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Around from all the neighbouring streets

The wondering neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits,

To bite so good a man.
The wound it seem'd both fore and fad

To every christian eye ;
And while they fwore the dog was mad,

They swore the man would die.
But soon a wonder came to light,

That shew'd the rogues they ly'd ;
The man recover'd of the bite,

The dog it was that dy'd,

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 flowery 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.

HERE lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery freed,

Who long was à bookseller's hack : He led such a damnable life in this world, I don't think he'll wish to come back.

* This gentleman was educated at Trinity College, Dublin ; but having waited his patrimony, he enlisted as a foot foldier. Growing tired of that em ployment, he obtained his discharge, and became a fcribbler in the Newspapers. He translated Voltaire's Henríade.


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