Lovers are plenty; but fail to relieve me. 1 Sir, I send you a small production of the late Dr. Goldsmith, which has never been published, and which might perhaps have been totally lost, had I not secured it. He intended it as a song in the character of Miss Hardcastle, in his admirable comedy of She Stoops to Conquer,' but it was left out, as Mrs. Bulkley, who played the part, did not sing. He sung it himself, in private companies very agreeably. The tune is a pretty Irish air, called The Humours of Balamagairy,' to which he told me he found it very difficult to adapt words; but he has succeeded very happily in these few lines. As I could sing the tune, and was fond of them, he was so good as to give me them, about a year ago, just as I was leaving London, and bidding him adieu for that season, little apprehending that it was a last farewell. I preserve this little relic, in his own handwriting, with an affectionate care. I am, Sir, Your bumble Servant, JAMES BOSWELL. MIDST the clamour of e Which triumph forces f ef dares to mingle her And quells the rapture start. STANZAS ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC. IDST the clamour of exulting joys, start. Wolfe, to thee a streaming flood of woe, Sighing we pay, and think e'en conquest dear; uebec in vain shall teach our breast to glow, Whilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear. live the foe thy dreadful vigour fled, And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes: et they shall know thou conquerest, tho' dead! Since from thy tomb a thousand heroes rise. EPITAPH ON DR. PARNELL. THIS tomb inscrib'd to gentle1 Parnell's name, EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON.2 HERE lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery freed, He led such a damnable life in this world,— I don't think he'll wish to come back. 1 " With softest manners, gentlest arts adorn'd.' 2 This gentleman was educated at Trinity College, Dublin; but having wasted his patrimony, he enlisted as a foot soldier: growing tired of that employment, he obtained his discharge, and became a scribbler in the newspapers. He translated Voltaire's HENRIADE. AN ELEGY ON THE MRS. MA GooD people all, w Lament for mada The needy seldom She strove the ne Unless when s At church, in sil Her love was so The king himse 1 AN ELEGY ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS. MARY BLAIZE.1 GOOD people all, with one accord, The needy seldom pass'd her door, She strove the neighbourhood to please, At church, in silks and satins new, Her love was sought, I do aver, 1 See The Bee, p. 128. But now her wealth and finery fled, Her hangers-on cut short all; The doctors found, when she was dead Her last disorder mortal. Let us lament, in sorrow sore, For Kent-street well may say, That had she liv'd a twelvemonth more- 2 This poem is an imitation of the chanson, called 'Le fameux la Galisse, homme imaginaire,' in fifty stanzas, printed in the Menagiana, iv. 191. 'Messieurs, vous plait-il d'ouir Pourvu qu'il vous divertisse. |