EPITAPH ON MR. ROWE IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY by ALEXANDER POPE

Thy Reliques, Rowe! to this sad Shrine we trust,
And near thy Shakespear place thy honour'd Bust,
Oh next him skill'd to draw the tender Tear,
For never Heart felt Passion more sincere:
To nobler Sentiment to fire the Brave,
For never Briton more disdain'd a Slave!
Peace to thy gentle Shade, and endless Rest,
Blest in thy Genius, in thy Love too blest;
And blest, that timely from Our Scene remov'd
Thy Soul enjoys that Liberty it lov'd.

To these, so mourn'd in Death, so lov'd in Life!
The childless Parent and the widow'd Wife
With tears inscribes this monumental Stone,
That holds their Ashes and expects her own.

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