Here lie the ashes of Mr. John Gay, the warmest friend, the gentlest companion, the most benevolent man; who maintained independency in low circumstances of fortune; integrity, in the midst of a corrupt age; and that equal serenity of mind, which conscious goodness alone can give, throughout the whole course of his life. Favourite of the Muses, he was led by them to every elegant art, refined in taste, and fraught with graces all his own. In various kinds of poetry, superior to many, inferior to none: his works continue to inspire what his example taught; contempt of folly, however adorned; detestation of vice, however dignified; reverence of virtue, however disgraced.
Charles and Catharine, Duke and Duchess of Queensberry, who loved his person living, and regret him dead, have caused this monument to be erected to his memory.
17. The next is a most magnificent, lofty and elegant monument, erected to the late Duke of Argyle, enclosed with rails, and decorated with figures finely executed. The statue of the Duke is spirited even at the verge of life. On one side of the base is Pallas, and on the other Eloquence; the one looking sorrowfully up at the principal figure above, and the other pathetically displaying the public loss at his death. Above is the figure of History, with one hand holding a book, and with the other writing on a pyramid of most beautiful variegated marble, admirably polished, the name and titles of the Hero in large gold letters, JOHN DUKE OF ARGYLE AND GR. at which point the pen of History rests. His actions are supposed to be contained in the book she holds in her other hand, on the cover of which in letters of gold are inscribed the date of his Grace’s death, and the years of his life. Above is inscribed on this beautiful pyramid in gold letters, the following epitaph, said to be written by Paul Whitehead, Esq;
Britain, behold, if patriot worth be dear,
A shrine that claims thy tributary tear:
Silent that tongue admiring Senates heard:
Nerveless that arm opposing legions fear’d:
Nor less, O Campbell! thine the pow’r to please,
And give to grandeur all the grace of ease.
Long from thy life let kindred heroes trace