For sending so late To be frolic like him. 1 But, alas! your good worships, how could they be wiser, When both have been spoil'd in to-day's Advertiser ? 1 OLIVER GOLDSMITII. EPITAPH ON THOMAS PARNELL.2 THIS tomb, inscrib'd to gentle Parnell's name, The transitory breath of fame below: More lasting rapture from his works shall rise, The following is the compliment alluded to: "While fair Angelica, with matchless grace, Paints Conway's lovely form and Stanhope's face, O Reynolds! with astonishment we see, From "The Haunch of Venison," etc., 1776. Written about the year 1770, but never inscribed on any stone or brass over Parnell's grave. Parnell died in 1718, and was buried in Trinity Church, Chester. Goldsmith wrote his Life. See Vol. IV. 3 In these bold times, when Learning's sons explore Where are we driven? our reckoning sure is lost! [Upper Gallery. There mangroves spread, and larger than I've seen 'em; Here trees of stately size-and turtles in 'em; [Pit. [Balconies. 1 "Zobeide," a tragedy, by Joseph Cradock, Esq., was first represented at Covent Garden on the 10th of December, 1771, and was well received (see p. 101). The text here given is that of the third edition of "Zobeide," 1772, 8vo. "Mr. Goldsmith presents his best respects to Mr. Cradock; has sent him the • prologue, such as it is. He cannot take time to make it better. He begs he will give Mr. Yates the proper instructions; and so, even so, he commits him to fortune and the public." Mr. Yates was to have spoken the prologue. John Quick, the original Tony Lumpkin in Goldsmith's comedy, and the favorite actor of George III. Died April 4, 1831, aged eighty-three. 3 Cook and Green. 4 Banks and Solander. Here ill-conditioned oranges abound; [Stage. And apples [Takes up one and tastes it]-bitter apples-strew the ground. The place is uninhabited, I fear: I heard a hissing-there are serpents here! Oh, there the natives are a dreadful race; The men have tails, the women paint the face. No doubt they're all barbarians. Yes, 'tis so; I'll try to make palaver with them, though; [Making signs. 'Tis best, however, keeping at a distance. Good savages, our Captain craves assistance. Our ship's well stor'd; in yonder creek we've laid her; His honor is no mercenary trader.' This is his first adventure; lend him aid, Or you may chance to spoil a thriving trade. His goods, he hopes, are prime, and brought from far, Equally fit for gallantry and war. What! no reply to promises so ample? I'd best step back-and order up a sample. 1 Any profits that might accrue from the representation of his tragedy Cradock had given to Mrs. Yates, who greatly distinguished herself in the part of Zobeide. THIRENODIA AUGUSTALIS;' SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS-DOWAGER OF WALES, 2 1772. ADVERTISEMENT. The following may more properly be termed a compilation than a poem. It was prepared for the composer in little more than two days, and may therefore rather be considered as an industrious effort of gratitude than of genius. In justice to the composer, it may likewise be right to inform the public that the music was composed in a period of time equally short. OVERTURE.-A Solemn Dirge. ARISE, ye sons of worth, arise, And waken every note of woe! When truth and virtue reach the skies, 'Tis ours to weep the want below. Chorus. When truth and virtue, etc. MAN Speaker. The praise attending pomp and power, Are but the trappings of an hour— Mere transitory things: The base bestow them, but the good agree To spurn the venal gifts as flattery; 1 This hurried and unworthy offspring of the muse of Goldsmith was performed in Mrs. Cornley's Great Room, in Soho Square, 20th February, 1772, and first printed by W. Woodfall in 1772, small 4to. The composer was Signor Vento; the speakers, Mr. Lee and Mrs. Bellamy; and the singers, Mr. Champness, Mr. Dine, and Miss Jameson. Widow of Frederick, Prince of Wales, and mother of King George III. Died When titles are the smallest claim; When wealth and rank and noble blood But aid the power of doing good; Then all their trophies last-and flattery turns to fame. Blest spirit thou, whose fame, just born to bloom, Alas! they never had thy hate; SONG. By a MAN. Virtue, on herself relying, Ev'ry added pang she suffers, And ev'ry shock that malice offers WOMAN Speaker. Yet, ah! what terrors frown'd upon her fate! Death with its formidable band, Fever, and pain, and pale consumptive care, |