Public men, and public things,
He judged by one constant standard,
The true interest of Britain:
He made no other distinction of party;
He abhorred all other.

Gentle, humane, disinterested, beneficient,
He created no enemies on his own account:
Firm, determined, inflexible,

He feared none he could create in the cause of

Britain.
Reader,

In this misfortune of thy country, lament thy own.
For know,

The loss of so much private worth,
In a public calamity.

Born 1682, died 1764.

This gentleman was the famous opposer of Sir Robert Walpole in parliament; such was the severity of his eloquence and sarcasm that Sir Robert was heard to declare, he dreaded that man's tongue more than another man's sword.

ON CLAUDE PHILLIPS,

An itinerant Musician who travelled up and down Wales, and was greatly celebrated for his per

formance. Ich von Br

Phillips! whose touch harmonious could remove

The pangs of guilty pow'r, and hapless love,
Rest here, distrest by poverty no more,

Find here that calm thou gav'st so oft' before;

G

Sleep undisturb'd within this peaceful shrine,
Till angels wake thee with a note like thine.

St. James, Clerkenwell.

JOHN WEAVER,

Was buried in the year 1632, aged 56.

This monument was made and placed at the cost and
charges of John Skillicorn, Esq. being his executor.
Weaver, who labour'd in a learned strain,
To make men long since dead to live again;

And with expence of oil and ink did watch,
From the worm's mouth the sleeping corse to snatch,
Hath by his industry begot a way,

Death (who insidiates all things) to betray;

Redeeming freely by his care and cost.

Many a sad herse, which time long since gave lost:
And to forgotten dust such spirit did give,
To make in our memories to live;

For wheresoe'er a ruin'd tomb he found,
His pen has built it new out of the ground;
'Twixt earth and him this interchange we find,
She hath to him, he bin to her like kind;
She was his mother, he a grateful child,
Made her his theme, in a large work compil'd,
Of funerals, reliques, and brave structures rear'd,
On such as seem'd unto her most endear'd;
Alternately to him a grave she lent,

Q'er which his book remains a monument.

Lancashire gave me breath,
And Cambridge education,
Middlesex gave me death,
And this church my humation,
And Christ to me hath given,
A place with him in heaven.

He resided in Clerkenwell Close.

St. Paul's, Covent Garden.

SAMUEL BUTLER, Esq.

An elegant monument erected by subscription, and fitted up in the portico of the church, bearing a medallion of that great man, which was taken from his monument in Westminster Abbey.

A few plain men, to pomp and pride unknown,
O'er a poor bard have rais'd this humble stone,
Whose wants alone his genius could surpass,
Victim of zeal! the matchless Hudibras.

What, tho' fair freedom suffer'd in his page,
Reader, forgive the author-for the age.
How few, alas! disdain to cringe and cant,
When 'tis the mode to play the sycophant,

But oh! let all be taught from Butler's fate,
Who hope to make their fortunes by the great;
That wit and pride are always dangerous things,
And little faith is due to courts or kings.

At Strensham, in Worcestershire, 1612,
And died at London 1680;
A man

Of uncommon learning, wit and probity;
As admirable for the product of his genius,
As unhappy in the rewards of them.
His satire,

Exposing the hypocrisy and wickedness of
the Rebels,

In such an inimitable piece,

That as he was the first,

He may be said to be the last writer,
In his peculiar manner.
That he,

Who, when living, wanted almost every thing,
Might not, after death,

Any longer want so much as a tomb,
John Barber,

Citizen of London, erected this monument

1721.

Norwich Cathedral.

Here lies the body of honest Tom Page,

Who died in the 33d year of his age.

Westerham, Kent,

ON GENERAL WOLFE,

Where he was born, 1727.

While George in sorrow bows his laurel'd head,
And bids the artist grace the soldier dead,
We raise no sculptur'd trophy to thy name,
Brave youth! the fairest in the lists of fame.

Proud of thy birth, we boast the auspicious year;
Struck with thy fall, we shed the gen'ral tear:
With humble grief inscribe one artless stone,
And from thy matchless honor date our own.

Major-general and commander in chief

Of the British land forces

On an expedition against Quebec ;

Who, after surmounting by ability and valour

All obstacles of art and nature,

Was slain in the moment of victory,

On the 14th of September, 1759.

The king and parliament of Great Britain dedicate this monument,