Charles Gildon

Anonymous, "To the Memory of Mr. Charles Gildon" Universal Journal (12 February 1724) 2-3.

Nor shalt thou, CHARLES, to the thick Shades descend,
Without the kind Oblations of a Friend.
I lov'd thee living, and I mourn thee dead,
Whose Fate 'twas to be better Taught than Fed.
Whate'er the Greek and Latin had in Store,
Of Art and Eloquence, thou had'st, and more.
A Critick great, and yet an Author good,
Tho' often read, not always understood.
In Verse and Prose, he labour'd to excell,
A Few that writ so much, cou'd write so well.
Thy PLAYS were pen'd with so much Strength and Art,
You'd swear he not only writ, but play'd the Part.
His PROSE so nervous was, and so succinct,
TEMPLE might own the Lines that he did print.
Thro' all his Works, there generally appear'd
A Majesty that claim'd to be rever'd.
From MASS, to COMMON PRAYER, he early flew,
The PAPISTS Terror, and the Deists too.
Who, whilst he lash'd the Vices amongst Men,
RELIGION never suffer'd from his Pen.
Let me but sing a REQUIEM o'er thy Herse,
In humble Lays, and Elegiack Verse.
Farewell, thou POET great, and Writer chaste,
Let After-Ages emulate the Past.
To sum up all, we've lost an honest Fellow,
That treated more in Metal Red than Yellow.