In his _Tales_ he follows Prior in grossness, while inferior to him in art. Like the greater number of the Queen Anne poets, Gay flatters with a free hand. In an epistle addressed to Lintot, the bookseller, he declares that Anacreon lives once more in Sheffield, and Waller in Granville, that Buckingham's verse will last to distant time; while Ovid sings again in Addison, and 'Homer's _Iliad_ shines in his _Campaign_.'
One of the liveliest and most graceful of Gay's poems is addressed to Pope 'On his having finished his translation of Homer's _Iliad_.' It is called _A Welcome from Greece_, and describes the friends who assembled to greet the poet on his return to England.
Three stanzas from the Epistle shall be quoted:
'Oh, what a concourse swarms on yonder quay! The sky re-echoes with new shouts of joy; By all this show, I ween 'tis Lord Mayor's day; I hear the voice of trumpet and hautboy-- No, now I see them near.--Oh, these are they Who come in crowds to welcome thee from Troy. Hail to the bard, whom long as lost we mourned From siege, from battle, and from storm returned!
'What lady's that to whom he gently bends? Who knows not her? Ah! those are Wortley's eyes: How art thou honoured, numbered with her friends! For she distinguishes the good and wise. The sweet-tongued Murray near her side attends; Now to my heart the glance of Howard flies; Now Hervey, fair of face, I mark full well, With thee Youth's youngest daughter, sweet Lepell.
'I see two lovely sisters hand in hand, The fair-haired Martha and Teresa brown; Madge Bellenden, the tallest of the land; And smiling Mary, soft and fair as down. Yonder I see the cheerful Duchess stand, For friendship, zeal, and blithesome humours known; Whence that loud shout in such a hearty strain? Why, all the Hamiltons are in her train!'
Gay's love of good living was known to all his friends. 'As the French philosopher,' Congreve wrote, 'used to prove his existence by _cogito ergo sum_, the greatest proof of Gay's existence is _edit ergo est_.' For a long time his health compelled him to give up wine, and he tells Swift that he had also left off verse-making, 'for I really think that man must be a bold writer who trusts to wit without it.' He was dispirited, he told Swift not long before his death, for want of a pursuit, and found 'indolence and idleness the most tiresome things in the world.'