Sir, Being informed that you speedily intend to publish some memoirs relating to our dumb countryman, Dickory Cronke, I send you herewith a few lines, in the nature of an elegy, which I leave you to dispose of as you think fit. I knew and admired the man; and if I were capable, his character should be the first thing I would attempt. Yours. &c. |
———Vitiis nemo sine nascitur; optimus ille est, HORACE.
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If virtuous actions emulation raise,
He always kept a guard upon his will
No gainful views his bounded hopes could sway,
J. P.
Exeter College, |
Near to this lonely unfrequented place, Mixed with the common dust, neglected lies The man that every muse should strive to grace, And all the world should for his virtue prize. Stop, gentle passenger, and drop a tear, Truth, justice, wisdom, all lie buried here.
What, though he wants a monumental stone,
Oh, had I power but equal to my mind, |