LYRIC POEMS. HORB LYRICÆ. BOOK 171.- Sacred to the Memory of the Dead. 295e An Epitaph on KING WILLIAM III. Of glorious Memory. Who died March 8th, 1701 -2. o. BENEATH these honours of a tomb, Greatness in humble ruin lies: (How earth confines in narrow room What heroes leave beneath the skies!) 2 Preserve, O venerable Pile, Inviolate thy sacred trust ; To thy cold arms the British isle, Weeping commits her richest dust. 3 Ye gentlest ministers of fate, Attend the monarch as he lies, And bid the softest Slumbers wait With silken cords to bind his eyes. 4 Rest his dear sword beneath his bead ; Round bins his faithful Arms shall stand: Fix his bright Ensigns on his bed, ,. The guards and honours of our land. 5 Ye Sister arts of Paint and Verse, Place Albion fainting by his side, Her groans arising o'er the hearse, And Belgia sinking when he dy'd. 6 High o'er the grave Religion set In solemn gold ; pronounce the ground Sacred, to bar unhallow'd feet, And plant her guardian virtues round. 7 Fairliberty in sables drest, Write his lov'd name upon his urn, " William,the scourgeof tyrants past, And awe ofprinces yet unborn." 8 Sweet Peace his sacred relics keep, With olives blooming round her head, And stretch her wings across the deep To bless the nations with the shade. 9 Stand on the pile, immortal Fame, Broad stars adorn thy brightest robe, Thy thousand voices sound his name In silver accents round the globe. 10 Flattryshall faint beneath the sound, While hoary truth inspires the song; Envy grow pale and bite the ground, And slander gnaw her forky tongue. 11 Night and the grave remove your gloom; Darkness becomes the vulgar dead ; But glory bids the royal tomb Disdain the horrors of a shade. I2 Glory with all her lamps shall burn, And watch the warrior's sleeping clay, Till the last trumpet rouse his urn To aid the triumphs of the day. On the sudden Death of MRS. MARY PEACOCK. An Elegiac Song sent in a Letter of Condolence to Mr. N. P. Merchant at Amsterdam. 1 HARK ! She bids all her friends adieu: Some angel calls her to the spheres ; Our eyes the radiant saint pursue Thro' liquidtelescopes of tears. 2 Farewel, bright soul, a short farewel, Till we shall meet again above In the sweet groves wherepleasures dwell, And trees of life bear fruits of love: S There glory sits on every face, There friendship smiles in every eye, There shall our tpngues relate the grace That led us homeward to the sky. 4 O'er all the names of Christour King Shall our harmonious voices rove, Our !harps shall sound from ev'rystring The wonders of his bleeding love. 5 Come, sov'reign Lord, dear Saviour, come, Remove these separating days, Sendthybrightwlieelstofetch us home ; That goldenhour, how long it stays ! s How long must we lie ling'ring here, While saints around us take their fight? Smiling, they quit this dusky sphere,. And mount the hills of heav'nly light. 7 Sweet soul, we leave thee to thy rest, Enjoy thy Jesus and thy God, Till we, from hands of clay releast, Spring out and climb the shining road. 8 While the dear dust she leaves behind, Sleeps in thy bosom, sacred tomb ! Soft be her bed, her slumbers kind, And all her dreams of joy to come. EPITAPHIUM Viri Venerabilit DOM. N. MAT HER, Carmine Lapidario conscripttam: Reverendi admodum Viri NATHANAELIS MATHERI. QUOD mori potuit hic subtus deposituis est, C Si qusaris, hospes, quantus & qualis Fidus enarrahit lapis. Nomen á famili5 duxit Sanctioribus studiis & evangelio devoti,
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