One of the most affecting and tender compositions of Mr. Pope, is, his Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady, built on a true story.  We are informed in the Life of Pope, for which Curl obtained a patent, that this young lady was a particular favourite of the poet, though it is not ascertained whether he himself was the person from whom she was removed.  This young lady was of very high birth, possessed an opulent fortune, and under the tutorage of an uncle, who gave her an education suitable to her titles and pretensions.  She was esteemed a match for the greatest peer in the realm, but, in her early years, she suffered her heart to be engaged by a young gentleman, and in consequence of this attachment, rejected offers made to her by persons of quality, seconded by the sollicitations of her uncle.  Her guardian being surprized at this behaviour, set spies upon her, to find out the real cause of her indifference.  Her correspondence with her lover was soon discovered, and, when urged upon that topic, she had too much truth and honour to deny it.  The uncle finding, that she would make no efforts to disengage her affection, after a little time forced her abroad, where she was received with a ceremony due to her quality, but restricted from the conversation of every one, but the spies of this severe guardian, so that it was impossible for her lover even to have a letter delivered to her hands.  She languished in this place a considerable time, bore an infinite deal of sickness, and was overwhelmed with the profoundest sorrow.  Nature being wearied out with continual distress, and being driven at last to despair, the unfortunate lady, as Mr. Pope justly calls her, put an end to her own life, having bribed a maid servant to procure her a sword.  She was found upon the ground weltering in her blood.  The severity of the laws of the place, where this fair unfortunate perished, denied her Christian burial, and she was interred without solemnity, or even any attendants to perform the last offices of the dead, except some young people of the neighbourhood, who saw her put into common ground, and strewed the grave with flowers.

The poet in the elegy takes occasion to mingle with the tears of sorrow, just reproaches upon her cruel uncle, who drove her to this violation.

  But thou, false guardian of a charge too good,
  Thou base betrayer of a brother’s blood! 
  See on those ruby lips the trembling breath,
  Those cheeks now fading at the blast of death: 
  Lifeless the breast, which warm’d the world before,
  And those love-darting eyes must roll no more.

The conclusion of this elegy is irresistably affecting.

  So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name,
  Which once had beauty, titles, wealth and fame,
  How lov’d, how honoured once, avails thee not,
  To whom related, or by whom begot;
  A heap of dust alone remains of thee;
  ’Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!