"Farewell, great painter of mankind, Who reach'd the noblest point of art; Whose pictur'd morals charm the mind, And through the eye correct the heart. If _genius_ fire thee, reader, stay, If _nature_ touch thee, drop a tear; If neither move thee, turn away, For _Hogarth's_ honoured dust lies here." On a third side is this inscription: "Here lieth the body Of Dame _Judith Thornhill_, Relict of Sir _James Thornhill_, knight, Of _Thornhill_ in the county of _Dorset_. She died _November_ the 12th, 1757, Aged 84 years." And on the fourth side: "Here lieth the body Of Mrs. _Anne Hogarth_, sister to _William Hogarth_, Esq. She died _August_ the 13th, 1771, Aged 70 years." Mr. _Hayley_, in his justly admired _Epistle to an Eminent Painter_ (Mr. _Romney_), has since expressed himself concerning our artist in terms that confer yet higher honours on his comic excellence: "Nor, if her favour'd hand may hope to shed The flowers of glory o'er the skilful dead, Thy talents, _Hogarth!_ will she leave unsung; Charm of all eyes, and Theme of every tongue! A separate province 'twas thy praise to rule; Self-form'd thy Pencil! yet thy works a School, Where strongly painted, in gradations nice, The Pomp of Folly, and the Shame of Vice, Reach'd thro' the laughing Eye the mended Mind, And moral Humour sportive Art refin'd. While fleeting Manners, as minutely shown As the clear prospect on the mirror thrown; While Truth of Character, exactly hit, And drest in all the dyes of comic wit; While these, in _Fielding's_ page, delights supply, So long thy Pencil with his Pen shall vie. Science with grief beheld thy drooping age Fall the sad victim of a Poet's rage: But Wit's vindictive spleen, that mocks controul, Nature's high tax on luxury of soul! This, both in Bards and Painters, Fame forgives Their Frailty's buried, but their Genius lives." Thus far the encomiast, who seeks only for opportunities of bestowing praise. A more impartial narrative will be expected from the biographer.