Xll 



LIFE OF GOLDSMITH. 



OLIVARI GOLDSMITH, 



Poetae, Physici, Historic!, 

 qui nullum fere scribendi genus 



non tetigit, 



nullum quod tetigit non ornavit; 

 sive risus cssent movendi, 



sive lacrymae, 



affectuum potens, at lenis dominator ; 



ingeoio sublimis, vividus, versatilis ; 



oratione grandis, p.itidus, venustus j 



hoc monumento memoriain coluit 



sodalium amor, 



amicorum fides, 



lectorum veneratio. 



Natus Hibernia, Forniae Lonfordiensis, 



in loco cui nomen Pallas, 



Nov. xxix. MDCCXXXI. 



Eblanre liter is insti tutus, 



obiit Londini, 

 April iv. MbCCLXXIV. 



Trantlation. 

 This monument is raised to the memory of 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH, 



Poet, Natural Philosopher, and Historian, 



who left no species of writing untouched, or 



unadorned by his pen, 



whether to move laughter, or draw tears : 



he was a powerful master over the affections, 



though at the same time, a gentle tyrant ; 



of a genius 

 at once sublime, lively, and equal to every subject : 



in expression at once noble, pure, and delicate. 

 His memory will last as long as society retains affection, 



friendship is not void of honour, 



and reading wants not her admirers. 



He was born in the kingdom of Ireland, at Femes, 



in the province of Leinster, 

 Where Pallas had set her name, 



Nov. 29, 1731. 



He was educated at Dublin, and died in London, 

 April 4, 1774. 



We insert the following lines, in verse and prose, written by a friend immediately after his 

 death, as they were deemed faithful transcripts of his character. 



Here rests, from the cares of the world and his pen, 

 A poet, whose like we shall scarce meet again ; 

 Who, though form'd in an age when corruption ran 



high, 



And folly alone seem'd with folly to vie ; 

 When genius, with traffic too commonly train'd, 

 Recounted her merits by what she hacPgain'd ; 

 Yet spurn'd at those walks of debasement and pelf, 

 And in poverty's spite dar'd to think for himself. 

 Thus free'd from those fetters the muses oft bind, 

 He wrote from the heart to the hearts of mankind ; 

 And such was the prevalent force of his song, 

 Sex, ages, and parties, he drew in a throng. 



The lovers 'twas theirs to esteem and commend, 

 /for his Hermit had prov'd him their tutor and friend : 

 > The statesmen, his politic passions on fire, 

 Acknowledg'd repose from the charms of his lyre. 

 The moralist too had a feel for his rhymes, 

 For his Essays were curbs on the rage of the times ; 

 Nay, the critic, all school'd in grammatical sense, 

 Who look'd in the glow of description for sense ; 



Reform'd as he read, fell a dupe to his art, 



And confess'd by his eyes what he felt at his heart. 



Yet, blest with original powers like these, 



His principal force was on paper to please ; 



Like a fleet-footed hunter, though first in the chace, 



On the road of plain sense he oit slacken'd his pace ; 



Whilst dullness and cunning, by whipping and goring, 



Tlieir hard-footed hackneys paraded before him ; 



Compounded likewise of sucli primitive parts, 



That his manners alone would have gain'd him our hearts. 



So simple in truth, so ingenuously kind, 

 So ready to feel for the wants of mankind ; 

 Yet praise but an author of popular quill, 

 His flux of philanthropy quickly stood still; 

 Transform'd from himself, he grew meanly severe, 

 And rail'd at those talents he ought not to fear. 



Such then were his foibles ; but though they were such 

 As shadow'd the picture a little too much, 

 The style was all graceful, expressive ind grand, 

 And the whole the result of a masterly hand. 



