John Henry Dryden

Fair, kind, and true, a treasure each alone,
A wife, a mistress, and a friend, in one;
Rest in this tomb, raised at thy husband's cost,
Here sadly summing, what he had, and lost

He who, in impious times, undaunted stood,
And 'midst rebellion durst be just and good;
Whose arms asserted, and whose sufferings more Confirmed the cause for which he fought before,
Rests here, rewarded by an heavenly prince,

Like some raw sophister that mounts the pulpit,
So trembles a young poet at a full pit
Unused to crowds, the parson quakes for fear,
And wonders how the devil he durst come there;

Ye sacred relics, which your marble keep,
Here, undisturbed by wars, in quiet sleep;
Discharge the trust, which, when it was below,
Fairborne's undaunted soul did undergo,

Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call today his own:
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today

New ministers, when first they get in place,
Must have a care to please; and that's our case:
Some laws for public welfare we design,
If you, the power supreme, will please to join

Below this marble monument is laid All that heaven wants of this celestial maid
Preserve,
O sacred tomb, thy trust consigned;
The mould was made on purpose for the mind:

Dreams are but interludes which Fancy makes;
When monarch Reason sleeps, this mimic wakes:
Compounds a medley of disjointed things,
A mob of cobblers, and a court of kings:

Stay, stranger, stay, and drop one tear
She always weeps, who laid him here;
And will do till her race is run;
His father's fifth, her only son

Gallants, a bashful poet bids me say,
He's come to lose his maidenhead to-day
Be not too fierce; for he's but green of age,
And ne'er, till now, debauched upon the stage

Dedicated to the Memory of the Late Countess of Abingdon
As when some great and gracious monarch dies,
Soft whispers first and mournful
Among the sad attendants; then the

So fair, so young, so innocent, so sweet,
So ripe a judgment, and so rare a wit,
Require at least an age in one to meet
In her they met; but long they could not stay, 'Twas gold too fine to fix without allay