To Goldsmith's fame could things external give Helps that might serve, supports whereon to live! Those who the love of Intimates bestow; Those from fidelity of Friends would flow; Those his enraptur'd Readers crowding, wou'd Present as tributes of their gratitude; As here they aim his Memory to save; Deathless triumphant o'er the sleeping grave; But needless 'twere on foreign aid to call; His own intrinsick worth surpasses all. Physician, Poet, and Historian, he Great in each name, transcendent in the three; Almost in every kind of writing try'd, Practis'd in none but what he beautify'd. Master of all his aims, you must submit To weep or laugh as he intended it. The human heart with gentle sway he bends, But leans its biass to the noblest ends. Sublime, his genius quick diversify'd: His style, grand, graceful, flowing like a tide. Hibernia's son, by Longford county claim'd; His birth place Pallas, sure by omen nam'd; His College studies, Dublin boasts to share: London laments that he expired there.
