In April 1680, he was designed Governor of Tangiers, an appointment with which he was highly pleased; for his courage, being of a romantic and wild nature, delighted in the prospect of being opposed to such uncommon adversaries as the Moors. But, while he was busily preparing for his departure, he was seized with a malignant fever, during the delirium of which his mind was observed constantly to be occupied with his intended exploits against the besiegers of Tangiers.[341] He died on the 30th July, 1680, aged forty-six years. The lamentation for his loss was general and excessive; the noble reply of his venerable father, to those who offered him consolation, is well known: "Since he had borne the death of his king, he could support," he said, "that of his child; and would rather have his dead son, than any living son in Christendom." The Earl of Ossory was a patron of learning; and was mourned, both in verse and prose, by many other writers, as well as Dryden. Settle, who then seems to have been in the Tory interest, published a heroic poem on his death. Flatman wrote a pindaric ode on the same occasion; for which he received, from the Duke of Ormond, a diamond ring of 100 guineas value.--See WOOD'S _Athenæ Oxon_. There is another ode written by K. C., perhaps Katherine Cockburn; finally, one bard, resolving to amuse the nation's mourning by his own, dedicates to Ossory's memory some exquisite stanzas, beginning thus: "Upon the Earl of Ossory, who died of a fever, 30th July, 1680." The best sized pillar of the fairest pile, That has of late been built on Ireland's isle, Is fallen; some were too short, others too long, Some are too old, and others much too young. * * * * * Who knew him well, could not believe that ever He meant to die thus tamely of a fever. After lamenting, in similar strains, that the subject of his muse had not ---- ----fallen down a scaling ladder; First by grenadoes rent, or, what is sadder, Some royal ship his coffin should have been; he complains, "weeps, and frets," that ---- ----the king, the nation, Ireland, his house, and the whole confederation Of worthy men, his children, and his wife, Were all trepanned and cozen'd of his life; For he (who fire and hail was proof) with ice Was burned, and with a peach shot in a trice. It is curious, and not quite useless, to see how admirably such a poet can succeed in turning into farce the most lofty subject. Note XXXIV. _Zadoc the priest, whom, shunning power and place, His lowly mind advanced to David's grace._--P. 243.