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Here lies poor NED PURDON, from misery freed,
Who long was a bookseller's hack;
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.
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 ;
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.
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.