Bion Re oR ¥: [513 
A Poet too he was, not very bright, 
Something between a Jerningham and (a) Knight: 
He dealt in tragic, epic, critic lore, 
With half, whole plans, and episodes in store, 
Method was all; yet would he seldom write, 
\ He fear’d the ground-plot wrong, or—out of sight. 
At last the Doctor gave his friends a work! 
(Not verse, like Cowper, or high prose, like Burke), 
CuamBers Asripe’d! in sooth ’twas all he read, 
From fruitful A to unproduétive Zed. 
RicHarvson, Roussrau, anp GogrTtuHrR. 
From Thompson's Paradise of Taste. 
Wwrat other names some other tombs might show, 
(Such was our haste) we did not stop to see; 
But moving onward, gain’d the vault of woe, 
Where mournful passion reach’d its last degree, 
For there eternal silence reign’d profound, 
And all the naked wall, with horror hung ; 
And there one dying lamp o’er all around, _ 
With quiv’ring flame, the light of darkness flung. 
Full in the midst a sable coffin stood, 
On which reclin’d the priest of virtue lay, 
Of all that e’er essay’d the melting mood, 
Who rul’d the heart with most despotic sway. 
*Twas he who told so well the the touching tale, - 
Of proud Bologna’s melancholy maid, > 
And taught the world Clarissa’s fate to wail, 
By tyrant force and hellish fraud betray’d. 
Two pensive pupils at his feet were laid, 
Who drew sweet pictures of domestic life ; 
Whose art in Virtue’s tend’rest robe arrayed, 
The forms of Wolmar’s and of Albert’s wife. 
The friend of Julia, from her soul refin’d, 
Obtain’d a balm to soothe his am’rous woe ; 
While here no rest could Werter’s spirit find, 
But rush’d indignant to the shades below. 
&s- 
(2) Knight and Jerningham. 
 Soyex plutot to a si c'est votre talent, 
Ouvrier estimé dans un art necessaire, 
Qe écrivain du commun, &T poste wulguire.” 
Avis de Boileav, A, P. chap. 4. 
Vo. XXXVIIL LI ACCOUNT 
