Classic Poem

IN NEWINGTON CHURCH, IN OXFORDSHIRE , 1686.

Here lies the prop and glory of his race,
Who, that no time his memory may deface,
His grateful wife, under this speaking stone
His ashes hid, to make his merit known.
Sprung from an opulent and worthy line,
Whose well-used fortune made their virtues shine,
A rich example his fair life did give,
How others should with their relations live.
A pious son, a husband, and a friend,
To neighbours too his bounty did extend
So far, that they lamented when he died,
As if all to him had been near allied.
His curious youth would men and manners know,
Which made him to the southern nations go.
Nearer the Sun, though they more civil seem,
Revenge and luxury have their esteem;
Which well observing he returned with more
Value for England, than he had before;
Her true religion, and her statutes too,
He practised not less than seeked to know;
And the whole country grieved for their ill fate,
To lose so good, so just a magistrate.
To shed a tear may readers be inclined,
And pray for one he only left behind,
Till she, who does inherit his estate,
May virtue love like him, and vices hate.