[15]
"And what? no Monument, Inscription, Stone?
"His Race, his Form, his Name almost unknown?
Who builds a Church to God, and not to Fame,
Will never mark the marble with his name.
Go search it there[1], where to be born and die,
Of Rich and Poor makes all the history:
Enough that Virtue fill'd the space between;
Prov'd, by the Ends of Being, to have been.
When H * p * s dies, a thousand Lights attend
The Wretch, who living sav'd a Candle's end:
Should'ring God's altar a vile Image stands,
Belies his features, nay extends his hands;
That live-long Wig which Gorgon's self might own,
Eternal buckle takes in Parian stone.
Behold! what blessings Wealth to Life can lend,
And see, what comfort it affords our End!
"His Race, his Form, his Name almost unknown?
Who builds a Church to God, and not to Fame,
Will never mark the marble with his name.
Go search it there[1], where to be born and die,
Of Rich and Poor makes all the history:
Enough that Virtue fill'd the space between;
Prov'd, by the Ends of Being, to have been.
When H * p * s dies, a thousand Lights attend
The Wretch, who living sav'd a Candle's end:
Should'ring God's altar a vile Image stands,
Belies his features, nay extends his hands;
That live-long Wig which Gorgon's self might own,
Eternal buckle takes in Parian stone.
Behold! what blessings Wealth to Life can lend,
And see, what comfort it affords our End!
In the worst Inn's worst room, with matt half-hung,
The floors of plaister, and the walls of dung,
On once a flockbed, but repair'd with straw,
With tape-ty'd curtains, never meant to draw,
The George and Garter dangling from that bed
Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red,
The floors of plaister, and the walls of dung,
On once a flockbed, but repair'd with straw,
With tape-ty'd curtains, never meant to draw,
The George and Garter dangling from that bed
Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red,
- ↑ The Parish-Register.
Great
