EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON1. HERE lies poor NED PURDON, from misery freed, He led such a damnable life in this world- 1 This gentleman was educated at Trinity-college, Dublin; but having wasted his patrimony, he enlisted as a foot soldier. Growing tired of that employment, he obtained his discharge, and became a scribbler in the newspapers. He translated Voltaire's HENRIADE. AN ELEGY ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS. MARY BLAIZE. GOOD people all, with one accord, Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word- The needy seldom pass'd her door, She strove the neighbourhood to please, With manners wond'rous winning, And never follow'd wicked ways— Unless when she was sinning. At church, in silks and satins new, With hoop of monstrous size ; She never slumber'd in her pew— Her love was sought, I do aver, But now her wealth and fin'ry fled, The doctors found, when she was dead,— Her last disorder mortal. Let us lament, in sorrow sore, For Kent-street well may say, That, had she liv'd a twelvemonth more,— She had not dy'd to-day. SONNET. WEEPING, murmuring, complaining, Lost to ev'ry gay delight; Myra, too sincere for feigning, Fears th' approaching bridal night. Yet why impair thy bright perfection! She long had wanted cause of fear. FROM THI ORATORIO OF THE CAPTIVITY. SONG. THE wretch condemn'd with life to part, Still, still on hope relies ; And ev'ry pang that rends the heart, Bids expectation rise. Hope, like the glimm'ring taper's light, Adorns and cheers the way, And still, as darker grows the night, K |