighted and out of breath, sunkon.a haycock, and John (who never separated from her by her side, having raked two or three heaps together to secure her. Immediately there was

:

heard so loud a crack as if heaven had burst asunder. The labourers all solicitous for each others safety, called to one another those that were nearest our lovers, hearing no answer, stept to the place where they lay: they first saw a little smoke, and after, this faithful pair;-John, with one arm about his Sarah's neck, and the other held over her face, as if to screen her from the lightning. They were struck dead, and already grown stiff and cold in this tender posture. There was no mark or discolouring on their bodies, only that Sarah's eye-brow was a little singed, and a small spot between her breasts. They were buried the next day in one grave, in the parish of Stanton-Harcourt in Oxfordshire; where my lord Harcourt, at my request, (Mr. Pope's) has erected a monument over them. Of the following epitaphs which I made, the critics have chosen the godly one.

When Eastern lovers feed the fun'ral fire,

On the same pile their faithful fair expire;
Here pitying Heav'n that virtue mutual found,
And blasted both, that it might' neither wound.
Hearts so sincere th' Almighty saw well pleas'd,
Sent his own lightning, and the victims seiz'd.

Think not, by rig'rous judgment seiz'd,
A pair so faithful could expire;
Victims so pure Heav'n saw well pleas'd,
And snatch'd them in celestial fire.

Live well and fear no sudden fate:
When God calls virtue to the grave,

Alike 'tis justice, soon or late,.

Mercy alike to kill or save..

Virtue unmov'd can hear the call,
And face the flash that melts the ball,

Lady M. W. Montagu's reply to Mr. Pope.

I must applaud your good nature, in supposing, that your pastoral lovers (vulgarly called hay-makers) would have lived in everlasting joy and harmony, if the lightning had not interrupted their scheme of happiness, I see no reason to imagine, that John Hughes and Sarah Drew were either wiser or more virtuous than their neighbours. That a well-set man of twentyfive should have a fancy to marry a brown woman of eighteen, is nothing marvelous; and I cannot help thinking, that had they married, their lives would have passed in the common track with their own fellow parishioners. His endeavouring to shield her from a storm, was a natural action, and what he would have

certainly done for his horse, if he had

been in the same situa

tion. Neither am I of opinion, that their sudden death was a reward of their mutual virtue. You know the Jews were reproved for thinking a village destroyed by fire more wicked than those that had escaped the thunder. Time and chance happen to all men. Since you desire me to try my skill in an epitaph, I think the following lines perhaps more just, though not so poetical as yours.

Here lies John Hughes and Sarah Drew;

Perhaps you'll say, what's that to

you ?

Believe me, friend, much may be said

On this poor couple that are dead.

F