d, and cannot quote the epitaph, nor would we, though we could, since
even the dog-Latin is too plain and perspicuous for many readers. We
recommend those, however, who choose to turn it up; and they will find in
it (with the exception of the writing of "the Chase") the full history of
William Somerville, of whom we know little, but that he was born, that he
hunted, ate, drank, and died.

He was born in 1682; but in what month, or on what day, we are not
informed. His estate was in Warwickshire, its name Edston, and he had
inherited it from a long line of ancestors. His family prided itself upon
being the first family in the county. He himself boasts of having been
born on the banks of Avon, which has thus at least produced two poets, of
somewhat different calibre indeed--the one a deer-stealer, and the other
a fox-hunter--Shakspeare and Somerville. Somerville was educated at
Winchester School, and was afterwards elected fellow of New College. From
his studies--of his success in which we know nothing--he returned to his
native county, and there, says Johnson, "was distinguished as a poet, a
gentleman, and a skilful and useful justice of the peace;"--we may add,
as a jovial companion and a daring fox-hunter. His estate brought him
in about L1500 a-year, but his extravagance brought him into pecuniary
distresses, which weighed upon his mind, plunged him into intemperate
habits, and hurried him away in his 60th year. Shenstone, who knew him
well, thus mourns aver his departure in one of his letters:--"Our old
friend Somerville is dead; I did not imagine I could have been so sorry
as I find myself on this occasion. _Sublatum quoerimus_, I can now excuse
all his foibles; impute them to age and to distressed circumstances. The
last of these considerations wrings my very soul to think on; for a
man of high spirit, conscious of having (at least in one production)
generally pleased the world, to be plagued and threatened by wretches
that are low in every sense; to be forced to drink himself into pains of
the body in order to get rid of the pains of the mind, is a misery."

Somerville died July 19, 1742, and was buried at Wotton, near
Henley-on-Arden. His estate went to Lord Somerville in Scotland, but his
mother, who lived to a great age, had a jointure of L600. He describes
himself, in verses addressed to Allan Ramsay, as

"A squire, well-born and six feet high."

He seems, from the affection and sympathy discovered for him