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IN THE CHURCH-YARD OF BROMLEY, IN KENTO
WRITTEN BY THE LATE JOHN HAWKESWORTH,
L. L. D.
Near this place lies the body of
ELIZABETH MONK, who-departed this life on the 17th day of Aug. 1753,
aged 101. She was the Widow of John Monk, late of this parith,
her second husband,
By him she had no children ;
But virtue would not suffer her to be childless. An infant, to whom, and to whose father and uncles,
she had been nurse, (such is the uncertainty of temporal pofterity ) became dependent upon strangers for the neceffaries of
to him the afforded the protection of a mother, This parental charity was returned with filial affection;
and she was fupported in the feebleness of age by him whom the had cherished in the helplesness of infancy.
LET IT BE REMEMBERED,
obtain power to be liberal,
by a fimple and unaffected piety,
universally sure. How few are allowed an equal time of probation! How many by their lives appear to presume upon more!
To preserve the memory of this person, but yet more to perpetuate the lesson of her life, this Stone was erected by voluntary contribution,
IN THE CATHEDRAL AT BRISTOL.
IN MEMORY OF MRS. MASON, WHO DIED AT THE
HOTWELLS, IN 1767.
TAKE, holy earth, all that my foul holds dear,
Take that best gift which Heav'n fo lately gave :
Per faded form : The bow'd to tafte the wave,
And died. Does youth, does beauty, read the line ?
Does sympathetic fear their breasts alarm ?
Ev'n from the grave thou shalt have pow'r to charm;
Bid them in duty's sphere as meekly move ;
As firm in friendship, and as fond in Love :
('I'was ev'n to thee) yet the dread path once trods
Ε Ρ Ι Τ Α Ρ Η ,
ON MISS DRUMMOND, DAUGHTER OF THE ARCH.SE
BISHOP OF YORK.
BY MR. MAS ON.
HERE sleeps--what once was beauty, once was grace,
Grace, that with sense and tenderness combin'd To form that harmony of foul and face,
Where Beauty shines the mirror of the mind.
Such was the maid, who, in the morn of youth,
In virgin innocence, in Nature's pride, Bleft with each art which owes its charm to Truth,
Sunk in her father's fond embrace, and dy'd.
He weeps SOh venerate the holy tear!
Faiths lends her aid to ease Affliction's load; The parent mourns his child upon her bier,
The Christian yields an Angel to his God.
[These are the Verses which the Monthly Reviewers
so justly regret were omitted in the published Coba lection of Miss Aikin's Poems.]
WHEN now the hostile maid refus’d to yield,
The knight despair'd by open force to gain
" Othou ! whose equal, mild, and grateful fway, " The wretched welcome, and the great obey, " If e'er, with murmur'd spells of magic found, " I've spread thy empire ev'n on holy ground, “ 'Till drowsy vapours crept from pew to pew, " 'Till all the nodding audience bow'd to you, " And hung their heads like flow'rs beneath the
o dew ;
" In constant slumbers seal those hostile eyes, “ And let my troops th' unwary fce surprize. “ My grateful hand to thee shall confecrate “ An ample folio, of flupendous weight. “ Words of such opiate virtue fail compose 6. The soporific, soft, lothean dose; “ No mortal eye-lids fhall refift the charm, “ No Dutchman's phlegm against its influence arm,