Richard Savage

Anonymous, "On Richard Savage, who died in Prison at Bristol for a small Sum, which he was unable to pay" London Post (7 October 1743).

With fragrant Roses and the Myrtle's Bloom,
With ev'ry fFower strew this sacred Tomb;
Here twine the ever verdant Laurel's Wreath,
Around let all Arabia's Incense breath;
For why should I thy Tomb with Tears distain,
And weep, like others, of the tuneful Train?
Bewail thee landed on the farthest Shore,
Escap'd from Shipwrecks — you can fear no more;
Mixt with the ever happy Choir above,
Whose sole Employment is to sing and love;
To tune their golden Lyres to Lays divine,
To such celestial Lays — as once — were thine!
Escap'd from Scenes diversify'd with Woe,
(For such was thy ill-fated Lot below)
From such bad Scenes by pitying Heaven torn—
It is not Grief — but Envy — now to mourn;
Envy in me — thro' each hard Instance try'd,
Who with thee gladly cou'd have liv'd — and dy'd.