Alexander Pope’s epitaph for the playwright Nicholas Rowe, buried in Westminster Abbey near John Dryden, begins with a reverent gesture—placing Rowe’s remains in a fair urn beside Dryden’s awe-inspiring dust. Dryden’s grave, however, is marked only by a rough, uninscribed stone. Rowe’s more visible tomb will catch the eye and draw visitors to notice Dryden’s neglected spot. The speaker then offers a blessing: peace for Rowe’s gentle spirit, and praise for his genius and his loving heart. The closing lines carry a sharp contrast: one grateful woman (probably Rowe’s widow) has given him the tribute that an entire thankless nation denied to Dryden. The overall mood is serene and respectful, but beneath it runs a current of gentle outrage at the country’s failure to honor its great poet.
Epitaph. Intended for Mr Rowe, in Westminster Abbey. — Summary
Thy relics, Rowe, to this fair urn we trust, And sacred place by Dryden's awful dust: Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies, To which thy tomb shall guide inquiring eyes. Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest! Blest in thy genius, in thy love, too, blest! One grateful woman to thy fame supplies What a whole thankless land to his denies.