Thy noontide shadows, and thy evening breeze!

His image thy forsaken bowers restore;

Thy walks and airy prospects charm no more;

No more the summer in thy glooms allay’d

Thy evening breezes, and thy noonday shade.

Tickell, on the death of Addison.

And again in his Kensington Garden:—

Where now the skies high Holland House invades

And short-lived Warwick sadden’d all the shades.

Johnson repeats with great indignation Mandeville’s observation upon Addison. It was that he appeared to him like a parson in a tye wig: a laughable and, I daresay, a true remark.