This was the tomb of Alexander, The Macedonian great Commander, Who dealt about his killing blows Alike among his friends and foes: Who went on plundering, burning, stabbing, Carouzing, catamiting, drabbing, Kept a Castrato[25] for his punk, And died[26] heroically drunk: And if at last he went to hell, I warrant he deserved it well; Whate’er is said by flatt’ring Mitford, Who thinks he is gone to heav’n, and fit for ’t. [25] Q. Curt. b. x. c. 3. &c. [26] Athenæus, b. 10. c. 9. p. 434. Αλεξανδρος λαβων (το ποτηριον) _εσπασε_ μεν _γενναιως_,——εκ τουτου νοσησας απεθανε. Alexander took the cup, and _pulled nobly_ at it. Mem. It held near a gallon, and he had emptied it once already. INSCRIPTION FOR A STATUE OF FIELD-MARSHAL SUWOROW. This was a Warrior of renown, A Hero bred, and born to kill; Who scrupled not to shed his own[27], When he lack’d other blood to spill. And often would he turn his arms On those within his bosom bred, And quell by fire the mighty swarms[28] That with his life-blood he had fed. His person, cover’d o’er with glory, In truth was little clean or nice; And ’tis a question in his story, Whether he kill’d more men[29] or lice. [27] It is related of him, that in his march to the attack of Oczakow, he proceeded with such rapidity at the head of his men, that they began to murmur at the fatigues which they endured. The marshal, apprised of the circumstance, after a long day’s march, drew up his men in a hollow square, and addressing them said, that “his legs had that day discovered some symptoms of mutiny, as they refused to second the impulses of his mind, which urged him forward to the attack of the enemy’s fortress.” He then ordered his boots to be taken off, and some of the drummers to advance and flog his legs, which was done till they bled very considerably. He then put on his boots very coolly, expressing his hope that his legs would in future better know how to discharge their duty. His army afterwards marched on without a murmur. [28] Suworow affectoit beaucoup de simplicité et de rudesse. On le voyoit quelquefois ôter sa chemise au milieu des Cosaques, et la fain chauffer, en disant que c’étoit _pour tuer ses poux_. Vie de Catherine II. tome ii. p. 373. [29] The number of men slaughtered by this hero was at the rate of more than thirty a week, reckoning from the day of his birth to the age of 69 years, according to the account given in the history of his campaigns, by Frederic Anthing. ON FIELD-MARSHAL SUWOROW. A DIALOGUE. _A._ This Hero, though delighting much in blood, Was yet a tender-hearted creature.—_B._ Good. _A._ Without remorse he slaughter’d Turk and Pole, But still his nerves were very weak.—_B._ Poor soul! _A._ And he became a prey to grief, for why, His master frown’d upon him.—_B._ O fie! fie!