ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
Rev. Joseph Warton
J. M., "Translation of Greek Verses on Dr. Joseph Warton, in Vol. LXX" Gentleman's Magazine 71 (February 1801) 163.
Rev. Joseph Warton:
1743: Rev. Thomas Warton the Elder
1746: Thomas Gray
1753: Samuel Johnson
1754: Robert Dodsley
1755: William Shenstone
1756: Elizabeth Montagu
1756: Robert Dodsley
1756: Samuel Johnson
1759: William King of Oxford
1761: William Warburton
1767: George Lyttelton
1767: James Harris
1778: Rev. Percival Stockdale
1779: Rev. Vicesimus Knox
1779: Rev. William Tasker
1780: Horace Walpole
1782: Charlotte Anne Burney
1783: Frances Burney
1787: Hannah More
1787: Charlotte Warton
1787: Charlotte Warton
1790: William Cowper
1794: W. P.
1795: Walter Savage Landor
1795: Samuel Rogers
1798: Thomas James Mathias
1800: Rev. William Lipscomb
1800: Bp. Richard Mant
1800: William Boscawen
1800: Rev. Richard Polwhele
1800: Thomas Green
1801: Rev. William Lisle Bowles
1801: Alexander Thomson
1801: J. M.
1806: Michael Wodhull
1807: Robert Southey
1807: Lady Anne Hamilton
1807: Sir Samuel Egerton Brydges
1809: Dr. Nathan Drake
1818: Lord Byron
1820: Philip Warwick
1824: Bryan Waller Procter
1826: Richard Ryan
1843: Edward Quillinan
1860: George Gilfillan
1891: George Birkbeck Hill
1893: William Lyon Phelps
1779: William Shenstone
1801: Rev. Joseph Warton
1803: Thomas Chatterton
Alas! he's gone, by Death's dire stroke he's slain,
Dear to Apollo, and the Muses' train.
Who, Tit'rus, now poetic comments yields
On thee descanting in paternal fields?
Who now o'er Gallus' love in pity mourns,
But from whose pains Lycoris scornful turns?
No budding trees in beauteous order rear'd,
Nor lowing herds, nor bleating flocks are heard;
No well-till'd fields their wonted pleasure give,
Nor grateful murmurs of the busy hive.
Who now to Britain's Orpheus' mournful plaints
For his lost wife in Maro's numbers paints?
Echo his plaints, resounded far and near,
To the inhabitants of earth and air.
The Indian scorn'd his arrows, and his crown
Requiting thus parental favours shown.
Tearing her hair and breasts, wild Fancy stands;
Down drops her harp, beneath her trembling hands,
'Till, "thy son lives," the whisp'ring Zephyr tells,
In those bless'd mansions where thy brother dwells;
Sitting in meads, where various flow'rs combine
To hear the poets chant their songs divine;
Dryden's grand ode, and Gray's triumphant car,
And Spenser's sighs, how pleasingly severe;
With Milton's wond'rous voice, and Homer's fire,
And daring flights of Pindar's doric lyre.