In this same year Percy was writing about his son Henry, then a tall youth of fifteen, who he hoped in a few years would be able to edit the Reliques for him, but in April, 1783, soon after he had settled at Dromore, a great sorrow fell upon him, and this only and much-loved son died at the early age of twenty. In 1780 a large portion of Northumberland House, Strand, was consumed by fire, when Percy's apartments were burnt. The chief part of his library, was, however, saved. Four very interesting letters of the bishop's, written to George Steevens in 1796 and 1797, are printed in the Athenæum for 1848 (pp. 437 and 604). The first relates to his edition of Goldsmith's works, which was published in 1801 in four volumes octavo. His object in undertaking the labour was to benefit two surviving relations of Goldsmith, and he complains to Steevens that the publishers had thwarted him in his purpose. The second letter is on the same subject, and the third and fourth relate to his work on blank verse before Milton, attached to Surrey's Poems. In 1798 the Irish Rebellion broke out, and Percy sent a large quantity of correspondence and valuable books to his daughter, Mrs. Isted, for safe preservation at Ecton House. In 1806 his long and happy union with Mrs. Percy was abruptly brought to a close, and to add to his afflictions he became totally blind. He bore his trials with resignation, and ere five more years had passed by, he himself was borne to the tomb. On the 30th of September, 1811, he died in the eighty-third year of his age, having outlived nearly all his contemporaries.[47]
That his attachment to "Nancy" was fervent as well as permanent, is shown by many circumstances. One of these is a little poem printed for the first time in the edition of the folio MS.[48]
"On leaving —— on a Tempestuous Night, March 22, 1788, by Dr. Percy.
"Deep howls the storm with chilling blast,
Fast falls the snow and rain,
Down rush the floods with headlong haste,
And deluge all the plain.
"Yet all in vain the tempest roars,
And whirls the drifted snow;
In vain the torrents scorn the shore,
To Delia I must go.
"In vain the shades of evening fall,
And horrid dangers threat,
What can the lover's heart appal,
Or check his eager feet?
"The darksome vale he fearless tries,
And winds its trackless wood;
High o'er the cliff's dread summit flies,
And rushes through the flood.
"Love bids atchieve the hardy task,
And act the wondrous part;
He wings the feet with eagle's speed,
And lends the lion-heart.
"Then led by thee, all-powerful boy,
I'll dare the hideous night;
Thy dart shall guard me from annoy,
Thy torch my footsteps light.
"The cheerful blaze—the social hour—
The friend—all plead in vain;
Love calls—I brave each adverse power
Of peril and of pain."