POSTSCRIPT. AFTER the fourth edition of this poem was printed, the publisher received the following epitaph on Mr. Whitefoord y, from a friend of the late Dr. Goldsmith. HERE Whitefoord reclines, and deny it who can, Though he merrily liv'd, he is now a grave z man: Rare compound of oddity, frolic and fun! Who relish'd a joke, and rejoic'd in a pun; Whose temper was generous, open, sincere; A stranger to flatt'ry, a stranger to fear; Who scatter'd around wit and humour at will; Whose daily bon mots half a column might fill: A Scotchman, from pride and from prejudice free; A scholar, yet surely no pedant was he. y Mr. Caleb Whitefoord, author of many humorous essays. z Mr. W. was so notorious a punster, that Dr. Goldsmith used to say it was impossible to keep him company, without being infected with the itch of punning. What pity, alas! that so lib'ral a mind Should so long be to newspaper essays confin'd! Who perhaps to the summit of science could soar, Yet content " if the table he set in a roar;" Whose talents to fill any station were fit, Yet happy if Woodfall a confess'd him a wit. Ye newspaper witlings! ye pert scribbling folks! Who copied his squibs, and re-echo'd his jokes; Ye tame imitators, ye servile herd, come, Still follow your master, and visit his tomb : To deck it, bring with you festoons of the vine, And copious libations bestow on his shrine; Then strew all around it (you can do no less) Cross-readings, ship-news, and mistakes of the press b. Merry Whitefoord, farewell! for thy sake I admit That a Scot may have humour, I had almost said wit: This debt to thy mem'ry I cannot refuse, "Thou best humour'd man with the worst humour'd muse. a Mr. H. S. Woodfall, printer of the Public Advertiser. b Mr. Whitefoord has frequently indulged the town with hu morous pieces under those titles in the Public Advertiser. |