XI. ON MR GAY, IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY, 1732. Of manners gentle, of affections mild; In wit, a man; simplicity, a child: With native humour tempering virtuous rage, Form'd to delight at once and lash the age: Above temptation in a low estate, And uncorrupted, even among the great: A safe companion, and an easy friend, Unblamed through life, lamented in thy end. These are thy honours! not that here thy bust Is mix'd with heroes, or with kings thy dust; But that the worthy and the good shall say, Striking their pensive bosoms--Here lies Gay. XII. INTENDED FOR SIR ISAAC NEWTON, IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. ISAACUS NEWTONUS: QUEM IMMORTALEM TESTANTUR TEMPUS, NATURA, COELUM: MORTALEM HOC MARMOR FATETUR. Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in night God said, Let Newton be! and all was light. XIII. ON DR FRANCIS ATTERBURY,[84] BISHOP OF ROCHESTER, WHO DIED IN EXILE AT PARIS, 1732. SHE. Yes, we have lived--one pang, and then we part! May Heaven, dear father! now have all thy heart. Yet ah! how once we loved, remember still, Till you are dust like me. HE. Dear shade! I will: Then mix this dust with thine--O spotless ghost! O more than fortune, friends, or country lost! Is there on earth one care, one wish beside? Yes--Save my country, Heaven! --He said, and died. XIV. ON EDMUND DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, WHO DIED IN THE NINETEENTH YEAR OF HIS AGE, 1735. If modest youth, with cool reflection crown'd, And every opening virtue blooming round, Could save a parent's justest pride from fate, Or add one patriot to a sinking state; This weeping marble had not ask'd thy tear, Or sadly told how many hopes lie here! The living virtue now had shone approved, The senate heard him, and his country loved. Yet softer honours, and less noisy fame Attend the shade of gentle Buckingham: In whom a race, for courage famed and art, Ends in the milder merit of the heart; And chiefs or sages long to Britain given, Pays the last tribute of a saint to Heaven. XV. FOR ONE WHO WOULD NOT BE BURIED IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. Heroes and kings! your distance keep: In peace let one poor poet sleep, Who never flatter'd folks like you: Let Horace blush, and Virgil too. XVI. ANOTHER, ON THE SAME. Under this marble, or under this sill, Or under this turf, or e'en what they will; Whatever an heir, or a friend in his stead, Or any good creature shall lay o'er my head, Lies one who ne'er cared, and still cares not a pin What they said, or may say, of the mortal within: But who, living and dying, serene still and free, Trusts in God, that as well as he was, he shall be. XVII. ON TWO LOVERS STRUCK DEAD BY LIGHTNING.[85] When Eastern lovers feed the funeral fire, On the same pile the faithful pair expire. Here pitying Heaven that virtue mutual found, And blasted both, that it might neither wound. Hearts so sincere, the Almighty saw well pleased, Sent his own lightning, and the victims seized.