serted some
small poems in Dodsley's Collection, he published (in 1767) Edgehill,
for which he obtained a large subscription; and in the following year,
the fable of Labour and Genius. In 1771, his kind patron, Lord
Willoughby de Broke, added to his other preferment the rectory of
Kimcote, worth nearly 300_l._ in consequence of which he resigned
Harbury.

His first wife died in 1751, leaving him seven children. He had known
her from childhood. The attention paid her by Shenstone shews her to
have been an amiable woman. In eight years after, he married Margaret,
daughter of James Underwood, Esq. of Rugeley, in Staffordshire, who
survived him. During the latter part of his life, his infirmities
confined him to the house. He died, after a short illness, on the 8th of
May, 1781, and was buried in the church of Snitterfield. In his person
he was above the middle stature. His manner was reserved before
strangers, but easy even to sprightliness in the society of his friends.
He is said to have discharged blamelessly all the duties of his
profession and of domestic life. As a poet, he is not entitled to very
high commendation. The distinguishing feature of his poetry is the ease
of its diction. Johnson has observed, that if blank verse be not tumid
and gorgeous, it is crippled prose. To disprove this, it would be
sufficient to quote the greater part of that story from the Tatler [1]
of the Young Man restored to Sight, which Jago has introduced into his
Edge-hill. Nothing can be described more naturally, than his feelings
and behaviour on his first recovery.

The friendly wound was given; th'obstructing film
Drawn artfully aside; and on his sight
Burst the full tide of day. Surprised he stood,
Not knowing where he was, nor what he saw.
The skilful artist first, as first in place,
He view'd, then seized his hand, then felt his own,
Then mark'd their near resemblance, much perplex'd,
And still the more perplex'd the more he saw.
Now silence first th' impatient mother broke,
And, as her eager looks on him she bent,
"My son (she cried), my son!" On her he gazed
With fresh surprise. "And what!" he cried, "art thou
My mother? for thy voice bespeaks thee such,
Though to my sight unknown."--"Thy mother I
(She quick replied); thy sister, brother, these."--
"O! 'tis too much (he said); too soon to part,
Ere well we meet! But this new flood of day
O'erpowers me, and I feel a death-like damp
C