London, Sept. 26. 1773 [1772]
I lament with you most sincerely the
unfortunate End of poor Mungo: Few Squirrels were better
accomplish’d; for he had had a good Education, had travell’d far,
and seen much of the World. As he had the Honour of being for his
Virtues your Favourite, he should not go like common Skuggs without
an Elegy or an Epitaph. Let us give him one in the monumental Stile
and Measure, which being neither Prose nor Verse, is perhaps the
properest for Grief; since to use common Language would look as if
we were not affected, and to make Rhimes would seem Trifling in
Sorrow.
Alas! poor Mungo!
Happy wert thou, hadst thou known
Thy own Felicity!
Remote from the fierce Bald-Eagle,
Tyrant of thy native Woods,
Thou hadst nought to fear from his piercing
Talons;
Nor from the murdering Gun
Of the thoughtless Sportsman.
Safe in thy wired Castle,
Grimalkin never could annoy thee.
Daily wert thou fed with the choicest Viands
By the fair Hand
Of an indulgent Mistress.
But, discontented, thou wouldst have more
Freedom.
Too soon, alas! didst thou obtain it,
And, wandering,
Fell by the merciless Fangs,
Of wanton, cruel Ranger.
Learn hence, ye who blindly wish more
Liberty,
Whether Subjects, Sons, Squirrels or
Daughters,
That apparent Restraint may be real
protection,
Yielding Peace, Plenty, and Security.
You see how much more decent and proper this
broken Stile, interrupted as it were with Sighs, is for the
Occasion, than if one were to say, by way of Epitaph,
And yet perhaps there are People in the World of so little
Feeling as to think, that would be a good-enough Epitaph for
our poor Mungo!
If you wish it, I shall procure another to
succeed him. But perhaps you will now chuse some other Amusement.
Remember me respectfully to all the [torn] good Family; and
believe me ever, Your affectionate Friend