lot. The verses in all probability were put into his pocket-book,
by the same person, who with so much dexterity placed a treasonable
paper in bishop Atterbury's close-stool, and then pretending to be the
discoverer of it, preferred it against his lordship, as an evidence of
his disaffection. The particulars of that memorable tryal are recorded
in the Life of Atterbury, written by the authors of Biographia
Britannica.--The heats raised by Atterbury's tryal subsiding, those
who were suspected of being concerned with him, as no evidence
appeared strong enough to convict them, were released.

Dr. Yalden was still favoured with the patronage of the generous duke
of Beaufort, and his residence in that noble family recommended him
to the acquaintance of many of the first quality and character in the
kingdom, and as he was of a chearful temper, and of a pleasing and
instructive conversation, he retained their friendship and esteem till
his death, which happened the 16th of July, 1736, in the 66th year of
his age.

His poetical works are chiefly these.

On the Conquest of Namure; A Pindaric Ode, inscribed to his most
sacred and victorious majesty, folio 1695.

The Temple of Fame; a Poem to the memory of the most illustrious
Prince, William Duke of Gloucester, folio 1700. On the late Queen's
Accession to the Throne, a Poem.

AEsop at Court, or State Fables.

An Essay on the Character on Sir Willoughby Ashton, a Poem. Fol. 1704.

On the Mines of Sir Carbery Price, a Poem; occasioned by the
Mine-adventure Company.

On the Death of Mr. John Partridge, Professor in Leather, and
Astrologer.

Advice to a Lover.

To Mr. Watson, on his Ephemeris on the Caelestial Motions, presented to
Queen Anne.

Against Immoderate Grief.

The Force of Jealousy.

An Ode for St. Cecilia's Day, 1693, set to music by Dr. Purcel.

A Hymn to the Morning in Praise of Light.

* * * * *

We shall extract the following stanza from this Hymn, as a specimen of
his poetry.

Parent of day! whose beauteous beams of light
Spring from the darksome womb of night,
And midst their native horrors mow
Like gems adorning of the negro's brow.
Not Heaven's fair bow can equal thee,
In all its gawdy drapery:
Thou first essay of light, and pledge of day!
Rival of shade! eternal spring! still gay!
From thy bright unexhausted womb
The beauteous race of days and seasons come.
Thy beauty age