PARAPHRASE OF THE ABOVE EPITAPH. 
BY DR. JOHNSON (b).

Thou, who survey’st these walls with curious eye,
Pause at the tomb, where Hanmer’s ashes lie;
His various worth, through vary’d life, attend,
And learn his virtues, while thou mourn’st his end. 
  His force of genius burn’d, in early youth,
With thirst of knowledge, and with love of truth;
His learning, join’d with each endearing art,
Charm’d ev’ry ear, and gain’d on ev’ry heart. 
  Thus early wise, th’ endanger’d realm to aid,
His country call’d him from the studious shade;
In life’s first bloom his publick toils began,
At once commenc’d the senator and man. 
In bus’ness dext’rous, weighty in debate,
Thrice ten long years he labour’d for the state;
In ev’ry speech persuasive wisdom flow’d,
In ev’ry act refulgent virtue glow’d: 
Suspended faction ceas’d from rage and strife,
To hear his eloquence, and praise his life. 
Resistless merit fix’d the senate’s choice,
Who hail’d him speaker, with united voice. 
Illustrious age! how bright thy glories shone,
When Hanmer fill’d the chair—­and Anne the throne! 
Then, when dark arts obscur’d each fierce debate,
When mutual frauds perplex’d the maze of state,
The moderator firmly mild appear’d—­
Beheld with love—­with veneration heard. 
This task perform’d—­he sought no gainful post,
Nor wish’d to glitter, at his country’s cost: 
Strict on the right he fix’d his steadfast eye,
With temp’rate zeal and wise anxiety;
Nor e’er from virtue’s paths was lur’d aside,
To pluck the flow’rs of pleasure, or of pride. 
Her gifts despis’d, corruption blush’d, and fled,
And fame pursu’d him, where conviction led. 
Age call’d, at length, his active mind to rest,
With honour sated, and with cares oppress’d;
To letter’d ease retir’d, and honest mirth,
To rural grandeur and domestick worth;
Delighted still to please mankind, or mend,
The patriot’s fire yet sparkled in the friend. 
Calm conscience, then, his former life survey’d,
And recollected toils endear’d the shade,
Till nature call’d him to the gen’ral doom,
And virtue’s sorrow dignified his tomb.

[a] At Hanmer church, in Flintshire.
[b] This paraphrase is inserted in Mrs. Williams’s Miscellanies.  The
    Latin is there said to be written by Dr. Freind.  Of the person whose
    memory it celebrates, a copious account may be seen in the appendix
    to the supplement to the Biographia Britannica.

TO MISS HICKMAN[a],
PLAYING ON THE SPINET.

Bright Stella, form’d for universal reign,
Too well you know to keep the slaves you gain;
When in your eyes resistless lightnings play,
Aw’d into love our conquer’d hearts obey,
And yield reluctant to despotick sway: 
But, when your musick sooths the raging pain,
We bid propitious heav’n prolong your reign,
We bless the tyrant, and we hug the chain.