Pardon me, friends, and pray accept—my bow.
[255] William Gifford was born at Ashburton, April, 1756, and, as may be inferred from the fact of his being interred at Westminster Abbey, attained a celebrity of no common order.
[256] This may appear singular, and unpardonable, but the Author (of this little work) is obliged to confess that it was only within a few days prior to the publication of these poems he, by accident, (having purchased a small volume in the Strand, London,) for the first time had the pleasure of perusing a portion of the works of this great man.
[257] His satirical poems,—the “Baviad,” and “Mæviad,” and his translation of “Juvenal.”
[258] Those professing poets of the age, whom Gifford lashed with his peculiar wit and humour.
[259] His munificence to the poor of his native town, in the form of an annual gift, will for ever revive the sacredness of his memory, thus:—Mr Gifford bequeathed property sufficient in value to realise the annual sum of £60 a-year; £50 of which is equally divided among twenty poor persons of both sexes, and £10 is distributed in bread to other poor persons on Christmas Eve.
THE END.