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SONG,

INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG IN THE COMEDY OS

" SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER."

AH me! when shall I marry me?
Lovers are plenty; but fail to relieve me.
He, fond youth, that could carry me,
Offers to love, but means to deceive me.

But I will rally, and combat the ruiner :
Not a look, not a smile, shall my passion discover.
She that gives all to the false one pursuing her,
Makes but a penitent, and loses a lover,

STANZAS

ON THE

TAKING OF QUEBEC.

AMIDST the clamour of exulting joys,

Which triumph forces from the patriot heart,
Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice,

And quells the raptures which from pleasures start.

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O Wolfe! to thee a streaming food of woe,

Sighing we pay, and think e'en conquest dear ;
Quebec in vain shall teach our breasts to glow,

Whilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear,

Alive, the foe thy dreadful vigour fled,

And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes :
Yet they shall know thou conquerest, though dead;

Since from thy tomb a thousand heroes rise.

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EPITAPH

ON

DR. PARNEL L.

THIS tomb, inscrib'd to gentle Parnell's name,
May speak our gratitude, but not his fame.
What heart but feels his sweetly-moral lay,
That leads to truth through pleasure's flow'ry way!
Celestial themes confess'd his tuneful aid ;
And heaven, that lent him genius, was repaid.
Needless to him the tribute we bestow,
The transitory breath of fame below :
More lasting rapture from his works shall rise,
While converts thank their poet in the skies.

EPITAPHI

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.

* Mr. Purdon was educated at Trinity-College, Dublin ; but having wasted his patrimony, he inlisted 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,

1

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 needý 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 wondrous winning : And never follow'd wicked ways

Unless when she was sinning.

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