Think not, by rig'rous Judgment seiz'd, A Pair so faithful could expire; Victims so pure Heav'n saw well pleas'd, And snatch'd them in celestial fire.
Live well, and fear no sudden fate; When God calls Virtue to the grave, Alike 'tis Justice soon or late, Mercy alike to kill or save.
Virtue unmov'd can hear the call, And face the flash that melts the ball.
According to a letter from Gay, the poet, to Fenton, relating the death of the pair, who were lovers, this epitaph was written by Pope, and the memorial erected at the cost of Lord Harcourt on the condition that Gay or Pope should write the epitaph. Gay gives the following as the joint production of the two poets:--
When Eastern lovers feed the fun'ral fire, On the same pile the faithful pair expire: Here pitying Heav'n that virtue mutual found, And blasted both, that it might neither wound. Hearts so sincere th' Almighty saw well pleas'd, Sent his own lightning, and the victims seiz'd.
"But," wrote Gay, "my Lord is apprehensive the country people will not understand this; and Mr. Pope says he'll make one with something of Scripture in it, and with as little of poetry as Hopkins and Sternhold." Hence the lines which appear on the tomb of the lovers.
Our next example is from Bury St. Edmunds churchyard:--
Here lies interred the Body of MARY HASELTON, A young maiden of this town, Born of Roman Catholic parents, And virtuously brought up, Who, being in the act of prayer Repeating her vespers, Was instantaneously killed by a flash of Lightning, August 16th, 1785. Aged 9 years.
Not Siloam's ruinous tower the victims slew, Because above the many sinn'd the few, Nor here the fated lightning wreaked its rage By vengeance sent for crimes matur'd by age. For whilst the thunder's awful voice was heard, The little suppliant with its hands uprear'd. Addressed her God in prayers the priest had taught, His mercy craved, and His protection sought; Learn reader hence that wisdom to adore, Thou canst not scan and fear His boundless power; Safe shalt thou be if thou perform'st His will, Blest if he spares, and more blest should He kill.
From Bury St. Edmunds is the following inscription which tells a sad story of the low value placed on human life at the close of the eighteenth century:--