28 Bight Hon. Sir M. E. Grant Buff [Jan. 27, 



of October, 1805, supported by the remembrance of bis virtue, and 

 by tbe sentiments of piety which had actuated his whole life. His 

 remains are interred on the spot where he died, on the banks of that 

 famous river, which washes no country not either blessed by his 

 Government, or visited by his renown ; and in the heart of that 

 province so long the chosen seat of religion and learning in India, 

 which under the influence of his beneficial system, and under the 

 administration of good men whom he had chosen, had risen from a 

 state of decline and confusion to one of prosperity probably unrivalled 

 in the happiest times of its ancient princes. His body is buried in 

 peace, and his name liveth for evermore." 



When I was passing through Bombay in the autumn of 1874 an 

 epitaph was repeated to me which I thought extremely good. It 

 was on Major D'Oyley, an artillery officer who died in the Mutiny, 

 and ran as follows : — 



Here lies the body of Major D'Oyley of The Bengal Artillery 

 Whose last wish : " When I am dead, put 

 A stone over me and write upon it that 

 I died fighting my guns," is thus fulfilled. 



Later the exact words were sent to me, but they were not quite so 

 few nor so good. 



Over Campbell in Westminster Abbey they put — they could not 

 have done otherwise, his own fine lines : — 



This spirit shall return to Him 



Who gave its heavenly spark ; 

 Yet, think not, sun, it shall be dim 



When thou thyself art dark ! 

 No ! it shall live again and shine 



In bliss unknown to beams of thine, 

 By Him recall'd to breath, 



Who captive led captivity, 

 Who robb'd the grave of victory 



And took the sting from death. 



Not less happily inspired were those who wrote on the tomb of 

 Mrs. Hemans in St. Ann's, Dublin. 



Calm in the bosom of thy God, 



Fair spirit rest thee now ; 

 E'en while with us thy footsteps trod, 



His seal was on thy brow. 

 Dust to its narrow house beneath, 



Soul to its place on high ! 

 They that have seen thy look in death, 



No more may fear to die. 



They might have added the lines in which Wordsworth described 

 the poetess who, somewhat overrated in her own time, has been quite 

 absurdly underrated in ours, but who will probably have a return of 

 fame when people get tired of the clotted nonsense or the harmonious 



