An elegy on the death of Miss M----s. Eldest daughter of D---- M----, Esq. of the F---- H----, C----, Berkshire. Who died the 8th of July, 1785. By a gentleman of the Inner Temple Berkeley, George Monck, 1763-1793. 18 600dpi bitonal TIFF page images and SGML/XML encoded text University of Michigan Library Ann Arbor, Michigan 2007 January 004801712 T32526 CW110483623 K035592.000 CW3310483623 ECLL 0163500300

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 An elegy on the death of Miss M----s. Eldest daughter of D---- M----, Esq. of the F---- H----, C----, Berkshire. Who died the 8th of July, 1785. By a gentleman of the Inner Temple Berkeley, George Monck, 1763-1793. 22p. ; 4⁰. printed for H. D. Symonds, London : 1786. With a half-title - Gentleman of the Inner Temple = George Monk Berkeley. Reproduction of original from the British Library. English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT32526. Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).

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 eng

Revd Willm Peter 〈◊〉 portrait Willm Skelton Sculp • it.

blazon or coat of arms
GEORGE-MONCK BERKELEY ESQRE. L.L.B. F.S.S.A. 〈◊〉 of Magdalene Hall. Oxford 〈◊〉 ſtudent of the Inner Temple. London. Who during the last eighteen Years of his life was the only Child of the REV• GEORGE BERKELEY L.L.D. Prebendary of Canterbury. CHANCELLOR of BRECKNOCK &c. the 〈◊〉 child of the Right Rev•. George Berkeley 〈◊〉 the illustrious late LORD BISHOP of CLOYNE in IRELAND. 〈◊〉 nly 〈◊◊◊〉 of the 〈◊〉 pious and learned Francis 〈◊〉 Esq•. of Shottesbrook House in the County of Berks. 〈◊◊◊〉 on the 26th of Janu ••• 〈◊〉 Aged 20. 〈◊◊〉 Death was an unspeakable grief to his Parents. 〈…〉

AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH of MISS M _… s. ELDEST DAUGHTER OF D _… M _… , ESQ. OF THE F _… H _… , C _… , BERKSHIRE. WHO DIED THE 8th OF JULY, 1785.

BY A GENTLEMAN OF THE INNER TEMPLE.

IF pureſt virtue, ſenſe refin'd in youth, Religious wiſdom, and a love of truth, A mind that knew no thought ignobly mean, A temper ſweetly chearful, yet ſerene, A breaſt that glow'd with thoſe immortal fires Which Godlike charity alone inſpires: If theſe could lengthen ſate's tremendous doom And ſnatch one moment from the gaping tomb, Death had relenting thrown his dart aſide, And HARRIOT, O my HARRIOT, had not died. EARL of ORRERY. "WATCH, O WATCH O'ER HER DUST, YE GENTLE POWERS "WHO KINDLY CALM THE SAINT'S DEPARTING HOURS." MARIA; or, THE GENEROUS RUSTIC.

LONDON: PRINTED FOR H. D. SYMONDS, STATIONER'S COURT, LUDGATE-STREET. MDCCLXXXVI.

TO THE SURVIVING MEMBERS OF THAT TRULY AMIABLE FAMILY OF WHICH MISS M _… s WAS ONCE A BRIGHT, A DISTINGUISHED, AND A JUSTLY VALUED ORNAMENT, ARE THE FOLLOWING LINES INSCRIBED, BY THEIR SYMPATHIZING FRIEND, THE AUTHOR

ADVERTISEMENT.

THESE lines are ſacred to the memory of ONE who, not ſatisfied with the attainment of every female excellence, and every human virtue, ſoared, on adventurous wing, into the regions of ſcience and philoſophy. She ſucceſsfully rivalled thoſe who have long been accuſtomed to behold with indifference, if not with contempt, the efforts of feminine genius, when either claſſical learning or philoſophical diſquiſition have been the objects of purſuit.

ALIKE diſtinguiſhed by elegance of manners, by brilliancy of imagination, and ſoundneſs of judgment, it is almoſt needleſs to obſerve that, whilſt living, ſhe commanded the eſteem and admiration of all who were ſo fortunate as to rank in the number of her friends, and who now join in ſincerely regretting that Heaven, has for ever veiled from their eyes, ONE whoſe beauty, wit, and virtue, adorned a ſex that has ſeldom, if ever produced her ſuperior.

IT is with juſt diffidence that theſe lines are now ſubmitted to the public inſpection. The Author had withheld them from the preſs in expectation that ſome abler bard would tune the lyre to the memory of his lamented friend. Encouraged however by the reception of a former work, he once more ventures himſelf as a candidate for public approbation; convinced that if it be merited, it will not be withheld.

IN the Elegy he has expreſſed his hopes that the poetical powers of Mr. GravesThe ingenious author of Euphroſyne, &c. &c., the elegant panegyriſt of Miſs M _… s in her infancy, will once more be exerted in paying a worthy tribute to her memory. Should the peruſal of theſe lines ſuggeſt to that accompliſhed ſcholar, the idea of favouring the world with a freſh ſpecimen of his poetical talents, the Author will have the ſatisfaction of knowing that, however little his own performance may have merited the indulgence of the public, it will have given birth to one, that will challenge univerſal applauſe, and perpetuate the virtues of his amiable and accompliſhed friend—to whom, alas! he now bids a reluctant adieu in the words of Milton: "Since to part, "Go heavenly gueſt, aetherial meſſenger, "Sent from whoſe ſovran goodneſs I adore. "Gentle to me and affable hath been "Thy condeſcenſion, and ſhall be honoured ever "With grateful memory." PAR. LOST, Book viii.

