er as a specimen of his poetry.

Is not usurping Richard buried here,
That King of hate, and therefore slave of fear?
Dragg'd from the fatal Bosworth field where he,
Lost life, and what he liv'd for,--Cruelty:
Search, find his name, but there is none: O Kings,
Remember whence your power and vastness springs;
If not as Richard now, so may you be,
Who hath no tomb, but scorn and memory.
And tho' from his own store, Wolsey might have
A Palace or a College for his grave,
Yet here he lies interred, as if that all
Of him to be remembered were his fall.
Nothing but Earth on Earth, no pompous weight
Upon him, but a pebble or a quoit.
If thou art thus neglected, what shall we,
Hope after death, that are but shreds of thee!

The author of the Biographia Britanica tells us, that he found in a
blank leaf of his poems, some manuscript verses, in honour of Bishop
Corbet signed J.C. with which, as they are extremely pretty, and make
a just representation of his poetical character, we shall conclude
this life.

In flowing wit, if verses writ with ease,
If learning void of pedantry can please,
If much good humour joined to solid sense,
And mirth accompanied with innocence,
Can give a poet a just right to fame,
Then Corbet may immortal honour claim;
For he these virtues had, and in his lines,
Poetic and heroic spirit shines;
Tho' bright yet solid, pleasant, but not rude,
With wit and wisdom equally endued.
Be silent Muse, thy praises are too faint,
Thou want'st a power this prodigy to paint,
At once a poet, prelate, and a saint.

[Footnote 1: Athen. Oxon. vol. I. col. 600--I.]

[Footnote 2: Winstanley.]

[Footnote 3: Wood. ubi. supra. fol. 509.]

* * * * *

EDWARD FAIRFAX.

All the biographers of the poets have been extremely negligent with
respect to this great genius. Philips so far overlooks him, that he
crowds him into his supplement, and Winstanley, who followed him,
postpones our author till after the Earl of Rochester. Sir Thomas Pope
Blount makes no mention of him; and Mr. Jacob, so justly called the
Blunderbus of Law, informs us he wrote in the time of Charles the
first, tho' he dedicates his translation of Tasso to Queen Elizabeth.
All who mention him, do him the justice to allow he was an
accomplished genius, but then it is in a way so cool and indifferent,
as shews that they had never read his works, or were any w