They manifested, however, their admiration and esteem by voluntary contributions, which Jackson told me, one week with another, amounted to eighteen pence.

This moderate stipend, together with some small presents that he received for making up differences and deciding causes amongst the prisoners, just enabled him to breathe and walk about in the grotesque figure I have described.
I understood also, that he was an excellent poet, and had composed a tragedy, which was allowed by everybody who had seen it to be a performance of great merit: that his learning was infinite, his morals unexceptionable, and his modesty invincible.

Such a character could not fail of attracting my regard; I longed impatiently to be acquainted with him, and desired Jackson would engage him to spend the evening in my apartment.

My request was granted; he favoured us with his company, and, in the course of our conversation perceiving that I had a strong passion for the Belles Lettres, acquitted himself so well on that subject, that I expressed a fervent desire of seeing his productions.

In this point too he gratified my inclination; he promised to bring his tragedy to my room next day, and in the meantime, entertained me with some detached pieces, which gave me a very advantageous idea of his poetical talent.
Among other things I was particularly pleased with some elegies, in imitation of Tibullus; one of which I beg leave to submit to the reader as a specimen of his complexion and capacity:-- Where now are all my flattering dreams of joy?
Monimia, give my soul her wonted rest;-- Since first thy beauty fixed my roving eye, heart-gnawing cares corrode my pensive breast! Let happy lovers fly where pleasures call, With festive songs beguile the fleeting hour, Lead beauty through the mazes of the ball, Or press her wanton in love's roseate bower: For me, no more I'll range the empurpled mead, Where shepherd's pipe and virgins dance around, Nor wander through the woodbine's fragrant shade, To hear the music of the grove resound.
I'll seek some lonely church, or dreary hall, Where fancy paints the glimmering taper blue, Where damps hang mouldering on the ivy'd wall, And sheeted ghosts drink up the midnight dew, There, leagued with hopeless anguish and despair, A while in silence o'er my fate repair: Then, with a long farewell to love and care, To kindred dust my weary limbs consign.
Wilt thou, Monimia, shed a gracious tear On the cold grave where all my sorrows rest?
Strew vernal flowers, applaud my love sincere, And bid the turf lie easy on my breast?
I was wonderfully affected with this pathetic complaint, which seemed so well calculated for my own disappointment in love, that I could not help attaching the idea of Narcissa to the name of Monimia, and of forming such melancholy presages of my passion, that I could not recover my tranquillity: and was fain to have recourse to the bottle, which prepared me for a profound sleep that I could not otherwise have enjoyed.