INNER TEMPLE, London, January 3, 1786.
AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH of MISS M _… s. AS yet 'twas fancied woes alone I ſung, But now by real grief my lyre is ſtrung. 'Tis HARRIET's gentle ſhade demands the lay; Do thou MELPOMENE the tribute pay. Dear to the Muſes, to the Graces dear, They all ſhall weep o'er HARRIET's honour'd bier. HARRIET who from wiſdom's hallowed page Had ſnatch'd the ſpoil of every diſtant age. Pardon, thou honour'd ſhade, theſe untaught lays In which I vainly 'tempt to ſing thy praiſe. Alas! no rude, no untaught verſe like mine Is incenſe worthy of a HARRIET's ſhrine. An abler bard thy many virtues claim, An abler bard ſhall celebrate thy name. Now ſhall the lyre again by him be ſtrung, Who in the down of lifeVide a Collection of Poems, entitled Euphroſyne (vol. i. p. 38) written by Mr. Graves, the claſſical author of the Spiritual Quixote, Columella, and Anecdotes of the Golden Vale. thy praiſes ſung. GRAVES ſhall the ſad, the mournful tribute pay, And hail thy ſpirit in the realms of day. Each female charm, each human virtue thine, By MANLIUS, by me, by all eſteem'd divine. Long may we gaze on beauty's varied throng, And give to them the gently flowing ſong; But when, ah! when, ſhall we thy equal ſee? When look on her we may compare with thee? IN yonder ſhade whilſt Harriet's urn we place, (That ſhade which once her charms were wont to grace) Behold you lovely, weeping, woe-worn train, The boaſted pride of this our village plain; Who at this awful hour by ſorrow led, Seek the drear manſions of the ſilent dead, And at a much lov'd ſiſter's hallow'd bier, Pay the ſad tribute of a hopeleſs tear; Whilſt MANLIUS, whoſe generous breaſt is fraught With all the virtue Grecian ſages taught, Midſt midnight horror and funereal gloom Reſign'd beholds a much lov'd daughter's tomb. Yet deem not ye that he no ſorrow feels, 'Tis true philoſophy his grief conceals. Know on his peace this dire misfortune preys, And will, we dread, cut ſhort his valu'd days. BUT mark yon aged venerable band Who round their HARRIET's grave, in ſorrow ſtand! Thoſe are the ſons of poverty and woe, Whoſe tears at her command had ceas'd to flow: But by her death alas! their woes revive, Again with penury they're doom'd to ſtrive. Ah! ſay who now ſhall all their grief aſſuage? Ah! ſay who now ſhall cheer their drooping age? MANLIUS in whoſe breaſt each virtue reigns, 'Tis HE ſhall now ſupport theſe aged ſwains, Shall bid their cruel fears' their ſorrows ceaſe, And ſmooth their paſſage to the realms of peace. BUT ſay what form majeſtic now appears, Oppreſſ'd by ſorrow and diſſolv'd 〈◊〉 tears? Her ſighs, her groans, her wild diſtracted air, All, all proclaim a wretched MOTHER's care. Now o'er the yawning grave ſhe wildly bends, And now to heaven unnumber'd ſighs ſhe ſends; Whilſt both her ſons ſad partners of her woe, In ſilent grief their heartfelt ſorrow ſhew. IN ſlow proceſſion o'er the gloomy plain, See the ſad father lead the wretched train, Who now in ſolemn ſilence homeward turn, And quit, reluctant quit, their HARRIET's urn. But mark! tho' chang'd the ſpot, not chang'd the ſcene, Nor yet their boſoms know a grief ſerene. For lo! the ſight of yonder dreary walls Her lov'd idea and their grief recals. Their grief may heaven in pity ſoon bid ceaſe, Soon may their tortur'd ſouls be huſh'd to peace. May heaven-born hope direct their ſtreaming eyes To thoſe bleſs'd realms beyond the azure ſkies, Where HARRIET's virtues meet a bright reward From HEAVEN's ALMIGHTY AND ETERNAL LORD.
THE EPITAPH. TRAV'LER! who e'er thou art, that ſeek'ſt this tomb, And view'ſt with pleaſure the ſurrounding gloom, Stay, nor to beauty's urn thy tears refuſe, But let them fall like ſummer's ſweeteſt dews. O long uninjur'd may this willow wave, And long protect this ever honour'd grave. For know, beneath its ſadly drooping ſhade There reſt the aſhes of a lovely maid, If virtuous worth be heaven's peculiar care, She does its brighteſt, nobleſt pleaſures ſhare. Do thou, by Harriet's bright example led, The unfrequented paths of virtue tread. So ſhalt thou dauntleſs meet the power of death, And ſo ſhall hope receive thy lateſt breath.
FINIS.