On the death of a promising Youth of eighteen.

Tho' death the virtuous young destroy,
They go to rest and Heav'nly joy;
Life is not to be judg'd by days,
Virtue endures-when time decays;
And many old we falsely call,
Who truly ne'er liv'd at all.
For what is time if not employ'd
In worthy deeds-but all a void ?
Then think not tho' abridg'd by fate,
Too short this youth's alloted date.
With dignity he filled his span,
In conduct and in worth a man ;
So spent a life-to Heaven appears,
As full as Nestor's length of years.

On the death of a CHILD, of an Honorable young Couple; written by the father.

Come, patience! come, to dry a parents tears;
Come, bright ey'd hope! to cheer her future years:
Teach her to bless the kind, tho' chastening rod,
That made her mortal child, the child of God;
Teach her to praise that God with grateful mind,
For babes that yet may come, for one left still behind.

H. E.

His last debt is paid-poor Tom's no more,
Last debt!-Tom never paid a debt before.

On a pious SAILOR, who with ten of his Shipmates fell a victim to the yellow Fever, in the island of Antigua.

An honest corse beneath this sod,
Lies mouldering in the earth;
The spirit is return'd to God,
That gave the body birth;
A pattern of the angel mind,
In all he seem'd to be ;
That came to navigate mankind
To wide eternity.

On a whole FAMILY cut off by the Small Pox.

At once depriv'd of life lies here,
A family to virtue dear,

Tho' far remov'd from regal state,
Their virtues made them truly great;
Lest one should feel the others fall,
Death has in kindness seiz'd them all.

P. RAINER.

On a SERVANT, who lived twenty years in one family.

Remember man, whoe'er thou art,
Not he who acts the greatest part,
But they who act the best, will be
The happiest men eternally.

To the memory of MARGARET SCOTT, who died at Dalkeith, Edinburghshire; in the year 1738.

Stop, passenger, until my life you read ;
The living may get knowledge by the dead.
Five times five years I liv'd a virgin's life ;
Ten times five years I was a virtuous wife;
Ten times five years I liv'd a widow chaste;
Now wearied of this mortal life I rest.
Between my cradle and my grave have been
Eight mighty Kings of Scotland and a Queen;
Four times five years the commonwealth I saw,
Ten times the subjects rose against the law;
Twice did I see old prelacy pull'd down,
And twice the cloak was humbled by the gown.
An end of Stuart's race I saw; nay more,
My native country sold for English ore:
Such desolation in my life have been,
I have an end of all perfection seen.

This epitaph either contains some notorious falsehood, or the woman was older than is here represented. We are informed she was five times five years a virgin, fifty years a wife, and as many a widow; by which her age appears to have been 125. If she was born in 1613, and died in 1738, which is the whole time allotted in the epitaph, she could only live in the reigns of James VI.-Charles I.-Charles II.—James II.—William III.- George I.-George II. and Queen Anne; which only make seven Kings and a Queen. But perhaps the epitaph maker, whom we imagine to have been a pedantic schoolmaster, was either a republican, who might place Oliver Cromwell in the list; or he might be a Jacobite, who reckoned the Pretender one.

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The epitaph likewise asserts that the commonwealth of England lasted 20 years, that is, from 1640 to 1660. That looks altogether like the blunder of a country pedagogue. The epitaph maker did not consider that no less than five governments took place during that period in Britain, viz. monarchcal or limited, as at present; parliamentary; a council of state, consisting of a junto of the parliament; a commonwealth; and an absolute despotic one, under Cromwell.

Intended for MR. ROBERT FERGUSSON, the Scottish Poet.

No sculptur'd marble here, nor pompous lay!
No storied urn, nor animated bust!
This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way,
To pour her sorrows o'er her poet's dust.

R. BURNS.

In St. Germain's Cathedral, Isle of Man.-SAMUEL RUTTER, Bishop of Sodor and Man, was buried under the uncovered steeple of his own Cathedral, with a Latin inscription on a brass plate, which in English is thus:

In this house, which I have borrowed of my brethren the worms, do I lye, Samuel, by divine permission, Bishop of this Island, in hopes of the resurrection to life. Reader, stop, view the Lord Bishop's palace and smile. He died may 30th, 1662.

In East Hampstead, Berks; on MR. ELIJAH FEN

TON.

This modest stone, what few vain marbles can,
May truly say, "Here lies an honest man;"

A poet, bless'd beyond a poet's fate,

Whom Heav'n kept sacred from the proud and great: Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease,

Content with science in the vale of

peace. Calmly he look'd on either life, and here

Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear;

From nature's temp'rate feast rose satisfied,

Thank'd Heav'n that he had liv'd, and that he died.

POPE, 1730.

ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE.

Underneath this marble hearse
Lies the subject of all verse,-
Sydney's sister, Pembroke's mother;
Death, ere thou hast kill'd another
Learn'd, and fair, and good as she,
Time shall throw his dart at thee.

BEN JONSON.

On SIR JOHN VANBURGH, the Poet and Architect.

Lie light upon him earth! tho' he
Laid many a heavy load on thee.

DR. EVANS.