Epitaph on Edmund Duke of Buckingham, Who Died in the Nineteenth Year of His Age, 1735


If modest Youth, with cool Reflection crown'd,
And ev'ry op'ning Virtue blooming round,
Could save a Mother's justest Pride from fate,
Or add one Patriot to a sinking state;
This weeping marble had not ask'd thy Tear,
Or sadly told, how many Hopes lie here!
The living Virtue now had shone approv'd,
The Senate heard him, and his Country lov'd.
Yet softer Honours, and less noisy Fame
Attend the shade of gentle B UCKINGHAM :
In whom a Race, for Courage fam'd and Art,
Ends in the milder Merit of the Heart;
And Chiefs or Sages long to Britain giv'n,
Pays the last Tribute of a Saint to Heav'n.
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.