Every visitor will reverently pause before the magnificent cenotaph of the great Earl of Chatham, which, though somewhat too confused and elaborate in its decorations, is not unworthy of the greatest of English ministers. Having achieved a higher reputation as a statesman and orator than any other public man which his country had produced, and having fallen, as it were, in her service, the national gratitude was displayed in an unprecedented manner by honors paid his memory. His body lay in state three days in the painted chamber in the House of Lords—his public funeral exceeded in splendor the obsequies of princes—his debts were paid by the nation—and finally, the stately tomb to which we have drawn attention, was placed over his remains. The inscription whilst exceedingly plain and simple, is impressive and appropriate: Erected by the King and Parliament As a testimonial to The Virtues and Ability of WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM, During whose administration, in the reigns of George II. and George III. Divine Providence Exalted Great Britain To a height of Prosperity and Glory Unknown in any former age. Of poetical epitaphs in the Abbey some of the most important are by Pope. Like everything else from his pen, they are carefully written, but viewed as monumental inscriptions, not distinguished for any striking excellence. Among the best of them is that on the Honourable James Craggs, a secretary of state, rather discreditably mixed up with the South Sea Bubble:— Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, yet in honour clear! Who broke no promise, served no private end, Who gained no title, and who lost no friend; Ennobled by Himself, by all approved, Praised, wept, and honored by the Muse he loved. The one on Gay is interesting as a tribute of friendship, and as a faithful portrait of that pleasing and amiable poet, the simplicity of whose character is admirably delineated in the first couplet:— Of manners gentle, and affections mild, _In wit a man, simplicity a child_. Altogether it is a beautiful and appropriate composition, and we cannot but regret that the monument on which it appears should be disfigured by the doggerel, said to have been written by Gay himself, and inscribed on the ledge just above Pope’s epitaph; Life is a jest, and all things show it; I thought so once, but now I know it. That of Nicholas Rowe, the dramatist (also by Pope), has been admired for the pathos of the concluding lines, the beauty of which, however, it is a matter of notoriety, was considerably marred by a prosaic circumstance, which proves the danger of assuming facts even in poetical compositions. The monument is commemorative of the poet and of his only daughter, the wife of Henry Fane. His widow survived him, and her inconsolable affliction was beautifully depicted:-