_On the monument of the honourable_ ROBERT DIGBY, _and of his sister
MARY, erected by their father the lord_ DIGBY, _in the church of
Skerborne, in Dorsetshire, 1727._
Go! fair example of untainted youth,
Of modest wisdom, and pacific truth:
Compos'd in sufferings, and in joy sedate,
Good without noise, without pretension great.
Just of thy word, in ev'ry thought sincere,
Who knew no wish but what the world might hear:
Of softest manners, unaffected mind,
Lover of peace, and friend of human kind:
Go, live! for heav'n's eternal year is thine;
Go, and exalt thy mortal to divine.
And thou, blest maid! attendant on his doom,
Pensive hast follow'd to the silent tomb,
Steer'd the same course to the same quiet shore,
Not parted long, and now to part no more!
Go, then, where only bliss sincere is known!
Go, where to love and to enjoy are one!
Yet take these tears, mortality's relief,
And, till we share your joys, forgive our grief:
These little rites, a stone, a verse receive,
'Tis all a father, all a friend can give!
This epitaph contains of the brother only a general indiscriminate
character, and of the sister tells nothing but that she died. The
difficulty in writing epitaphs is to give a particular and appropriate
praise. This, however, is not always to be performed, whatever be the
diligence or ability of the writer; for, the greater part of mankind
_have no character at all_, have little that distinguishes them from
others equally good or bad, and, therefore, nothing can be said of them
which may not be applied with equal propriety to a thousand more. It is,
indeed, no great panegyrick, that there is inclosed in this tomb one who
was born in one year, and died in another; yet many useful and amiable
lives have been spent, which yet leave little materials for any other
memorial. These are, however, not the proper subjects of poetry; and
whenever friendship, or any other motive, obliges a poet to write on
such subjects, he must be forgiven if he sometimes wanders in
generalities, and utters the same praises over different tombs.
The scantiness of human praises can scarcely be made more apparent, than
by remarking how often Pope has, in the few epitaphs which he composed,
found it necessary to borrow from himself. The fourteen epitaphs, which
he has written, comprise about a hundred and forty lines, in which there
are more repetitions than will easily be found in all the rest of his
works. In the eight lines which make the character of Digby, there is
scarce any thought, or word, which may not be found in the other
epitaphs.
The ninth line, which is far the strongest and most elegant, is borrowed
from Dryden. The conclusion is the same with that on Harcourt, but is
here more elegant and better connected.
VIII.
ON SIR GODFREY KNELLER.
_In Westminster Abbey, 1723._
Kneller, by heav'n, and not a master, taught,
Whose art was nature, and whose pictures thought;
Now for two ages, having snatch'd from fate
Whate'er was beauteous, or whate'er was great,
Lies crown'd with princes' honours, poets' lays,
Due to his merit, and brave thirst of praise.
Living, great nature fear'd he might outvie
Her works; and dying, fears herself may die.
Of this epitaph the first couplet is good, the second not bad, the third
is deformed with a broken metaphor, the word _crowned_ not being
applicable to the _honours_ or the _lays_; and the fourth is not only
borrowed from the epitaph on Raphael, but of very harsh construction.