« PredošláPokračovať »
refer to those exertions, equally honourable to himself and to his friends, by which the severity of his sentence and imprisonment was so greatly mitigated. The regrets which they now feel, and long will feel, for his loss, will be a lasting tribute to his worth, and the veneration with which they regard his character, they will hand down to their posterity.”
Dr. Aikin, his long known and long valued friend, who had so lately congratulated his return to society, now published a paper, of which we have already availed ourselves, entitled “ A Tribute to the Memory of Mr. Wakefield,"c It contains “ a slight sketch of the leading events of his life,” interspersed, as might naturally be expected from the writer, with many interesting observations.
A clergyman of the church of England also, whose name we are not at liberty to mention, drew up, and very obligingly communicated, some remarks on his character, derived from the association and correspondence of many years.
These remarks will be found in the Appendix. Notwithstanding their different
See Monthly Mag. Vol. XI. 422 and 513.
s Ibid. Vol. XII. 225.
course of life and opposite views upon some points, the ingenious writer will appear to have retained a just and lively recollection of the virtues and accomplishments of his friend.
Two or three short copies of verses were inscribed to his memory, besides a Latino elegy by Dr. Geddes already mentioned. This event also called forth the elegant talents of another member of a family to whose writings the pub. lic taste and information have been so largely indebted.
With the verses to which we have alluded, written by Miss Aikin, almost immediately on receiving the account of our friend's death, we conclude this continuation of his Memoirs.
To the Memory of the Rev. GILBERT WAKEFIELD.
Friend of departed worth! whose pilgrim feet
d See Month. Mag. XII. 222, 328, 518. e “ Ad umbram Gilberti Wakefield Elegia,” Ibid. p. 326.
Tool of corruption-spaniel slave of power! Should thy rash steps in some unguarded hour Profane the shrine, deep on thy shrinking heart Engrave this awful moral, and depart! That not the shafts of slander, envy, hate, The dungeon's gloom, nor the cold hand of fate, Can rob the good man of that peerless prize, Which not pale Mammon's countless treasure buys The conscience clear whence secret pleasures flow, And friendship kindled 'mid the gloom of woe, Assiduous love that stays the parting breath, And honest fame, triumphant over death.
For you, who o'er the sacred marble bend, To weep the husband, father, brother, friend, And, mutely eloquent, in anguish raise Of keen regrets his monument of praiseMay Faith, may Friendship, dry your streaming eyes, And Virtue mingle comfort with your sighs; Till Resignation softly stealing on, With pensive smile bid lingering Grief be gone, And tardy Time veil o'er with gradual shade All but the tender tints you would not wish to fade!