George Lyttelton

C. R. M. S., "To the Memory of Lord Lyttelton" Universal Magazine 53 (October 1773) 203.

If aught of genius yet remains,
Now Lyttelton's no more,
Let it in all its melting strains
Ill-fated Albion's loss deplore.

Scarce had she mark'd with sad regret
Her favourite Stanhope's close of day,
When her last luminary set,
Rekindling sorrow with his parting ray.

In earliest youth, to Phoebus dear,
This warbler join'd the tuneful throng,
And in sweet numbers charm'd the ear
With all the elegance of song.

The prelude, this, of rising powers,
For soon he wings a nobler flight,
On firmer pinions borne, he towers,
And gains with ease Parnassus' height.

Thus the young Mantuan bard began,
With sweetly flowing rural lays,
E're he to arms and to the man
Essay'd his powerful voice to raise.

Tho' thus exalted by the Muse
High on her list of fame,
With eager step he still pursues
All other science worth the name.

On Lucian's ground, with all this art,
Without his faults he dares to tread,
And to the living thus impart
The converse of the mighty dead.

The man of Tarsus, by this pen
Exhibited to view,
Settles the waverer again,
Convinces and converts anew.