TO MISS SINGER, (AFTERWARDS MRS. ROWE,) ON THE SIGHT OF SOME OF HER DIVINE POEMS, NEVER PRINTED. July 19, 1706. On the fair banks of gentle Thames There beneath the evening sky I sung my cares asleep, and rais'd my wishes high Sudden from Albion's western coast The neighbouring shepherds knew the silver sound; "Tis Philomela's voice!' the neighbouring shepherds cry: At once my strings all silent lie, At once my fainting Muse was lost, Now be my harp for ever dumb, My Muse attempt no more. I bid adieu to mortal things, "Twas long ago To Grecian tales, and wars of Rome, Miss Singer published a volume of her 'Poems on seval Occasions,' under the name of Philomela. "Twas long ago I broke all but the' immortal strings; Now those immortal strings have no employ, Since a fair angel dwells below, To tune the notes of Heaven, and propagate the joy. Let all my powers with awe profound, While Philomela sings, Attend the rapture of the sound, And my devotion rise on her seraphic wings. HORE LYRICE. BOOK III. SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF THE DEAD. AN EPITAPH ON KING WILLIAM THE THIRD, OF GLORIOUS MEMORY, Who died March 8, 1701. BENEATH these honours of a tomb Preserve, O venerable pile, Inviolate thy sacred trust; To thy cold arms the British isle, Ye gentlest ministers of fate, Attend the monarch as he lies; And bid the softest Slumbers wait With silken cords to bind his eyes. Rest his dear sword beneath his head; Ye sister Arts of paint and verse, High o'er the grave Religion set In solemn guise; pronounce the ground Sacred, to bar unhallow'd feet, And plant her guardian Virtues round. Fair Liberty in sables dress'd, Write his lov'd name upon his urn, • William, the scourge of tyrants past, And awe of princes yet unborn.' 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. Stand on the pile, immortal Fame, Flattery shall faint beneath the sound, And Slander gnaw her forky tongue. Night and the grave remove your gloom; Glory with all her lamps shall burn, EPITAPHIUM VIRI VENERABILIS DOM. N. MATHER, Carmine Lapidario conscriptum. M. S. REVERENDI ADMODUM VIRI NATHANAELIS MATHERI. QUOD mori potuit hic subtus depositum est, Si quæris hospes, quantus et qualis fuit, Fidus enarrabit lapis. Nomen à familiâ duxit Sanctioribus studiis et evangelio devotâ, |