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THE CLOWN'S REPLY.
John Trot was desired by two witty peers,
DESCRIPTION OF AN AUTHOR'S
WHERE the Red Lion, staring o'er the way,
Description :' see · Citizen of the World,' Letter xxix.
The morn was cold, he views with keen desire
EPITAPH ON DR PARNELL.
This tomb, inscribed to gentle Parnell's name,
EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON.1
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 • Edward Purdon : ' educated at Trinity College, Dublin; but having wasted his patrimony, he enlisted as a foot-soldier. Growing tired of that employment, he became a scribbler in the newspapers. He translated Voltaire's · Henriade.'
FROM THE ORATORIO OF “ THE CAPTIVITY."
1 The wretch, condemn'd with life to part,
Still, still on hope relies ;
Bids expectation rise.
2 Hope, like the glimmering taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way ;
Emits a brighter ray.
AN ELEGY ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX,
MRS MARY BLAIZE.1
1 Good people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madam Blaize,
From those who spoke her praise.
2 The needy seldom pass'd her door,
And always found her kind :
Who left a pledge behind.
1. Mrs Mary Blaize :' a well-known character of the time, whose profession will appear from the verses—which are imitated from · Menagiana.'
3 She strove the neighbourhood to please,
With manners wondrous winning;
Unless when she was sinning.
4 At church, in silks and satins new,
With hoop of monstrous size ;
But when she shut her eyes.
5 Her love was sought, I do aver,
By twenty beaux and more ;
When she has walk'd before.
6 But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short all :
Her last disorder mortal.
7 Let us lament, in sorrow sore,
For Kent Street well may say,
She had not died to-day.
1 WEEPING, murmuring, complaining,
Lost to every gay delight; Myra, too sincere for feigning,
Fears th' approaching bridal night.
2 Yet why impair thy bright perfection,
Or dim thy beauty with a tear ?
She long had wanted cause of fear.
1 O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver,
Still importunate and vain,
And turning all the past to pain !
Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe!
In thee must ever find a foe.
WRITTEN AND SPOKEN BY THE POET LABERIUS, A ROMAN KNIGHT, WHOM CÆSAR FORCED UPON THE STAGE.
(PRESERVED BY MACROBIUS).
What! no way left to shun th' inglorious stage,