g sands; nor bid 'em stay--
Yet, while from life my setting prospects fly,
Fain wou'd my mind's weak offspring shun to die.
Fain wou'd their hope some light through time explore;
The name's kind pasport--When the man's no more.

From about the time he was solliciting the bringing on this play, an
illness seized him; from the tormenting pains of which he had scarce an
hour's intermission; and after making trial of all he thought could be
of service to him in medicine; he was desirous to try his native air of
London (as that of Plaistow was too moist a one) but he was then past
all recovery, and wasted almost to a skeleton, from some internal cause,
that had produced a general decay (and was believed to have been an
inflamation in the kidneys; which his intense attachment to his studies
might probably lay the foundation of.--When in town, he had the comfort
of being honoured with the visits of the most worthy and esteemed among
his friends; but he was not permitted many weeks to taste that blessing.
[Transcriber's note: closing brackets missing in original.]

The same humane and generous Mr. Mallet, who had before aided his
Merope, about this time was making interest for its being played again,
for the advantage of its author:--His royal highness the prince of
Wales; had the great goodness to command it; and Mr. Hill just lived to
express his grateful acknowledgments (to those about him) upon hearing
of it:--But on the day before it was to be represented he died, in the
very minute of the earthquake, February the eighth, 1749, which he
seemed sensible of, though then deprived of utterance. Had he lived two
days longer, he had been sixty-five years old.--He endur'd a
twelve-month's torment of the body with a calmness that confess'd a
superiority of soul! He was interred in the same grave with her the most
dear to him when living, in the great cloister of Westminster-Abbey;
near the lord Godolphin's tomb.

It may be truly said of Mr. Hill, he was a great and general writer; and
had he been possest of the estate he was intitled to, his liberality had
been no less extensive than his genius. But often do we see misfortune's
clouds obscure the brightest sunshine.

Besides his works which here have been enumerated, there are several
other; particularly two poems, intitled the Creation, and the
Judgment-Day; which were published many years ago.--Another in blank
verse he published in the time of his retreat into Essex