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Updated: May 16, 2025
Not to dally longer with the sympathies of our readers, we think it right to premonish them that we are composing an epicedium upon no less distinguished a personage than the Lottery, whose last breath, after many penultimate puffs, has been sobbed forth by sorrowing contractors, as if the world itself were about to be converted into a blank.
Nor were men wanting among ourselves who had so steeped their brains in London literature as to mistake Cockneyism for European culture, and contempt of their country for cosmopolitan breadth of view, and who, owing all they had an all they were to democracy, thought it had an air of high-breeding to join in the shallow epicedium that our bubble had burst.
During his residence at Cambridge, he composed Latin Poems on the Death of Henry Prince of Wales; and of Anne, Queen to James I. See "Epicedium Cantabrigiense in obitum immaturum semperque deflendum Henrici illustrissimi Principis Walliæ, Cantab. 1612." And "Lachrymæ Cantabrigienses in obitum serenissimæ Regiæ Annæ, Conjugis dilectissimæ Jacobi Magnæ Britanniæ, Franciæ, et Hiberniæ Regis.
Letters of Hieronymus Magnaninus to his master, Alfonso, Ferrara, April 11 to 22, archives of the Este. Cæsaris Borgiæ Ducis Epicedium per Herculem Strozzam ad Divam Lucretiam Borgiam Ferrariæ Ducem. In Strozzi Poetæ Pater et Filius, Paris, 1530. See Cittadella's genealogy of the house of Borgia. Letter of Giulio Alvarotti from France, February 14, 1550, in the archives of Modena.
Recorders. Enter Hymen and the Lovers. Tim. Death, avaunt! thou hast no power; This is Hymens happie hower. Away to the dark shades! hence! And, grim Dispaire, let Innocence Triumph, and bring eternall peace To all your soules and Joys increase. Smile, smile, sweet ayre, on us that come To sing Deaths Epicedium.
Nor were men wanting among ourselves who had so steeped their brains in London literature as to mistake Cockneyism for European culture, and contempt of their country for cosmopolitan breadth of view, and who, owing all they had and all they were to democracy, thought it had an air of high-breeding to join in the shallow epicedium that our bubble had burst.
Imagination pictures to him his funeral pomp the grave they are digging for him the lamentations that will accompany him to his last abode-the epicedium that surviving friendship may dictate; he persuades himself that these melancholy objects will affect him as painfully even after his decease, as they do in his present condition, in which he is in full possession of his senses.
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