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EPITAPH

ON

Sir PALMES FAIRBONE's Tomb

IN

WESTMINSTER-AB BEY.

Sacred to the immortal memory of Sir PALMES FAIRBONE, Knight, Governor of Tangier; in execution of which command, he was mortally wounded by a fhot from the Moors, then befieging the town, in the forty-fixth year of his age. October 24, 1680.

E facred relics, which your marble keep,

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Here, undisturb'd by wars, in quiet fleep : Discharge the truft, which, when it was below, Fairbone's undaunted foul did undergo, And be the town's Palladium from the foe. Alive and dead these walls he will defend: Great actions great examples must attend. The Candian fiege his early valor knew, Where Turkish blood did his young hands imbrue. VOL. II.

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From thence returning with deferv'd applause,
Against the Moors his well-flefh'd fword hedraws;
The fame the courage, and the fame the cause.
His youth and age, his life and death, combine,
As in fome great and regular defign,
All of a piece throughout, and all divine.
Still nearer heav'n his virtues fhone more bright,
Like rifing flames expanding in their height;
The martyr's glory crown'd the foldiers fight.
More bravely British general never fell,

Nor general's death was e'er reveng'd fo well;
Which his pleas'd eyes beheld before their close,
Follow'd by thousand victims of his foes.

To his lamented lofs for time to come
His pious widow confecrates this tomb.

Mr.

UNDER

MILTON's Picture,

Before his PARADISE LOST.

HREE Poets, in three diftant ages born,

ΤΗ

Greece, Italy, and England did adorn.
The firft, in loftinefs of thought furpafs'd;
The next, in majefty; in both the last.
The force of nature cou'd no further go;
To make a third, she join'd the former two.

ON THE

MONU UMENT

OF A

FAIR MAIDEN LADY, Who dy'd at BATH, and is there interred.

ELOW this marble monument is laid

BE

All that heav'n wants of this celestial maid. Preferve, O facred tomb, thy truft confign'd; The mold was made on purpose for the mind:

And the wou'd lofe, if, at the latter day,
One atom cou'd be mix'd of other clay.
Such were the features of her heav'nly face,

Her limbs were form'd with fuch harmonious

grace:

Só faultlefs was the frame, as if the whole
Had been an emanation of the foul;
Which her own inward fymmetry reveal'd;
And like a picture fhone, in glass anneal❜d.
Or like the fun eclips'd, with fhaded light:
Too piercing, elfe, to be fuftain'd by fight.
Each thought was vifible that roll'd within :
As thro a crystal cafe the figur'd hours are seen.
And heav'n did this tranfparent veil provide,
Because she had no guilty thought to hide.
All white, a virgin-faint, she fought the skies:
For marriage, tho it fullies not, it dies.
High tho her wit, yet humble was her mind
As if the cou'd not, or fhe wou'd not find
How much her worth tranfcended all her kind.
Yet fhe had learn'd fo much of heaven below,
That when arriv'd, fhe scarce had more to know:

But only to refresh the former hint;

And read her Maker in a fairer print.

;

}

So pious, as he had no time to spare

For human thoughts, but was confin'd to pray'r.
Yet in fuch charities fhe pafs'd the day,

'Twas wond'rous how she found an hour to pray.
A foul fo calm, it knew not ebbs or flows,
Which paffion cou'd but curl, not discompofe.
A female softness, with a manly mind:
A daughter duteous, and a fifter kind:
In fickness patient, and in death refign'd.

3

EPITAPH

Ο Ν

Mrs. MARGARET PASTON,

S

Of BURNINGHAM

in NORFOLK.

O fair, fo young, fo innocent, fo sweet,

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.
Heaven's image was in her fo well expreft,
Her very fight upbraided all the reft;
Too justly ravish'd from an age like this,

Now she is gone, the world is of a piece.

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