Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind: dining: † Though equal to all things, for all things unfit; Here lies honest William, whose heart was a mint, While the owner ne'er knew half the good that was in't: The pupil of impulse, it forced him along, His conduct still right, with his argument wrong; * Mr. T. Townshend, member for Whitchurch, afterwards Lord Sydney. † Mr. Burke's speeches in Parliament, though distinguished by all the force of reasoning and eloquence of their highly-gifted author, were not always listened to with patience by his brother members, who not unfrequently took the opportunity of retiring to dinner when he rose to speak. To this circumstance, which procured for the orator the sobriquet of the Dinner Bell, allusion is bere made. Here lies honest Richard, whose fate I must sigh at; That we wish'd him full ten times a-day at Old Nick. As often we wish'd to have Dick back again. Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts, His fools have their follies so lost in a crowd To find out men's virtues, and finding them few, *Mr. Richard Burke having slightly fractured an arm and a leg at different times, the Doctor has rallied him on these accidents, as a kind of retributive justice, for breaking jests upon other people. He grew lazy at last, and drew from himself? Here Douglas retires from his toils to relax, The scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks: Come, all ye quack bards, and ye quacking divines, Come, and dance on the spot where your tyrant reclines: When satire and censure encircled his throne, I fear'd for your safety, I fear'd for my own; But now he is gone, and we want a detector, Our Dodds* shall be pious, our Kenricks † shall lecture; Our Townshend make speeches, and I shall compile: And Scotchman meet Scotchman, and cheat in the dark. *The Rev. Dr. Dodd, who was executed for forgery. † Dr. Kenrick, who read lectures at the Devil Tavern, under the title of The School of Shakspeare.' He was a well-known writer, of prodigious versatility, and some talent. Dr. Johnson observed of him. He is one of the many who have made themselves public, without making themselves known.' James Macpherson, Esq., who from the mere force of his style, wrote down the first poet of all antiquity. § William Lauder, who, by interpolating certain passages from the Adamus Exul of Grotius, with translations from Paradise Lost, endeavored to fix on Milton a charge of plagiarism from the modern Latin poets. Dr. Douglas detected and exposed this imposture, and extorted from the author a confession and apology. Archibald Bower, a Scottish Jesuit, and author of a History of the Popes from St. Peter to Lambertini. Dr. Douglas convicted Bower of gross imposture, and totally destroyed the credit of his history. An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man; As a wit, if not first, in the very first line: For he knew when he pleased he could whistle them back. gave! How did Grub-street re-echo the shouts that you raised, While he was be-Roscius'd, and you were be-praised! But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies, To act as an angel and mix with the skies: * Mr. Hugh Kelley, originally a staymaker, afterwards a news paper editor and dramatist, and latterly a barrister. † Mr. William Woodfall, printer of the Morning Chronicle. Those poets who owe their best fame to his skill, Old Shakspeare receive him with praise and with love, And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kelleys above. Here Hickey reclines, a most blunt, pleasant creature, And slander itself must allow him good nature; He cherish'd his friend, and he relish'd a bumper; Yet one fault he had, and that one was a thumper. Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser? I answer, No, no, for he always was wiser. Too courteous, perhaps, or obligingly flat? His very worst foe can't accuse him of that. Perhaps he confided in men as they go, And so was too foolishly honest? Ah, no! Then what was his failing? come tell it, and burn ye: He was, could he help it? a special attorney. Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind; His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart. When they judged without skill, he was still hard of hearing: When they talked of their Raphaels, Corregios, and stuff, He shifted his trumpet,* and only took snuff. * Sir Joshua Reynolds was so deaf as to be under the necessity of using an ear-trumpet in company. |