’The whiteness of his cheek
  Was apter than his tongue to speak his tale.’

They all expressed the tender feelings of a manly heart, becoming a Thomson’s friend.  His pause, his recovery were masterly; and he delivered the whole with an emphasis and pathos, worthy the excellent lines he spoke; worthy the great poet and good man, whose merits they painted, and whose loss they deplored.

The epilogue too, which was spoken by Mrs. Woffington, with an exquisite humour, greatly pleased.  These circumstances, added to the consideration of the author’s being no more, procured this play a run of nine nights, which without these assistances ’tis likely it could not have had; for, without playing the critic, it is not a piece of equal merit to many other of his works.  It was his misfortune as a dramatist, that he never knew when to have done; he makes every character speak while there is any thing to be said; and during these long interviews, the action too stands still, and the story languishes.  His Tancred and Sigismunda may be excepted from this general censure:  But his characters are too little distinguished; they seldom vary from one another in their manner of speaking.  In short, Thomson was born a descriptive poet; he only wrote for the stage, from a motive too obvious to be mentioned, and too strong to be refilled.  He is indeed the eldest born of Spenser, and he has often confessed that if he had any thing excellent in poetry, he owed it to the inspiration he first received from reading the Fairy Queen, in the very early part of his life.

In August 1748 the world was deprived of this great ornament of poetry and genius, by a violent fever, which carried him off in the 48th year of his age.  Before his death he was provided for by Sir George Littleton, in the profitable place of comptroller of America, which he lived not long to enjoy.  Mr. Thomson was extremely beloved by his acquaintance.  He was of an open generous disposition; and was sometimes tempted to an excessive indulgence of the social pleasures:  A failing too frequently inseparable from men of genius.  His exterior appearance was not very engaging, but he grew more and more agreeable, as he entered into conversation:  He had a grateful heart, ready to acknowledge every favour he received, and he never forgot his old benefactors, notwithstanding a long absence, new acquaintance, and additional eminence; of which the following instance cannot be unacceptable to the reader.

Some time before Mr. Thomson’s fatal illness, a gentleman enquired for him at his house in Kew-Lane, near Richmond, where he then lived.  This gentleman had been his acquaintance when very young, and proved to be Dr. Gustard, the son of a revd. minister in the city of Edinburgh.  Mr. Gustard had been Mr. Thomson’s patron in the early part of his life, and contributed from his own purse (Mr. Thomson’s father not being in very affluent circumstances) to enable him to prosecute his studies.  The visitor