But, after all, Cowley's acceptance amongst those who immediately survived him, is perhaps due quite as much to the recollection of his amiable personal qualities, as to his poetic abilities; and when Charles II., "who never _said_ a foolish thing," declared, on being informed of the poet's death, that "Mr. Cowley had not left a better _man_ behind him in England," the merry monarch may have intended exactly what he said, and no more. With these rambling remarks I leave the matter, only trusting, if I shall be found to have called attention to what may possibly be an old acquaintance of some of your learned readers, that my desire to contribute an occasional mite to the pages of a periodical, from which I gather so much information, will be accepted as an apology. The words in brackets are supplied, conjecturally, in consequence of the manuscript being faulty in those places. HENRY CAMPKIN. per Carolum Scarborough Militem Med. Doctorem. ABRAHAMUS COWLEIUS. Anglorum Pindarus, Flaccus Maro, deliciæ, decus, desiderium, ævi sui hic juxta situs est. Aurea dum volitant late tua scripta per orbem, Et fama æternum vivis, divine Poeta, Hic placida jaceas requies custodiat urnam Cana fides, vigilentq; perennii lampade Musæ. Sit sacer iste locus, nec quis temerarius ausit Sacrilegi turbare manu venerabili bustum. Intacti maneant, maneant per secula dulcis Cowleii cineres, serventq; immobile saxum. Sic vovet, votumq; suum apud posteros sacratum esse voluit Qui viro incomparabili posuit sepulchrale marmor. GEORGIUS DUX BUCKINGHAMIÆ Excessit e vita anno ætatis 49 magnifica pompa elatus ex ædibus Buckinghamiis, viris illustribus omnium ordinum; exequias celebrantibus sepultus est die tertio Augusti anno 1667. Englished-- ABRAHAM COWLEY; the English Pindar, Horace, Virgil: the delight, glory and desire of his age, lies near this place. Whilst that thy glorious volumes still survive And thou (great Poet) art in Fame alive, Here take thy full repose, free from alarmes, In th' Churches bosome and the Muses armes. Speak and tread softly Passengers, and none With an unhallowed touch pollute this stone Let sweet-strained Cowley in death's sleep ne're stir But rest, rest ever in his sepulchre. BURLESQ; Here lies, reduc'd to ashes and cinder, not S'r Paul, but S'r Abraham Pindar. It is not fierce Horatio Vere, but Horatio Cowley buried here. Nor is this Polydore Virgil's room, but Cantabrigian Virgil's tomb. The pleasant'st child e're England bred The bravest youth e're Cambridge fed The dearest man e're wore a head.