Mason's house at Aston. In July, however, he was still at Cambridge, and wrote to Dr. Beattie, complaining of illness and pains in the head, &c. This letter sent him some criticisms on the first book of "The Minstrel, which have since been printed. This Tour took place in the autumn his companion was his friend Mr. Nicholls, of Blundeston in Suffolk, a gentleman of much accomplishment, and who was admitted during the latter part of Gray's life into very intimate friendship with him. He was, I believe, the Octavius of the "Pursuits of Literature." In May 1771 he wrote to Dr. Warton, just sketching the outline of his Tour to Wales, and some of the adjoining counties. This is the last letter that appears in Mason's collection. He there complains of an unusual cough, of spirits habitually low, and of the uneasiness which the thoughts of the duties which his Professorship gave him, which, after having held three years, he had now a determined resolution to resign.* He mentions also different plans of travel and amusement that he had projected. A few days after, he removed to London, where his health more and more declined. Dr. Gisborne, his physician, advised a purer air, and he went to Kensington: there in some degree he revived, and returned to Cambridge, intending to go from that place to his friend Dr. Warton's, at Old Park. Some little time before this, his friend Mr. Robinson had seen Gray in his lodgings in Jermynstreet he was then ill, apparently in a state of decay, and in low spirits. He expressed regret that he had done so little in literature, and lamented that at last, when he had become easy in circumstances, he had lost his health. On the 24th July, while at dinner in the College * Gray began an inaugural“ Lecture on History" in Latin, extending to about a couple of pages, which I possess. It is much corrected, and he probably had lost his facility, by long disuse, of composing in that language. Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre. |