mington, the honourable George Berkley, Eſq; and Brigadier-general Churchill; and colonel Congreve followed his corpſe as chief mourner; ſome time after, a neat and elegant monument was erected to his memory, by Henrietta ducheſs of Marlborough.
Mr. Congreve’s reputation is ſo extenſive, and his works ſo generally read, that any ſpecimen of his poetry may be deemed ſuperfluous. But finding an epiſtle of our author’s in the Biographia Brittannica, not inſerted in his works, it may not be improper to give it a place here. It is addreſſed to the lord viſcount Cobham, and the ingenious authors inform us, that they copied it from a MS. very correct.
As in this poem there is a viſible alluſion to the meaſures, which the writer thought were too complaiſant to the French, it is evident it muſt have been penned but a very ſmall time before his death.
Of improving the preſent time.
Sincereſt critic of my proſe, or rhyme.
Tell how thy pleaſing Stowe employs thy time.
Say, Cobham, what amuſes thy retreat?
Or ſtratagems of war, or ſchemes of ſtate?
Doſt thou recall to mind, with joy or grief,
Great Marlbro’s actions? that immortal chief,
Whoſe higheſt trophy, rais’d in each campaign,
More than ſuffic’d to ſignalize a reign.
Does thy remembrance riſing, warm thy heart
With glory paſt, where thou thyſelf had’ſt part;
Or do’ſt thou grieve indignant, now to ſee
The fruitleſs end of all thy victory?
To ſee th’ audacious foe, ſo late ſubdu’d,
Diſpute thoſe terms for which ſo long they ſu’d,
As if Britannia now were ſunk ſo low,
To beg that peace ſhe wanted to beſtow.
