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AARON HILL, Efq;

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MONG the literary world, there is not perhaps a fubject more worthy the public attention than the Life of Aaron Hill, Efq; Whilft he had being on earth, his virtues procured him many admirers, and his beneficence not a few; for as long as he poffeffed property, fo long the indigent fhared it with him, and more particularly that part of mankind who had any pretence to poetical

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With his humanity, had he poffeffed an equal fhare of that common virtue called oeconomy, or rather had he not been too profufely generous, heaping his bounty on every perfon in whom diftreffed merit appeared, he might have left behind him wealth, the produce or fruit of his genius, more than ever was acquired by his cotemporary Pope; whom he much excelled in feveral branches of literary knowledge: but, of these fuperior abilities he little availed himself, for tho' his publications were many, the profits arifing from them were (except his last play of Merope) all given to relieve perfons he thought in unhappy circumftances. Sometimes he aimed even to raise from dejection affociated bodies of Theatric geniuffes, and has given plays and scenes alternately to fupport the sinking state of actors. Oft when he has perceived a Poet feebly attempting to reach Parnaffus's height; he has nervously supported and enabled him to gain the point in view. Mr. Hill's generofity was not confined to his relations, his friends, nor even to his own nation; a Northern Minifter excluded from the Kirk, VOL. I.

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profited by Mr. Hill's affiftance; tho' he had no other claim to it except his great want of it. Mr. Hill pitied his cafe, and gave him written materials, which procured him both money and fame, but at the fame time gave birth to a bafe quality, his benefactor did not expect to fee fpting up, instead of gratitude.. The once Minifter, on receiving careffes, as a Poet became vain; and probably thought that what Mr. Hill had given him he had a right to frame anew, agreeable to his own humble taste. This he did, and of a good Tragedy of two acts he made a fort of Farce of five; which no one afterwards difputed being his own. Much the fame affiftance Mr. Hill gave to others, who gratefully acknowledged the favours received. Mr. Hill poffeffed more native modesty than ambition, and tho' wrote from a different motive, thefe lines of Virgil may with fome propriety be applyed to him;

Hos ego verficulos feci, tulit alter honores,

Sic vos non vobis nidificatis aves.

In his earlier days, Mr. Richard Savage, fon of the Earl Rivers, was introduced to him by fome of his acquaintance, as a young gentleman whofe uncommon circumftances, and intrinfic merit, were deferving of pity. Mr. Hill for many years kindly compaffionated his unhappy birth, that feemingly intitled him to hope paternal care alike) from two great Peers, yet made him deftitute of either friend or father, thro' the unnatural cruelty of her, who did not blush to prove herfelf the worst of Mothers, to get him difinherited by both. Mr. Hill in a manner adopted, him out of mere humanity, and served him for a confiderable time with his purfe, nor did he forfake Mr. Savage when made more unhappy, by a fudden fray, where he had the misfortune to kill a gentleman, for which he took his trial, and was condemned to die, and had even bespoke the cloaths in which he was to fuffer, not having left fo much as hope to obtain a pardon.

There his friend proved one indeed; by fetting forth his miferable cafe, in the best light it would bear; fuch as ('twas faid) drew tears from Royal Eyes; and induced

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her Majesty to intercede in his behalf, and procure his pardon.

The poem called the Baftard, Mr. Hill wrote to ferve Mr. Savage, and at the fame time drew up a letter of dedication, both which were fent to Sir Robert Walpole.

And in order the more to promote Mr. Savage's intereft, Mr. Hill in a pathetic manner, in the Plain Dealer, published the particulars of his unhappy ftory with a copy of verfes to his mother; which being put into the hands of her Majefty, (the late Queen Caroline) fo influenced her gentle nature, that the Countess found herself obliged to fend for her fon, and fhew fome little of the parent towards him.

But as her kindness neither lafted long, nor was ef fectual; fome time after, Mr. Hill affifted him in publifhing a miscellany by fubfcription; which he likewife in the Plain Dealer, N° 73. warmly recommended to the patronage of the public.

And fome years after, in hopes of raifing for him a more excellent, and powerful friend, he wrote a poem, (calling it the Volunteer Laureat) as follows:

TWICE twenty tedious moons have roll'd away,
Since hope, kind flatt'rer! led my thoughts aftray:
Told me you meant, an Orphan's tears to fcreen,
And o'er the Motherless extend the Queen.
"Twill be-The prophet guides the poet's ftrain,
Grief never touch'd a heart like yours in vain.
Tho' of Two Fathers I retain'd not one:
And having found a Mother, felt her none.
What tho' the guardians of a nation's right,
Forgot my infant wrongs, or weigh'd them light.
Nor parents pitilefs, nor peers unkind,
Nor titles loft, nor all woes riddles join'd,
Imbitter life's fad lot-thus lowly laid;
To find a Pharaoh's daughter in the shade.
You cannot blefs by halves when wrongs implore:
Your heart is woman, tho' your foul is more.
Kind like the power, who gave you to our prayers,
You wou'd not length:n lite; to fearpon cares.

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They who a barren leave to live beftow,
But fnatch from death, a facrifice to woe.
Unfriended Want, the firft beft plea, I knew,
Intitled me to hope from Heaven and You.
Nor dare I groan, beneath Affliction's rod,
My Queen, my Mother; and my Father, God!
Your felf adopted fon, no pangs endures,
No more the child of forrow, now, but yours.
Oh, hear him own the boldness of his prayer,
Nor damp his purpose, with a due despair.
The Mufes faw me vainly wit pursue,
A baftard fon alas! on that fide too,

Their fex confeffing, me, they wou'd not blame,
But, blushing that my Mother felt no fhame:
Cut off her power to pleafe, and judg'd it fit,
To give me as a portion, half her wit.
Embolden'd thus to dare in eagle's flight,
Fain wou'd my eye fuftain your ftream of light!
Fain wou'd I rife your Poet; nor conceal
The charms whofe filent influence millions feel!
In each revolving year, on this blefs'd day,
Permit, great Princefs, my renew'd effay;
Your Laureat, I unbid my thoughts will raife:
And charm the world with truths, too vaft for praise
Thus the weak prophet till infpir'd, mov'd flow,
Faint was his gesture, and his voice was low;
But when th' invading impulfe fir'd his breaft,
Strait more than human power his limbs poffeft;
Full of the breathing God, ftrong-aweful-great-
His looks were lightning, and his accents, fate!
Nor fear left flattery taints the Mufe's view,
No eafy tafk, lov'd Queen! to flatter you!
Nor ignorant I that vulgar charms alone,
Submit to shine with fplendor, not their own.
While you

you with virtues, are fo polifh'd o'er, That, 'twere to paint a pearl, to give you more. Nor will I dwell on glories all your own;

Far furer means to tempt your fimiles are known;

Your