In short, 'twas his fate, unemployed or in Here Cumberland lies, having acted his place, sir, parts To eat mutton cold and cut blocks with a The Terence of England, the mender of razor. Here lies honest William,1 whose heart was a mint, hearts; A flattering painter, who made it his care While the owner ne'er knew half the good His gallants are all faultless, his women di that was in't; The pupil of impulse, it forced him along, wrong; Still aiming at honor, yet fearing to roam, The coachman was tipsy, the chariot drove home : His fools have their follies so lost in a crowd ask for his merits? Alas! he Of virtues and feelings that Folly grows Would you ask for his merits? proud, had none: What was good was spontaneous; his faults And coxcombs, alike in their failings alone, were his own. Adopting his portraits, are pleased with their own. Here lies honest Richard, whose fate I must Say, where has our poet this malady caught, sigh at; Alas that such frolic should now be so quiet! Or wherefore his characters thus without fault? Say, was it that, vainly directing his view What spirits were his! what wit and what To find out men's virtues and finding them whim! few, Now breaking a jest and now breaking a Quite sick of pursuing each troublesome elf, limb,3 He grew lazy at last and drew from him Now wrangling and grumbling to keep up Now teasing and vexing, yet laughing at all. Old Nick; But, missing his mirth and agreeable vein, 1 William Burke. See note 3, p. 22. 2 Mr. Richard Burke. See note 4, p. 22. Richard Burke was fond of a jest, and was unfortunate enough to fracture both an arm and a leg. self? Here Douglas retires from his toils to relaxThe scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks. Come, all ye quack bards and ye quacking divines, Come and dance on the spot where your ty- When satire and censure encircled his throne. own; But, now he has gone and we want a detector, | On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting; Our Dodds' shall be pious, our Kenricks 'Twas only that when he was off he was act Here lies David Garrick-describe me who Of praise a mere glutton, he swallowed what An abridgment of all that was pleasant in And the puff of a dunce, he mistook it for man; As an actor, confest without rival to shine; As a wit, if not first, in the very first line. Yet, with talents like these and an excellent heart, The man had his failings, a dupe to his art. Like an ill-judging beauty, his colors he spread, And beplastered with rouge his own natural red. 1The Rev. Dr. William Dodd, afterward (1777) hanged How did Grub Street re-echo the shouts that for forgery. 2 William Kenrick, LL.D. (died 1779), lexicographer, reviewer, dramatist, and the bitter enemy of Goldsmith. He read lectures at the Devil Tavern under the title of 'The School of Shakespeare." "I remember, one evening, when some of Kenrick's works were mentioned, Dr. Goldsmith said he had never heard of them; upon which Dr. Johnson observed, Sir, he is one of the many who have made themselves public with out making themselves known." "—" Boswell," by Croaker, p. 171. 3 James Macpherson, Esq. Died 1796. Goldsmith alludes to his prose translation of Homer. William Lauder (died 1771) and Archibald Bower (died 1766) were two Scotch authors of very indifferent moral and literary reputations. you raised, While he was be-Roscius'd and you were bepraised! But peace to his spirit wherever it flies, To act as an angel and mix with the skies. Those poets who owe their best fame to his skill Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will— 5 Hugh Kelly, author of False Delicacy, Word to the Wise, Clementina, School for Wives. Died 1777. • William Woodfall, printer of the Morning Chronicle. Died 1803. Old Shakespeare receive him with praise and | To coxcombs averse, yet, most civilly steer And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys When they judged without skill he was still above.1 Here Hickey reclines, a most blunt pleasant creature, And slander itself must allow him good nature; hard of hearing; When they talked of their Raphaels, Correggios and stuff, He shifted his trumpet and only took snuff.3 POSTSCRIPT. He cherished his friend, and he relished a Here Whitefoord reclines, and, deny it who bumper; Yet one fault he had, and that one was a Though he merrily lived, he is now a grave thumper. Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser? I answer, No, no! for he always was wiser. He was--could he help it ?a special attorney. can, man; Rare compound of oddity, frolic and fun, Who relished a joke and rejoiced in a pun; Whose temper was generous, open, sincere; A stranger to flatt'ry, a stranger to fear; Who scattered around wit and humor at will; Whose daily bon mots half a column might fill; A Scotchman, from pride and from prejudice free; A scholar, yet surely no pedant was he. Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my What pity, alas! that so lib'ral a mind |