EPITAPH On a Young NOBLEMAN, Kill'd in an ENGAGEMENT at SEA. Youth, beauty, strength, the trophy, and the bust, Not these his honours to the Tomb we trust; But modest manners, innocent of art, The open nature, and the moral heart. Such love of truth as ancient Britains bore, Such fortitude, as never Roman more: And call'd betimes, his task of glory done, To mix with nature's social as his own.