But as we were saying, he proceeded to Lisbon, where he would have died a victim to the want of proper attention and attendance, but that the incidental recommendation of a friend, procured for him hospitality of no ordinary kind or extent. All was, however, unavailing, and he returned without benefit. He did not survive a great while afterwards, but to the last, retained his native sweetness of temper, unruffled by sufferings, and his elegance of taste and powers of intellect, unclouded and undiminished. Peace to his ashes. A purer spirit has not heaven. He died at the early age of twenty-four; yet in that short interval, he directed the national taste to the investigation of natural and simple beauties, which had long lurked unnoticed and unknown, in the productions of our earlier bards; and had he lived, would, beyond all doubt, have pursued the course of his studious propensities, and have brought to maturity somewhat of still greater importance to the literature of his country. A few specimens of this young man’s taste and talents will be found in the Appendix, but the following Song, which is not printed with his works, seems to merit insertion here. SONG. (_The sentiments borrowed from Shakspeare._) 1. Young Damon of the vale is dead, Ye lowland hamlets mourn, A dewy turf lies o’er his head, And at his feet a stone. 2. His shroud which death cold damps destroy, Of snow-white threads was made, All mourned to see so sweet a boy In earth for ever laid. 3. Pale pansies o’er his corpse were placed, Which plucked before their time, Bestrewed the boy like him to waste, And wither in their prime. 4. But will he ne’er return, whose tongue Could tune the rural lay? Ah no! his bell of peace is rung, His lips are cold as clay. 5. They bore him out at twilight hour, The youth who lov’d so well, Ah me! how many a true-love shower Of kind remembrance fell. 6. Each maid was woe, but Lucy chief, Her heart o’er all was tried, Within his grave she dropp’d in grief, And o’er her loved one died. ⸺aut equos Alere, aut canes ad venandum aut ad philosophos. CHAPTER XXX.