Mr. Edmund Burke, and Mr. Garrick ; but from some unaccountable circumstances, this design was dropped, and his remains were privately deposited in the Temple burial-ground, on Saturday the 9th of April; when Mr. Hugh Kelley, Messrs. John and Robert Day, Mr. Palmer, Mr. Etherington, and. Mr. Hawes-gentlemen who had been his friends in life-attended his corpse as mourners, and paid the last tribute to his memory.

A subscription, however, has since been raised by his friends, to defray the expence of a marble monument, which is now executed by Mr. Nollikens, an eminent statuary in London, and placed in Westminster-abbey, between Gay's monument and the Duke of Argyle's, in Poet's Corner. It consists of a large medallion, exhibiting a very good likeness of the Doctor, embellished with literary ornaments, underneath which is a tablet of white marble, with the following Latin inscription, written by his excellent friend, Dr. Samuel Johnson:

OLIVARI GOLDSMITH,

POETÆ. PHYSICI. HISTORICI.
QUI NULLUM FERE SCRIBENDI GENUS

NON TETIGIT,
NULLUM QUOD TETIGIT NON ORNAVIT,
SIVE RISUS ESSENT MOVENDI,

SIVE LACRYMÆ.
ATTECTUUM POT ENS AT LENIS DOMINATOR,
INGENIO SUBLIMIS-VIVIDUS,VERSATILIS,
ORATIONE GRANDIS, NITIDUS VENUSTUS.
HOC MONUMENTUM MEMORIAM COLUIT,

SODALIUM AMOR,

AMICORUM FIDES,

LECTORUM VENERAT10.
NATUS HIBERNIA FORNIÆ LONFORDIENSIS,

IN LOCO CUI NOMEN PALLAS,

NOV, XXIX. MDCCXXXI.
EBLANÆ LITERIS INSTITUTUS,

OBIIT LONDINI,
APRIL IV, MDCCLXXIV,

Translation.
THIS MONUMENT IS RAISED

TO THE MEMORY OF

OLIVER GOLDSMITH,
POET, NATURAL PHILOSOPHER, AND

HISTORIAN,
WHO LEFT NO SPECIES OF WRITING UNTOUCHED,
OR UNADORNED BY HIS PEN,

WHETHER
TO MOVE LAUGHTER, OR DRAW TEARS:
HE WAS A POWERFUL MASTER

OVER THE AFFECTIONS,
THOUGH, AT THE SAME TIME, A GENTLE TYRANT ;

OF A GENIUS
AT ONCE SUBLIME, LIVELY, AND
EQUAL TO EVERY SUBJECT:

IN EXPRESSION
AT ONCE NOBLE, PURE, AND DELICATE.

HIS MEMORY
WILL LAST AS LONG AS SOCIETY RETAINS AFFECTION,

FRIENDSHIP IS NOT VOID OF HONOUR,
AND READING WANTS NOT HER ADMIRERS.

HE WAS BORN
IN THE KINGDOM OF IRELAND, AT FERNES,

IN THE PROVINCE OF LEINSTER,
WHERE PALLAS HAD SET HER NAME,

NOV. XXIX. MDCCXXXI.
HE WAS EDUCATED AT DUBLIN,

AND DIED IN LONDON,
APRIL IV. MDCCLXXIV.

As to Doctor Goldsmith's character, it is strongly illuftrated by Mr. Pope's line,

“ In wit a man, fimplicity a child.” The learned leisure he loved to enjoy, was too often interrupted by distresses which arose from the openness of his temper, and which sometimes threw him into loud fits of passion; but this impetuosity was corrected upon a moment's reflection; and his servants have been known upon thefe occasions purposely to throw them. selves in his way, that they might profit by it immediately after, for he who had the good fortune to be reproved, was certain of being rewarded for it. His disappointments at other times, made him peevish and sullen, and he has often left a party of convivial friends abruptly in the evening, in order to go home and brood over his misfortunes.

The universal esteem in which his poems are held, and the repeated pleasure they give in the perusal, are striking proofs of their merit. He was a studious and correct observer of nature, happy in the selection of his images, in the choice of his subjects, and in the harmony of his versification; and, though his embarrassed situation prevented him from putting the last hand to some of his productions, his Hermit, his Traveller, and his Deserted Village, bid fair to claim a place among the most finished pieces in the English language.

EPITAPH
ON DR. GOLDSMITH,

BY W. WOTY.
Adieu, sweet bard! to each fine feeling true,
Thy virtues many, and thy foibles few :
Those form’d to charm even vicious minds—and these,
With harmless mirth, the social soul to please.
Another's woe, thy heart could always melt-
None gave more free, for none more deeply felt.
Sweet bard, adieu !-thy own harmonious lays
Have sculptur'd out thy monument of praise :
Yes-these survive to time's remotest day,
While drops the bust, and boastful tombs decay.
Reader, if number'd in the Muse's train,
Go, tune the lyre, and imitate his strain-
But, if no poet thou, reverse the plan,
Depart in peace, and imitate the man.

THE

TRAVELLER;

OR,

A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY.

A POEM.

BIRST PRINTED IN MDCCLXV.

" Here, for a while, my proper cares resign'd, " Here let me sit in sorrow for mankind“ Like yon neglected shrub, at random cast, * That shades the steep, and sighs at every blast.

TRAVELLER, P.24.