light make, with a dark weather-beaten complexion, and rather what is termed hard featured; being considerably marked with the small-pox: his hair was of a brownish hue. In point of address, his manner was blunt, awkward, and forbidding: but he spoke with great fluency; and his simple yet impressive diction was couched in words which reminded his hearers of the terseness of SWIFT. Though FALCONER possessed a warm and friendly disposition, he was fond of controversy, and inclined to satire. His observation was keen, and rapid; his criticisms on any inaccuracy of language, or expression, were frequently severe; yet this severity was always intended eventually to create mirth, and not by any means to shew his own superiority, or to give the smallest offence. In his natural temper he was cheerful, and frequently used to amuse his Messmates by composing Acrostics on their favourites; in which he particularly excelled. As a professional man, he was a thorough Seaman; and, like most of that profession, was kind, generous, and benevolent. He often assured Governor HUNTER, that his education had been confined merely to reading English, writing, and a little arithmetic; notwithstanding which he was never at a loss to understand either French, Spanish, Italian, or even German. In this edition I have employed my utmost diligence, and latterly amidst distraction, " in sickness, and in sorrow," that I might induce my Countrymen to honour the watery Grave of the shipwrecked FALI trust the tribute, thus paid to his memory, cannot fail of producing the desired effect, since through the kindness of Mr. * Bowles, I have been enabled to employ a kindred genius to chaunt, in mournful melody, CONER. THE DIRGE OF POOR | ARION. What pale and bleeding YOUTH (while the fell Blast * The Notes signed W. L. B. were hints given me by this gentleman; those signed N. P. by Mr. Pocock; and those signed E. D. C. by my brother; for the Italian passages, signed F. D. I am indebted to a learned foreigner. I also beg leave to return my thanks to Captain FRANCIS MASON of the RATTLER Sloop of War, and to HENRY STREATFIELD, Esq. of Trinity College, Cambridge. † Written on the Platform at Portsmouth, April 16, 1803. 3 O poor ARION! has thy sweetest Strain, That charm'd old Ocean's wildest solitude, At this dread hour his waves' dark might subdued? Let SEA-MAIDS thy reclining head sustain; And wipe the blood, and briny drops, that soil Thy looks, and give once more thy wreathed Shell To ring with melody :-Oh fruitless Toil! Hark! o'er thy head again the Tempests swell ; Hark! hark again the Storm's black demons yell More loud; the bellowing Deep reclaims his spoil! PEACE! and may weeping SEA-MAIDS sing thy knell. |