A gentleman, well known to the learned world, and distinguished by the patronage of the Maecenas of Norfolk, whose name, was I permitted to mention it, would excite the attention of my reader, and add no small authority to my conjectures, observing, as he was walking that way, that the clouds began to gather, and threaten him with a shower, had recourse, for shelter, to the trees under which this stone happened to lie, and sat down upon it, in expectation of fair weather.  At length he began to amuse himself, in his confinement, by clearing the earth from his seat with the point of his cane; and had continued this employment some time, when he observed several traces of letters, antique and irregular, which, by being very deeply engraven, were still easily distinguishable.

This discovery so far raised his curiosity, that, going home immediately, he procured an instrument proper for cutting out the clay, that filled up the spaces of the letters; and, with very little labour, made the inscription legible, which is here exhibited to the publick: 

  POST-GENITIS.

  Cum lapidem hunc, magni
  Qui nunc jacet incola stagni,
  Vel pede equus tanget,
  Vel arator vomere franget,
  Sentiet aegra metus,
  Effundet patria fletus,
  Littoraque ut fluctu,
  Resonabunt oppida luctu: 
  Nam foecunda rubri
  Serpent per prata colubri,
  Gramina vastantes,
  Flores fructusque vorantes. 
  Omnia foedantes,
  Vitiantes, et spoliantes;
  Quanquam haud pugnaces,
  Ibunt per cuncta minaces,
  Fures absque timore,
  Et pingues absque labore. 
  Horrida dementes
  Rapiet discordia gentes;
  Plurima tunc leges
  Mutabit, plurima reges
  Natio; conversa
  In rabiem tunc contremet ursa

  MARMOR NORFOLCIENSE

  Cynthia, tunc latis
  Florebunt lilia pratis;
  Nec fremere audebit
  Leo, sed violare timebit,
  Omnia consuetus
  Populari pascua laetus. 
  Ante oculos natos
  Calceatos et cruciatos
  Jam feret ignavus,
  Vetitaque libidine pravus. 
  En quoque quod mirum,
  Quod dicas denique dirum,
  Sanguinem equus sugit,
  Neque bellua victa remugit!

These lines he carefully copied, accompanied, in his letter of July 19, with the following translation.

  TO POSTERITY.

  Whene’er this stone, now hid beneath the lake,
  The horse shall trample, or the plough shall break,
  Then, O my country! shalt thou groan distrest,
  Grief swell thine eyes, and terrour chill thy breast. 
  Thy streets with violence of woe shall sound,
  Loud as the billows bursting on the ground. 
  Then through thy fields shall scarlet reptiles stray,
  And rapine and pollution mark their way. 
  Their hungry swarms the peaceful vale shall fright,
  Still fierce to threaten, still afraid to fight;
  The teeming year’s whole product