Here lies the good Dean, reunited to earth, Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth: If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt; At least, in six weeks I could not find 'em out; Yet some have declared, and it can't be denied 'em, That Sly-boots was cursedly cunning to hide 'em. Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it or blame it too much; Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat To persuade Tommy Townshend[15] to lend him a vote; Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining: Though equal to all things, for all things unfit, Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit; For a patriot, too cool; for a drudge, disobedient; And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient. In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd or in place, sir, To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor. Here lies honest William, whose heart was a mint, While the owner ne'er knew half the good that was in't; The pupil of impulse, it forced him along, His conduct still right, with his argument wrong; Still aiming at honour, yet fearing to roam,— The coachman was tipsy, the chariot drove home: Would you ask for his merits? alas! he had none: What was good was spontaneous, his faults were his own. Here lies honest Richard, whose fate I must sigh at; Alas! that such frolic should now be so quiet! What spirits were his! what wit and what whim! Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb![16] Now wrangling and grumbling, to keep up the ball! Now teasing and vexing, yet laughing at all! In short, so provoking a devil was Dick, That we wish'd him full ten times a day at Old Nick; But missing his mirth and agreeable vein, As often we wish'd to have Dick back again. Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts, The Terence of England, the mender of hearts; A flattering painter, who made it his care To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are. Footnote 15: Mr. Thomas Townshend, member for Whitchurch. Footnote 16: Mr. Richard Burke. This gentleman having fractured an arm and a leg at different times, the Doctor has rallied him on these accidents, as a kind of retributive justice for breaking his jests upon other people. [Illustration: _Dr. Goldsmith and some of his friends at the St. James's Coffee-house._—_p._ 219. ]