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.
———Vitiis nemo sine nascitur; optimus ille est,
If virtuous actions emulation raise,
He always kept a guard upon his will
No gainful views his bounded hopes could sway,
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,