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EPITAPH

ON

EDWARD PURDON'.

Here lies poor NED PURDON, from misery freed,

Who long was a bookseller's hack;
He led such a damnable life in this world-

I don't think he'll wish to come back.

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

From those who spoke her praise.

The needy seldom pass'd her door,

And always found her kind; She freely lent to all the poor

Who left a pledge behind.

She strove the neighbourhood to please,

With manners wond'rous winning, · And never followd wicked ways

Unless when she was sinning,

At church, in silks and satins new,

With hoop of monstrous size; She never slumberd in her pew

But when she shut her eyes.

Her love was sought, I do aver,

By twenty beaux and more ;
The king himself has follow'd her-

When she has walk'd before.

But now her wealth and fin'ry fled,

Her hangers-on cut short-all; 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!

Or dim thy beauty with a tear? Had Myra follow'd my direction,

She long had wanted cause of fear.

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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,

Emits a brighter ray.

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