In Rev. Dre. Brooke Epitaphium.[133]

Posuit sub ista, non gravi, caput terra Ille, ipsa quem mors arrogare vix ausa Didicit vereri, plurimumque suspenso Dubitavit ictu, lucidos procul vultus, Et sidus oris acre procul prospectans. Cui literarum fama cum dedit lumen, Accepit, atque est ditior suis donis. Cujus serena gravitas faciles mores Muliere novit; cujus in senectute Famaeque riguit, et juventa fortunae. Ita brevis aevi, ut nec videri festinus; Ita longus, ut nec fessus. Et hunc mori credis?

TRANSLATION.

EPITAPH ON REV. DR. BROOK.

Beneath this earth, strew'd lightly, lies the head Of one whom Death himself had learnt to dread, Scarce venturing to claim; and falter'd much Ere he allow'd his threatening stroke to touch That sacred presence. These bright eyes from far He view'd; from far that face ray'd like a star. On whom when fame of letters lustre drew, He took it as his right, and richer grew By his own gifts to learning; whose serene Severity of manners seem'd to have been Temper'd by woman's softness; whose good name, In later as in early years the same, Stood firm; his fortune equal to his fame. His life so short, that not in haste he seem'd; So long, that weary he might not be deem'd: That such a one is dead, can it be dream'd? R. WI.